file brought to you by - http://www.mrdouble.com ÉÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ» º IBM Compatables Only The Exchange Must be eighteen or older º º Node One 1.2 Gigs Node Two º º (305) 928-0461 (305) 491-3598 º º USR HST 9600 Ft Lauderdale's Best USR HST 14400 º ÈÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍͼ ---------------------------------- GRETCH01 ----------------------------------- On Becoming Gretchen By Amelia Allbyte Chapter One If I hadn't accepted a 'cheap' ride my story would be quite different. I'd probably be settled down in some nine-to-five job. Maybe even have a wife and kids in a little vine-covered cottage. But I did and my path has changed. As a result, I'm not allowed to even consider going back to that sort of existence. And you know, I'm not sure I want to - now. Anyway, after you read my story, you be the judge. My name is, or used to be, James Carrion. At the time, I was kind of a vagrant. Itinerant worker sounds better, and I guess would be more descriptive and apt. I would work at a job maybe six months or so and then set out for a new place and a new job. At any rate, my story begins as I was between jobs, so to speak. In fact it had been quite a while since my last job and I was getting down to my last couple of bucks when I heard that there were jobs of some kind opening up in Wells City. Since there weren't any immediate job prospects in this town, I decided to try my luck there. When I paid off my room rent, I had barely enough for the bus ticket. I was going to pay for that lousy roach-infested room, but as I started to leave I was met by my landlord, all six feet and two hundred pounds of him. So naturally I was overjoyed to pay my past-due bill. I sure didn't want my credit rating damaged, nor my nose bloodied and my eyes blackened. I trudged to the bus station. It was a cold, miserable day in late fall. Not freezing, exactly, but one of those chill days when the dampness goes right into your bones. Arriving at the bus station cold, wet, and hungry, I found to my dismay that the next bus for Wells City didn't leave for another six hours. Nothing for me to do but wait, and starve. I purchased my ticket and went over to sit in the dingy crowded waiting room when this really good-looking dame came up to me. "I just saw you buy a ticket to Wells City. Are you just going to sit here and wait until the bus leaves?" she asked me. "Yes, ma'am. I got no place to go and no money left. About all I can afford to do is to just sit here until the bus leaves." "Well, I'm going to Wells City and I hate driving alone. I'll tell you what. If you will cash in your ticket, I'll take you there, half price. We'll leave right now so you won't have to sit around waiting." To me that sounded like a really good deal. I'd get to ride with a good-looking girl whose eyes promised real company rather than wait around and then have to ride in a crowded bus. Besides, I'd have enough money to get something to eat and maybe rent a room for a day or so when I got there. Without a moment's hesitation I agreed. It only took a few minutes to cash in my ticket and pile into her big fancy car and be on our way. You might have guessed by now that this whole thing was just a come-on. At the time I was tired and disgusted and my only thought was to get out of there, so I never even thought of a come-on. We got going, her driving at a pretty good rate of speed. I wasn't paying much attention to where we were going until I noticed that we had turned off the main road and were traveling down a back country road. I turned to the girl to ask where the hell we were going and looked down the barrel of a big, and I mean big, pistol. "Just sit quietly. We're almost there," she ordered. I soon found out where 'there' was. The road dead-ended. She ordered me to give her the rest of my money, which I reluctantly did. I couldn't even hold back a few bucks since she knew exactly how much money I had. She then ordered me to get out of the car, which I did with a bit of alacrity. The farther I got away from that gun, the better I felt. That gal was handling it like she was born with it in her hand and she did this every day. Maybe she did. She didn't waste a minute. She turned around and drove off with my money, my pack, and everything else I had except for the clothes on my back. There was nothing else for me to do except to trudge back toward the main highway. I guessed I was a good ten miles up this deserted little side road. To top it off, it had begun to drizzle and it was getting dark. I guess I walked a couple of hours in that drizzly rain, when I finally came to a large house, kind of set back from the road. It was the first and only house I saw the whole time I was walking. It sat out there by itself. There was nothing else anywhere near, not even a barn. I approached it, hailed it, pounded on the door, and even circled it. I tried looking in the barred and shaded windows but could see no sign of life. Finally convinced that no one was about, and being cold, wet, and hungry, I tried the door. Lo and behold! The windows were barred and the door looked as solid as a rock, but it was unlocked. The interior was as elaborate as the exterior was imposing. I wandered through the living room and den, sloshing water on the deep napped rug with every step. I made my way through the house, meeting no one, and finally found the kitchen. Looking about, I found a well-stocked refrigerator. I was hungry, but I was also wet by now, quite chilled. I decided to try and find some dry clothes, or at least a blanket that I could cover up in while the rags I was wearing dried. I then started wandering through the darkened house. I finally found a bedroom, but the only clothes I found were quite feminine. I gave up and thought I'd try another room, maybe I'd have some better luck and find some male clothes, when suddenly the lights came on! I turned, and the first thing that caught my eye was the barrel of a cannon. For the second time in one day I was looking at the wrong end of a pistol. As ny eyes strayed from the mouth of the pistol, I saw that it was held by a girl. Woman, really, as she was tall. Taller than me, even allowing for her high heels. She had fair skin, accented by her long black hair. She was wearing a white gauzy see-through blouse that embellished her full breasts and wore black form- fitting slacks that emphasized her long tapered legs. She had an air of quiet confidence and held the pistol like she knew how to use it. What was worse, she looked like she was rather eager to try it out on me. "Lady," I said. "You can put that gun away. I'm not trying to steal anything except maybe a little food, the loan of some dry clothes, and a chance to get it out of the rain and cold. I banged on the door and hollered all around the place but no one answered. I just figured that no one was home, so I came in." I started to lower my hands. "Keep them up!" she commanded, waving the pistol a bit. She then walked around me, kind of looking me over from every angle, giving little exclamations of approval or disapproval during her inspection. After circling me a couple of times, she got a pair of handcuffs from somewhere. Quickly and efficiently, she pinioned my wrists behind me. Marching me back into the den, she stopped me on a big furry rug lying in front of the fireplace. She made me lay down on my stomach and produced another pair of manacles which she put on my ankles. Then, to add insult to my helplessness, she linked my wrists and ankles together. "Your clothes are soaking," she said rather unnecessarily as if she hadn't seen me dripping water the whole time. "We'll have to do something about that." She left and returned a few moments later with some scissors and calmly began cutting my clothes off me. I mean everything. She stripped me down to the buff so that I was lying there on that rug, bare-assed naked. She kind of giggled while I lay face down on the rug and tried to pull my feet up to hide the crack of my ass. However, she relented a bit and covered me up with another skin. I didn't know whether the rugs were fake or real animal skin, but they sure were soft, warm, and dry. "Hungry?" she finally asked. "Starving," I replied. "I haven't eaten since this morning. I met this girl who offered me a ride to Wells City. We hadn't gone but a little way when she took me down this lonely road, pulled gun on me, and dumped me. Now I find this place, and the first thing I know you pull a gun on me, hog-tie me, and strip me." Then I added quite angrily, "You're damn right I'm hungry, and mad and disgusted too. To top it off, you have me chained up this way for no reason at all." "I only asked if you were hungry," the woman replied. "I'm not in the least interested in your problems or whether you are disgusted or not. I'll get you something to eat." She appeared shortly with a plate of what appeared to be pieces of meat, gravy, and some kind of vegetables in it, and a bowl of milk. She sat the dishes down in front of my face. "You'll have to eat it like my little doggy, but don't worry; when you're through, I'll wash off your face." I looked at the food, rather warily. It looked suspiciously like dog food. She saw my look and laughed. "No, it's not dog food - this time. But if we don't come to some sort of an understanding, it may very well be, next time." I was hungry, and despite the humiliation, began eating. The meat was rich and tender. The vegetables were delicious. But have you ever tried eating while lying on your stomach with your hands tied behind you? It's not easy. You have to estimate where the food is. By the time you get your face down to it, you can't see it. Then you have to get your nose out of the way. No matter how hard you try, you are still going to get your nose and chin messed up. Also, trying to get liquid out of a bowl is no snap. I guess that if a person practices long enough, he would get adept at lapping it up like a dog or cat. In my case, though, I had to kind of purse my lips and suck it up. I finally finished it all, even to the point of licking the plates clean. The woman removed the plates and cleaned up my face. After putting the dishes away, she sat on the sofa, looking down at me. "I'm needing a maid to serve a group of girl friends I am having here in a day or so. If you will act the part, I won't turn you in to the police for breaking and entering and possibly trying to attack me." "I never tried to attack you and I wasn't breaking and entering. I just came in to get out of the rain." "On the contrary, I found you in this house sneaking around, looking for something to steal. Probably if you had found me unarmed, you would have tried to rape me." "Why, you know that isn't true!" "Who do you think will believe you, after I tell them my story of how I caught you sneaking up behind me, trying to attack me?" I was beat and I knew it. There wasn't a soul who would believe my story. I could hardly believe that it had happened the way it did, and I was there. So, I asked, "Maid? What's with the maid bit? A maid's a female, I'm not, so that leaves me out. I may be a lot of things, but I'm no girl." "If you agree, when I'm through, no one will know the difference. I can put some makeup on you, dress you up, and you'll look quite attractive." "Hell, no! I'm not going to agree with such a silly thing." "OK., I'll just call the cops and tell them I caught you in my bedroom." "Why, I'll just tell them what really happened," I responded. "I'm sure they'll realize that it was just a mistake," I replied desperately, knowing that no one would believe it. What was worse, she knew it too. Chapter Two "That's your side of it. But I'm not so sure that they'll believe your story after I tell them my story, especially with this sort of thing going on." She dropped a newspaper in front of me. Craning my neck, I managed to read the headlines and the first few lines of the lead story. "RAPIST STRIKES AGAIN," it read. "For the third time this month, a rapist attacked a woman in an isolated home. The police are baffled, but believe it to be the work of an itinerant worker who has holed up somewhere since the rapes were always in conjunction with a robbery." It went on in the same general tone. There was even a description given by one of the victims. Uncomfortably, I noted that it fit me quite accurately. "Now," said the woman, "what do you think they'll do when I turn you in?" I knew what they'd do and the outcome wasn't very pretty to contemplate. I may eventually convince them that I wasn't guilty, maybe even produce an alibi (my old landlord?), but during the time they spent checking it out, I'd be in for a rough time, and it would probably be for a long time. "If I agree to do this, you won't turn me in?" "That's right. You do as I ask and no cops." "OK., you got a deal," I gave in. "I'm glad to see you're reasonable. I can just imagine how the police would question you," she responded. Then she added, "Now that we have come to an understanding, the first thing that we're going to have to do is to get rid of that ugly hair on your body, arms, and legs. Since it's rather late and you need a bath anyway, we'll just go ahead and do it tonight. We'll start your other lessons in the morning." "Remove my body hair? Other lessons tomorrow? What the hell is this? I don't need all that junk just to serve a few plates." "You just agreed to do as I asked and already you're trying to get out of it. You will either do it my way, or I'll call the cops. Now which do you want?" "Alright, you win. I guess I can take anything for a day or so." Once I agreed, she yanked the skin off me and released the leg irons. "OK., young man, let's get going." By now I was warm and dry and despite the humiliating method, well fed. I struggled to my feet. "I agreed to your terms. You can take these things off my wrists now." "You agreed verbally. I don't know what's going on in your mind. What you are going to be doing can be done just as well with those things still attached. Now, move on." I headed back to the bedroom where the bath was located, my female guardian following, occasionally prodding me. I noticed that she was no longer carrying the gun. We reached the bathroom and she began applying a lotion to my body. Starting at my forehead and working her way down to my toes, she covered every inch of me. It was kind of titillating, especially when she got to my groin where she liberally applied the lotion to my cock and balls. I began responding to the handling. In other words, I was beginning to get a hardon. The woman stopped, reached for long-handled bath brush, and slapped down my erect member. It hurt! My eyes watered and all thoughts of arousal were gone. I went completely limp. She acted as if nothing unusual had happened, as though she whacked erect cocks every day. She went on with her task. In a few more minutes I was completely covered with the gooey stuff. "Just stand there awhile and let that lotion do its work. I'll be back when it's time to remove it." She went out, closing the door behind her, leaving me standing there. With no clothes and my wrists locked behind me, I wasn't going anywhere. Besides, I heard the lock click after she left. Apparently the door could be locked from the outside. With nothing else to do, I stood there - and stood there. Meanwhile, the lotion was beginning to work and my skin was beginning to feel itchy. So I stood and waited some more. Finally, when I felt I couldn't stand any longer and my body felt like one big rash, the lock clicked and the woman entered. She looked me over rather critically, ran a fingernail lightly down my leg, examined it, and nodded in satisfaction to herself. She started the shower, motioned for me to enter, and I did. When I got fully wet, she started rubbing me down with the bath brush. It was scratchy and uncomfortable. What was worse, I could see all of my hair coming off with the brush. Now, I didn't think I was exceptionally hairy, but I could see gobs of hair coming off and going down the drain. Even my pubic hair was going and the woman seemed to take a perverse delight in giving that area a good scrubbing. Satisfied that the hair was all removed, she motioned me out of the shower and began rubbing me down with a big fluffy towel, and then began applying a soft soothing lotion to my now hairless body. The feeling was amazing. My denuded skin seemed so much more sensitive and delicate. I was suddenly aware of every waft of air, of minute changes in temperature as she led me from the bath into the bedroom. "You look much more presentable now," she said after examining me to make sure I was completely hairless. "Oh, one other thing. I want you to know that the lotion has a hair growth inhibitor in it. Your face should stay smooth for two or three days; the rest of your body for at least a week." "You need a name. You're fairly light complexioned and blonde. 'Gretchen' seems rather appropriate. Hello, Gretchen. You can call me Miss Irene. Just always remember the respectful Miss." "My name is --" She slapped my face, hard. Then she put her hand over my mouth. "Gretchen, I don't give a damn about what it used to be or even what you did. As far as you and I are concerned, you have just been born. Do you understand?" "Yes, Miss Irene." "It's kind of late," she said. I looked at the clock. It was well after eleven and I realized that I was quite worn out. "Tomorrow we'll start training you so that you may be a passable maid. You may as well start getting used to feminine clothing tonight. I'll get you a pair of panties and a bra. We'll pad it out, and of course you will need a nightgown." She came over and removed the handcuffs. "I guess it's all right to remove these now. Besides, it would be difficult to dress you while you're wearing them." She started over toward the bureau to get the clothes. I figured it was now or never. I had been forced to agree to her terms under duress, which as far as I was concerned carried no validity. I'd just beat the hell out of her, find some clothes and get the hell out of there. I had no desire to be her maid, and as far as I knew, she would still turn me in at the first opportunity anyway. Without another moment's hesitation I jumped her with the full intention of overpowering her and leaving her manacled with her own handcuffs. Now, the idea may have been pretty good, but the execution left something to be desired. As I started to jump she turned and grabbed me by the writs and using my own momentum, slammed me to the floor. I staggered to my feet and before I knew what had happened, she grabbed me by my other wrist and slammed me against the wall. Then she lowered my head and butted me right in the gut. I doubled over and she rabbit-punched me on the back of my neck and my little revolt was quelled. I was licked. "I can let you up and we can go at it again just to prove it was no accident," she said in a conversational tone, stepping back to give me an opportunity to rise. I clambered to my feet, still a bit shaky. "Uh, no, thanks." I didn't need or want any more proof. She was quicker, more agile, and better trained than I was. At the moment, it would not have surprised me to discover that she was stronger than I. The one grab that I did make at her felt like I was grabbing a steel cable. "So where's the damn clothes," I muttered. As I was getting up, she was getting the clothes and tossing them onto the bed. I had no trouble pulling the sleek lace panties up into place about my waist, at least as far as slipping them on. But the sensation was quite another matter. That smooth nylon about my hips and the lace-trimmed elastic around my waist and legs gave me an exotic high you wouldn't believe. The feeling was intensified because of the increased skin sensitivity due to the hair removal. I could feel an erection coming on - fast. Miss Irene saw the sudden bulging at my crotch and wasn't amused. "You will get aroused and have an erection only when I permit it. Cease immediately." Well, that was like telling the tide to quit coming in. There wasn't a thing I could do about it. My captor could do something, and did. She went back into the bathroom and returned with the long-handled bath brush. She positioned herself and held the bath brush like a baseball bat, and - whack! That was all I needed. I subsided immediately. "You may not believe it now, but that thing will become quite obedient," she said nonchalantly, returning the brush to its proper place. I didn't believe her. After all, that thing had a mind of its own and would occasionally pick some of the most embarrassing times to decide to get hard. Besides, wasn't she going to release me in a few days, after I acted as a maid for her little party? Or was she? After we went through the little fracas she then brought over the bra and helped me put it on, and then inserted the pads. Here again, although the sensation wasn't quite as erotic as my panties, it sure wasn't unpleasant. The tightness of the elastic about my chest, the pull of the straps over my shoulders and the weight of the inserts seemed very pleasant, and in an odd way rather natural. "You will look much better with adhered pads, or even better, implants until you grow your own, but for now these will have to do," she commented after viewing the completed task. "That sounds like you want this to be permanent. I thought you said you would let me go if I acted as your maid." "I said I would not turn you over to the police," she retorted. "How long I keep you depends on how you cooperate." As she was saying this, she was handing me a peach-colored waltz- length nylon nightgown with a gauzy overlay of lace. It had short puffy sleeves, ending just below the shoulders. The neck was modestly scooped and ornamented with frilly lace, the same as the cuffs and hem. Once again, the sensation of the dainty nylon and the frilly lace on my denuded and sensitive body was more to be felt than described. But this time there was no erection, or at least none that caused a noticeable bulge in my satiny panties. I was learning. "Time for beddie-bye, Gretchen," she said. "Do you need to use the bathroom before you retire? You know where it is." I nodded and headed for it. I started to close the door when she stopped me. "We're two girls together. We don't keep secrets from each other. And remember, we girls sit down to pee." I took the hint and sat. Oh, well, I thought philosophically, at least I don't have to worry about my aim. "And now to bed. You will soon learn that your sexual activity will be under my direction. Therefore, to prevent you from playing with yourself during the night, you must wear these 'chastity irons'. The chastity irons consisted of a collar locked about the neck, and a pair of manacles attached to it by about 18 inches of chain. This device very effectively prevented my hands from going any lower than my chest. She led me into another bedroom. At first I thought the bed within it was a hospital bed with side rails, but then I realized it was built more like an oversized crib with high side rails. I looked about, finding the bedroom unusually furnished. One side of the room was decorated just like a nursery. There were big murals of barnyard animals on the wall. There was a cabinet that was stacked high with diapers and all sorts of baby powders and lotions. Along the floor there were baby toys and other baby things. The other side of the room was a picture of femininity. There was a dressing table with all sorts of cosmetics and various lotions and powders. There was a dresser with some sort of jewelry box, a pair of pink-shaded table lamps, and other dainty feminine decorations. I really didn't get a good opportunity to investigate all of the furnishings. Miss Irene motioned toward the bed and I crawled in. She raised the side, and then reached over and lifted up a top cover, which she locked down in place. The crib was nothing but a cage! "I feel so much better knowing that you can't walk in your sleep and possibly injure yourself. Now, go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow." Leaving a little ducky night light burning, she closed the door, leaving me alone in my cage with a little furry bear I found laying on the pillow. Chapter Three When Miss Irene left me, I made a quick check and my suspicions were confirmed. There was steel under the wood finish of the crib and the locks, although quite inconspicuous, were solid and secure. There was no way these were going to be opened without the key. I just wasn't going anywhere until Miss Irene came and released me. I tried to sleep but the bed was new to me, the surroundings strange, and I was unsure of my fate. I would doze off, suddenly come awake, then repeat the process. I guess I finally dropped off because the next think I knew, I awoke and found Miss Irene smiling down at me. "Good morning, Gretchen. Did you sleep well? I'm glad you like Toto. Most young girls like a cuddly animal to sleep with. I'm glad you're adjusting so well." Glancing down, I noticed that the bear was snuggled up against my fully-padded bra. Embarrassed, I put it aside and climbed out of the crib. Releasing me from the 'chastity device', she handed me a robe that matched my gown and made me step into a pair of backless mules with about a two-inch heel and a large bow on the toe. After you clean up, you may go to the kitchen and fix my breakfast. I would like one egg fried, sunny side up, two slices of bacon, not too crisp, cinnamon toast, orange juice, and coffee, black. You may serve me in the dining room." She then turned and walked off. Shrugging my shoulders, I did as she bade. It felt kind of funny washing up without having to shave. I felt my face and it was still as smooth as a girl's. It took me a while to get used to the shoes, and when I got to the kitchen, to find all the stuff. I finally succeeded. While I was at it, I fixed myself a couple of eggs, some bacon, and coffee. I brought both plates in and set them on the dining room table. I found Miss Irene in the den and called out, "Soup's on, ma'am." She turned and looked at me coldly. "You are to address me as Miss Irene. You will also make your announcements much more respectable in the future." "Yes, Miss Irene. Your breakfast is ready in the dining room." I don't know why I knuckled under so easily. I knew she could whip me physically, but it was more than that. She just seemed - well, superior. She deserved to be waited on. She went into the dining room and saw both plates of food. "What's this? I didn't order all that!" "Why, I just fixed some for myself. I figured we could eat together." "Eat together? Why, the maid eats in the kitchen. But for being so presumptuous, you shall eat that here today, that food." She pointed. "On the floor. But first you will serve me." So I stood behind her as she ate, refilling her coffee cup or whatever else she wanted. When she was through, she motioned for me to clear the table of her dishes, but stopped me when I started to remove the food I had fixed for myself. She dawdled a while, sipping her coffee, looking at her fingernails, just taking her time. Finally she said, "All right, Gretchen, you may eat," and swept the food, plates and all, onto the floor. I looked at her, then at the food on the floor and started to pick it up. She stopped me. "No, Gretchen. You eat off the floor, with your hands behind you. I can get the handcuffs if you feel it necessary." So for the second time in as many meals, I ate off the floor. Also, I was learning an important lesson. Don't presume. After trying to eat as best I could, she finally stopped me and told me to clean up the floor and then the kitchen. She then left me and went into the bedroom. I had no sooner finished getting things cleaned up and put away, when she called out, "Gretchen! Come here!" Obeying, I went into the bedroom. She was dressed completely in a black one-piece garment that covered her completely and concealed nothing. It was very thin leatherlike material that looked more like it was sprayed on rather than conventionally dressed. Her breasts jutted out boldly, her nipples firm and erect. Her stomach was taut and lean, her belly button plainly visible. The material plainly outlined the thick lips of her vagina at the crotch, actually emphasizing her femininity rather than concealing it. Every line, every tendon in the long tapering legs showed through the material and accented every little movement she made. Her feet were covered by a pair of black suede ankle-high boots with at least four inch heels. In one hand she held a quirt, idly slapping it into the palm of the other. The pale hands and bright red fingernails were in sharp contrast to the dull black of the ominous-looking braided leather quirt. Her long black hair framed her pale ivory face. When she smiled, her small white even teeth appeared in starling contrast to the rich, succulent, deep red lips. She was indeed lovely! She was seductive! For the first time I realized what a male spider must feel when he approached his potential black widow mate. Anything, ever=n, death, was acceptable in return for a tryst. One union with this delectable creature was worth life itself! Miss Irene, however, did not have sex, or at least the kind I was thinking about, on her mind. She was fully intent on domination, training me to be the perfect maid. The conception of bending a male to her will, to make him obey and tend her at every beck and call was a sexual triumph for her. I noticed a small wet spot appear at her crotch when I came in with bowed head and said, "Yes, Miss Irene." "On your knees and kiss my feet, then we'll discuss your training." I obeyed. It seemed right and natural that I should obey this lovely and imperious creature. I did so, not only kissing her feet, but abjectly licking her shoes. As I did, I could feel my own sex pressing against my panties with my act of submission. "All right, Gretchen, on your feet. I didn't mean for you to slobber all over my boots." When I arose and stood before her, she looked at me. She suddenly raised the robe and saw my arousal winning its battle against the smooth nylon panties. Without a moment's hesitation, she lashed out with the quirt. Twice she slashed at my unprotected genitals. Any idea that my poor cock had of being useful was dashed. My erection flat disappeared. "You will not get and erection or even become aroused unless permitted," Miss Irene stated, still holding my nightgown up and watching my genitals disappear into my panties. Chapter Four "It's time you started learning how to present a proper feminine appearance and acquaint yourself with your duties as my maid. You can start by taking a bath. I'll accompany you to insure that you prepare it correctly." We went into the tub, not the ornate luxurious room adjoining Miss Irene's bedroom, but into the room adjoining the one I slept in. Although smaller and not quite as elaborate as the other, it was nevertheless well furnished in a dainty feminine style. I did note that, as in the other room also, that there were provisions for infants here also. She watched as I ran the water. Under her direction, I liberally applied bath salts and bubble bath under the flowing water. As ordered, I removed all of my clothes. As I did so, Miss Irene watched carefully for any signs of arousal. Fortunately for me, there was none. After I finished bathing, and while still sitting in the tub, she again manacled my hands behind me. "Okay, you just lay there and soak awhile. Don't masturbate. I'm going to lay out your clothes. I'll be back in a bit." Taking the clothes I had been wearing, she left, closing the door behind her. I don't know how she thought I could masturbate with my hands chained behind me. She returned a bit later and removed the cuffs. I dried myself off with a nice thick fluffy towel. The sweet perfumed odor of the bath salts still clung to my now dry and tingling body. Miss Irene then led me back to her bedroom where my clothes were laid out on the bed. There was a lacy pair of pink panties with a matching lace bra and slip. Without even being told, I began putting them on. I still needed a bit of assistance putting on my bra and inserts. To digress a moment, the inserts were filled with a heavy gel-like material that had the weight and feel of a natural breast. When they were inserted into my bra cups, they seemed to cling to my chest and react to my body movement, even to the point of having a realistic bounce. The slip was a new experience for me. Unlike the nightgown, it fit snugly about my body, making me fully aware of its presence. Its sleek coolness and the feel of the lacy hem dancing across my hairless thighs sent tingles up and down my spine. Next came the panty hose, sheer and silky. I looked at Miss Irene; her face was expressionless. I knew that I had better not mess this up. Fortunately, I didn't. I drew the clinging material over my toes and heels, up my hairless legs, and on up and over my hips. Now the slip tingled, but the panty hose- ! The taut feeling about my legs and thighs, the delicate constriction of my hips and crotch was just indescribable. No wonder girls liked to dress up! I then slid my feet into my shoes. They fit perfectly. Now, Miss Irene and I were of nearly the same size, so I presumed the clothes she was giving me were hers; but I thought it quite a coincidence that we both wore the same size shoes. In any event, I slipped them on. They were black open-toed pumps with about a three-inch spiked heel. "I gave you those mules with the two-inch heels to get you used to wearing heels. You should adapt to these quite easily," Miss Irene noted. I then put on the dress Miss Irene had chosen, a maid's uniform, really. It was not like those scanty French maid outfits one sees in sex magazines; rather, it was a no-nonsense work uniform, although quite feminine and attractive. It had short puffed sleeves, a belted waist, full-flared petticoated skirt and a white starched pinafore apron, tied in the back with a large bow. She then led me over to the dressing table and began applying makeup. As she applied it, she cautioned me to pay attention. In the future I would be expected to do this for myself. Completing the task to her satisfaction, she went over to the closet and came back with a wig, which, coincidentally, was the exact same shade as my own hair. She put it on my head and spent a few moments brushing it out. Finally, she stopped, looked me over and nodded her head in satisfaction, and asked, "Well, would you like to see what you look like as my feminized maid?" Do fish swim? You bet I wanted to see what she had done to me. I jumped up and made for the full-length mirror, then almost twisted my ankle and fell. Those three-inch spiked heels with a base of less than a half an inch were a far cry from the two inch heels on the pumps. However, I quickly discovered that the basic technique was the same. Only now my steps had to be shorter and more precise. "If you would point your toes straight ahead and kind of walk like you were on a tightrope, you should rather easily and quickly develop a more feminine style of walking," Miss Irene commented to my retreating back. I wasn't paying to much attention to her words; I was busy staring at my reflection. From what I saw, I could easily pass as a girl. Maybe not a beautiful one, but still fairly attractive. My hair, which I had always thought of as a nondescript blonde, was another matter when lengthened and brushed out. It fell in soft waves, almost to my shoulders. There appeared to be tiny glints of gold shining through it when the light struck it in a certain way. My eyes were gray and rather wide set. Miss Irene had accented them with mascara, eye shadow, eye liner, and painfully arched and emphasized eyebrows. My lips were colored a full red and were glossed to a luscious sheen. Finally, my high cheekbones were shaded and lightly colored to draw attention to me eyes. All in all, my face was quite attractive with an open kind of innocent expression. My body didn't look bad either; by necessity, I had skipped a few meals. I had kept pretty trim in my waist and my tummy was lean and flat. The inserts in my bra gave a perfect swelling in the bosom, and the high-heeled pumps put a perfect taper in my legs and calves. I pranced and pirouetted, looking at myself from all angles while Miss Irene smiled indulgently as one does to a child with a new dress. "You do look quite acceptable, Gretchen. We'll finish up with the details later this evening." "Details? What details?" "Why, paint your fingernails and toenails and pierce your ears, for some examples. I'm still leaning toward getting you breast implants until you can grow your own. I guess I'll talk to Mistress Circe about it." "Paint my nails? Pierce my ears? Grow my own breasts? Why do you want to do all that stuff when you are going to let me go in just a few days after I act as your maid for your party?" "I told you before, I never promised to let you go right away. I only told you that if you agreed I wouldn't report you to the authorities. Now, we'll discuss what happens later at another time. All I'll say now is that you should prepare yourself to stay a while." "Why, you can't do that! You can't keep me here against my will." "I can do any damned thing I want to with you, and do it for as long as I please. Don't forget that. No one knows you're here, and I doubt that anyone really cares." "Now you have a house to clean, so get with it." "I'll be damned if I will," I said. "I'm not going to do a damned thing until you promise to let me go as you said." Miss Irene just looked at me and sighed. "I just knew it would eventually come to this. Well, if you need a demonstration, then you shall have one." She got up and went over to a bureau, reached into one of the drawers, and returned, carrying the quirt in her hand. She approached me, and I began backing away but tripped, not being used to the high-heeled shoes. She reached down, grabbed my by my wrist and forced me to my feet. With no apparent effort, she twisted my arm way up behind my back, forcing to me to bend over helplessly. She marched me over to the bed, sat down, and forced me to lay across her lap. Laying the quirt down on the bed beside her, she raised my dress and slip. She then pulled down my panties and hose, leaving my bottom exposed to the world. Picking up the quirt, she began whipping me. I squirmed, I struggled, all to no avail. Meanwhile, she was vigorously applying the braided quirt to my bare bottom. I began swearing, but that didn't help, so I began pleading, almost crying. The pain was really becoming quite severe. It had no effect on my tormentor. She kept laying down the quirt where she felt it would do the most good. Finally, exhausted, I gave up the struggle and lay whimpering and quiescent across her lap as she continued with the whipping. Once I gave up the struggle, she ceased. "Do we have an understanding that you are my feminized maid and will do as I say? I can continue this all day. It doesn't hurt me a bit." "You win," I moaned. "I'll do anything you say, just let me up." She gave me one last vicious whack and then released me. "Now pull up your panties and straighten your dress!" Gently and as delicately as I could, I pulled my panties and hose up over my tender bottom and pulled down my slip, fluffing out my skirt so that it again hung neatly. She arose from sitting on the bed and stood facing me. "Now, curtsy for me and say that you are sorry for questioning my authority, and that you will obey me in the future." All thoughts of rebellion were erased by the pain in my bottom. My only thought was to appease this iron hard female who looked so lovely, innocent, and delicate. I made an attempt at a curtsy and said, "I'm sorry I questioned your authority, Miss Irene. I will obey all of your orders in the future." "Just don't forget this mild lesson. I can do this anytime I wish, and if I think it necessary, I have a room where I can hang you from the ceiling and lash you with a real whip until you get the message that I am your superior." I inwardly shuddered. After this last fiasco, I knew she could and would do it if she thought it was necessary or if she just had the notion to discipline me severely. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ÉÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ» º IBM Compatables Only The Exchange Must be eighteen or older º º Node One 1.2 Gigs Node Two º º (305) 928-0461 (305) 491-3598 º º USR HST 9600 Ft Lauderdale's Best USR HST 14400 º ÈÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍͼ ·