During the next two hours, Prissy and Chrissy learn the true, terrible nature of the domestic servitude that is now to be their daily lot. Prissy is set to work downstairs, closely supervised by Beverley, and poor Chrissy is made to climb the steep stairs and work upstairs. Luckily, Heather has no intention of insisting that he carry the vacuum cleaner with him. She takes the device herself, easily carrying it up the stairs, while poor Chrissy struggles desperately behind her, each step in the pink patent leather, five inch stiletto heels a terrible test, especially given that his ankles remain tightly hobbled!
Eventually, sweating, his delicately hosed ankles aching terribly, he reaches the upstairs landing and finds himself facing a cruelly amused Heather.
'That seemed rather an effort,' she whispers, her beautiful mouth curved into a sadistic smile, her emerald eyes burning with perverse pleasure. 'We'll start with the corridor, then work our way through each room. But first, let me show you the upstairs cleaning cupboard. You've probably never seen it before.'
Chrissy follows his beautiful sister down to the end of the corridor, tottering desperately to keep up, his bottom wiggling with a helpless femininity, his backside tormented by the buzzing vibrator, his breathing hard and desperate against the constant pressure of the urine soaked dummy gag.
His torments are made worse by the tunnel vision created by the dainty bonnet. All he can to is look straight ahead, straight at his sister's long, black nylon sheathed legs, these glorious objects of a dark desire fuelled by the terrible sex drug that is flowing so powerfully through his sissified body.
By the door to his mother's room is a small cupboard. Heather opens it to reveal a dark space lined with shelves laden with yet more cleaning materials.
'You can keep the hoover in here from now on,' his gorgeous sister snaps.
He nods briefly and then, to his surprise and horror, she lashes the crop into his tormented, hosed thigh. He squeals into the gag and fights the urge to give her a particularly outraged glare. Instead, he stares angrily down at his high heeled feet.
'When you understand, I expect a small bob curtsey, not a sullen nod. Do you understand?'
He nearly nods again, but manages to stop himself and then attempt a small curtsey in the lovely, sexy dress. Unfortunately, all that happens is not he nearly looses his balance in the precarious heels. Heather bursts out laughing and then pulls him roughly into the middle of the hallway. For the next ten minute she helps him practice curtseying, showing him the deep "greeting curtsey" to be used when he presents himself before any of his many mistresses, and the "bob curtsey", designed specifically to indicate ascent or understanding. By the end of this session, Chrissy understands that when he comes before a mistress, he must take up the be-frilled skirt of his baby maid's dress and raise it to reveal his petticoats and panties before performing a deep, ultra-submissive curtsey. He also understands that, as he is never to talk and will be permanently gagged, he must always indicate his understanding or ascent by a tiny little dip which involves a very slight bend of his nylon sheathed knees and a very quick flash of his panties.
Satisfied that her sissy brother can now curtsey to an acceptable standard, Heather, a wicked grin lighting up her beautiful face, sets him to work. Thanks to some harsh inspiration from the riding crop, he quickly comes to understand how the vacuum cleaner works and is soon mincing up and down the hallway with the machine, companied by an avant garde symphony of electrical humming and tinkling sissy ankle bells.
'Keep your back straight, Chrissy!' Heather snaps, taping his pantied bottom with the crop. 'And your legs together. And don't forget: tiny, delicate steps!'
He does as she demands, reducing his walk to an even more sissified wiggle mince and thus ensuring that the vibrator buzzing so teasingly in his backside is forced even deeper into the dark heart of his physical being. He moans with a helpless, tormented pleasure into the dummy gag and Heather laughs even louder.
'Yes, you're really enjoying this, you little sissy slut. Being dolled up in pretty tights and panties, tottering on dainty heels, gagged with a piss stained dummy. You must be in fucking sissy heaven.'
He tries to ignore her terrible teasing and concentrate on this first domestic task, a task made so very hard by the shackles and the bonnet, by the uncomfortable heat generated by his sissy attire, by his rock hard, ringed and rubberised sex, by the sight of his beautiful, regal sister exercising an absolute and highly erotic power.
After the hallway comes his mother's bedroom, the scene of the strangest and most exciting events of the last 24 hours. He tries to resist the sensual memories of being suckled and nappied, of her splendid, ample body and her promise of even darker, sexier delights to come. He also tries to fight off another even darker memory: his secret visits to this room when he had thought the house empty; visits to indulge his guilty passion for the incredible mature beauty; visits to her underwear drawers to feel and smell her glorious sheer hose and soft, silk panties, to press his face against her dresses and high heeled shoes. Visits to explore her dirty washing basket, where there were yet more tights and panties, all marked with the intimate scents of his gorgeous mother.
'You seem even more disturbed,' Heather suddenly intervenes.
He tries to ignore her and get on with the cleaning.
'Is it because you are back in mummy's room, back in the room where you used to come to be the sissy pervert you've always been? Yes, I can well imagine! Did you sniff her panties and dream of being fucked by a boy while wearing them?'
The words cut into him, yet, to his horror, they also excite. Tears of frustration and confusion well up in his pretty eyes.
Then she comes closer and tells him to turn off the vacuum cleaner. He obeys and she makes him stand to attention before her, his gloved hands behind his back.
She stands at least 6 inches taller than him - he is totally overwhelmed. Her strong perfume tickles his button nose and he moans into the fat dummy gag. He stares at her large, firm breasts, sealed so tightly in the second skin black sweater, and begs for an impossible mercy.
She stares down at him, her smile cut through with sexual arousal. Then she slips the crop beneath the thick petticoats of his dress and directly between his legs, where she rubs its gleaming ivory body hard against the outline of his tightly restrained and tortured sex.
'Dear me, Chrissy, still hard as a rock. You really must be a terrible pervert. I bet you're even enjoying this…being humiliated by your sister, trapped in sissy dainties and heels. Aren't you?'
He is not sure whether this is a question or an order. His stomach turns with a dizzying, helpless desire. He fills his wide, sex-ravaged eyes with her long, nylon sheathed legs and nods, unable to control this final, awful confession.
She smiles darkly and tells him to follow her over to the bed. She then makes him kneel and put his hands behind his back. She uses a pair of white stockings taken from one of their mother's undie drawers to then bind his arms tightly behind his back at the wrists and elbows. She then removes the bonnet. He looks up at her with tearful, tormented eyes; he moans desperately into the dummy gag, his vision filled with her gorgeous, muscular thighs sealed in the sheerest of sexy black nylon. He is truly overwhelmed.
She leans forward and carefully unties the dummy gag.
'No a word, Chrissy, or it'll be 6 cuts of the crop and a double does of laxative for super.'
He nods warily, his desire now brutally apparent in a look of furious longing.
She removes the ribbon and pulls the fat teat of the dummy from his tortured, painted lips. He gasps with relief and desire. She then raises her mini-skirt to reveal red panties covered by black tights. She spreads her long legs a little wider and smiles at him.
'I think you know what to do.'
He nods nervously and wobbles forward on his hosed knees. The smell of her sex is already tormenting his babyish nostrils. As he leans his head between her thighs he can see that her panties are soaked and that a dark, circular patch has formed exactly over her sex, the final, inescapable confession of the dark passion his feminisation is inspiring.
For the next 20 minutes or so, he gives his gorgeous, perverse sister a body shocking example of his instinctive oral skills. Pressing his face deep into her pungent nylon and silk sealed sex, he teases her with his lips, tongue and teeth, leaving Heather moaning with a terrible animal pleasure.
As she rives above him, Heather whispers her commands, her voice hoarse with girlish pleasure. She leans back against the bed, her legs spread wide and demands more.
'Use your teeth again. Yes…that's it. Nibble me, right there. Oh yes, Chrissy; oh yes, you naughty sissy slut!'
Covered in her sex stink and juices, his own sex tortured so terribly by the cruel restrainer and rings, Chrissy finds himself taking to his new task with a surprising enthusiasm. As with his mother, he finds the act of giving pleasure deeply satisfying and highly arousing. Bound and prone, he is helpless to resist Heather's demands; yet also, he possesses a very real power over her, a power made terribly explicit as she finally achieves a loud, volcanic orgasm, and her screams of fierce pleasure fill the room and ring loudly in his girlish ears.
Now that she is finally satisfied, he shuffles away from her legs, the taste of her filling his mouth, his painted face covered in the cum that has soaked through her panties and tights. He stares up at her as if beholding a goddess of primal desire; he is stunned, angrily aroused and riddled with a dark, inescapable guilt.
She pulls herself up from the bed and stands over his bound, helpless, sissified form, her eyes glazed, a smile of deep satisfaction radiating from her beautiful, flushed face.
'Not bad, Chrissy,' she whispers hoarsely, ' Not bad at all.'
He tries to avoid her wicked gaze, but he finds his eyes pinned helplessly to hers. Suddenly, he is filled with a helpless adoration. She is truly magnificent. All his fear, contempt and anger has passed. Now he knows he is hers completely. Momentarily her eyes register his surrender and her smile softens.
'But it was very naughty of you to make me come like that. You really do deserve to be spanked.'
This is more a promise than a threat, and he finds himself filled with excitement as she pulls him to his feet and quickly re-secures the fat dummy gag. The combined smell of her perfume, sweat and sex wash over him as she guides him to the bed. She sits down and then drags him over her hosed knees. He moans with fear and desire into the gag and she hauls up the skirt of the baby maid dress and the thick forest of soft petticoating, exposing his hosed thighs and tightly pantied behind.
'You really have a shapely bottom, Chrissy,' she says, gently stroking his backside with a warm hand, her voice riddled with sexual need. 'It was made for spanking.'
She delivers ten sharp smacks with her bare hand to his backside and upper thighs, a terribly pleasurable spanking that leaves him moaning with a furious arousal into the dummy gag, his rock hard, tortured sex pressing desperately into her black nylon sheathed thighs, his buttocks arching upwards to receive the wicked attentions of her lovely, relentless hand. After she has completed his punishment, she keeps him held firmly over her lap and then begins to caress his inner thighs, letting her hand slip deep between his pantied buttocks and tease his tightly restrained balls.
'You were made to be a sissy, Chrissy. It's so silly to resist,' she whispers. 'Just look at the fun we can have when you're a good girl.'
He whimpers with pleasure and she laughs.
'If you obey me, if you obey us all, you will learn that your enslavement holds a deep, powerful truth. If you learn to desire your servitude, you will be truly liberated.'
Her voice is soft, gentle, consoling. His response is to relax and enjoy her ministrations, and to feel something quite shocking: acceptance. Yes, perhaps this is all he has ever wanted – to be feminised and enslaved, to be his mother and sister's pretty plaything.
She then helps him to his feet. He stares at her with genuine admiration. His heart fills with a submissive love.
'Do we understand each other, Chrissy?' she asks.
His response is a sexy, perfect bob curtsey. Her smile broadens and she takes him by a gloved hand.
'Good girl. Now let's get you back to work.'
For the next hour he does her bidding with a new willingness; each domestic duty is performed with sissy enthusiasm, with a helpless desire. He is aware of her eyes burning into him and strives to please her, making sure that he performs each task with the tinniest, daintiest sissy steps, with a sexy wiggle of his silk encased bottom, with a delightful jingle of the lovely ankle bells tied to his slender, hosed ankles. Suddenly, all he wants is to serve her, to worship and obey her. The smell of her sex fills his nostrils, the taste of his mother's most intimate juices fills his mouth. The last hour has changed everything. The combination of the sex drug and Heather's sexy ministrations, on top of his wonderful adventure of the night before, have tipped him into a whirlpool of newly revealed masochistic need. No: not new. This, he knows, has always been there, waiting patiently to explode and engulf him.
After completing the vacuuming, he dusts, polishes and wipes. He finds a new sissy grace and care in his movements. Yes, he is liberated. His mind and his body are on the edge of a profound and permanent transformation.
Despite their new, softer relationship, Heather watches him carefully, taping his bottom with the crop when she is unsatisfied with his performance, taps he takes with a strange, perverse gratitude, moaning with pleasure into the dummy gag. As he bends down, as he shuffles forward on hosed knees, he is careful to make sure that his pretty skirt and petticoats rise up to reveal his shapely, tightly pantied and desperately wiggling bottom to her beautiful, sex glossed emerald eyes.
Eventually, he completes the cleaning of the first floor. Heather congratulates him on his sissy skills and then orders him to put his gloved hands back behind his back. She then ties them very tightly together at the wrist and elbows with pink silk ribbons and he moans with pleasure as she forces his elbows to press together and his flat chest to jut out.
'Do like it when I tie you up?' she whispers.
He squeals and nods, forcing his thighs together to push the gently buzzing vibrator deeper into his tenderised back passage.
'Good. Maybe tonight we can play some fun bondage games?'
He squeals louder and nods furiously, feeling a tidal wave of feminine submissiveness wash over his sissified form.
Heather, a promising smile lighting up her face, then leads her slave brother back down the stairs to the kitchen. Here, they discover Debra, Helen and Mrs Eve, together with the beautifully severe forms of Nina Roscoe and Ms Blaine.
Chrissy immediately performs a deep, panty flashing curtsey before this gathering of beautiful, dominant women, who respond with smiles and encouraging claps. Helen is particularly impressed by this new demonstration of obedience and acceptance.
The high chairs remain in the centre of the large, tiled floor area, and already strapped into one of them is the sissified form of Prissy, his girlish eyes filled with a terrible sexual longing and directed desperately at the wondrous form of Mrs Eve.
'Sorry we're a bit late,' Heather says, 'we got a little carried away with the cleaning. Chrissy really was very eager to make sure everything was nice and tidy.'
Helen's smile broadens and she stares carefully at her sissy son.
'He seems a little less agitated,' she says, looking curiously at Heather.
'Yes. I think we've made some real progress this morning, mummy.'
Helen looks at her sissy son with wide, loving eyes. 'I'm very glad to hear it. The curtsey was particularly impressive.'
She then walks up to her sissified son and tips his painted chin up so that her large, brown eyes engulf the helpless, ultra-feminine she-male in an overwhelming gaze of maternal love and absolute power.
'I think you're beginning to understand, my little baby petal,' she whispers, before leaning forward and gently kissing him on his forehead.
Stunned, he is led to the high chair and quickly fitted inside its humiliating grasp. As his skirt and petticoats ride up to reveal more of his pretty panties and sexy, ultra sheer nylon hose, he finds his wide, tormented eyes falling on the striking forms of Dr Roscoe and Ms Blaine.
Both women are watching him intently. The cool, appraising look is frighteningly familiar from the previous day. It is they, he knows, who will be overseeing the sissies more extreme physical alterations. It is they who will ensure that he ends up with a pair of large and utterly convincing breasts! Yet whereas yesterday this thought filled him with horror, now it creates a sense of deeply erotic trepidation. As new feelings of sexually framed ultra-femininity wash over his sissified form, the thought of having breasts is both terrifying and utterly delicious.
'There has already been a marked change in their personalities,' Dr Ruscoe says. 'The power of the sex drug is quite astonishing. Another 72 hours and they will be utterly addicted to their tights and panties, and totally submissive.'
Prissy moans fearfully into his gag and stretches angrily against the strapping securing him to the adult sized high chair.
'Prissy seems less excited by the prospect,' Debra interjects.
Dr Ruscoe smiles. 'It is a question of the physical capacity to resist the drug combined with an inner predisposition to perversity. I suspect Chrissy is physically weaker and was also masochistic and fetishistic some time before the treatment began. Anyway, it doesn't matter. We will increase Prissy's dosage and the transformation will occur.'
Tears trickle from Prissy's eyes. Mrs Eve, still dressed in her stunning silk suit and striking heeled boots, notices this and smiles sympathetically.
'There, there, babikins,' she whispers, coming up to the chair and taking his head in her beautiful chocolate coloured hands. 'I'm sure you'll soon be loving your pretty sissy clothes and big boobies. And just think, tonight you'll be able to show just how much you like me.'
He returns her teasing stare with a look of utter amazement and his eyes then fix once again on her large, tightly restrained breasts. His sobbing ceases and his breathing becomes heavy, laboured with an utterly irresistible desire.
The other women laugh cruelly and Chrissy finds himself envying his sissy partner, until the thought of the unknowing she-male's impending full transformation reminds him of the darker side of pretty Prissy's future.
Casting aside these thoughts, Chrissy finds himself turning his tormented gaze to Ms Blaine and Dr Ruscoe. Ms Blaine is dressed in a tight white nylon sweater that accentuates her very impressive bosom to maximum effect, plus a very tight black skirt that reaches down to just below her black nylon sheathed knees. She is wearing very high heeled, black patent leather court shoes. Around the polo neck of her sweater is wound a string of silver pearls and her thick, dark hair is tied in a tight bun by a matching silver clasp. Her eyes, seemingly coal black, are filled with a strange mixture of erotic excitement and scientific curiosity. She is stunningly beautiful and utterly terrifying. Both sissies know that she and Dr Ruscoe with be the agents of the next, much more profound part of their inescapable transformation into the daintiest and sexiest she-males imaginable.
Dr Ruscoe is a good three to five inches taller than Ms Blaine. Indeed, she is easily the tallest woman in the room. Her golden blonde hair is also tied in a tight bun. Her large, ice blue eyes possess a truly unnerving intensity, yet she is still a very feminine woman. Her full, sensual lips are painted blood red and her teeth are almost blindingly white, their perfection both striking and disturbing. There is a precision about her that smacks of fascism, a fact made more apparent by her sexy Northern European accent and exact, almost military posture.
She is wearing a powder blue silk suit, with a snow white silk blouse. At the centre of the high neck of the blouse is a beautiful oval jewel whose colour matches exactly the Nordic beauty's incredible eyes. She is also wearing white patent leather boots with three-inch heels.
'We will begin the tablet regime today,' Dr Ruscoe says. 'They provide a cocktail of transformative hormones that will soften the skin, aid breast growth and change body mass. One of the tablets will also reduce aggression. This, added with the sex drug and the training regime, will help ensure passivity and total obedience.'
Heather steps forward with a small silver tray. On it are two small piles of coloured capsules and two small plastic glasses filled with water.
She unties and removes Chrissy's dummy gag and then helps the sissy to swallow the capsules. Without replacing the gag, she then turns to Prissy. As she removes the gag, Prissy releases a moan of fear and his pretty eyes widen with a flash of anger. Noticing this, his mother, the gorgeous, plump Debtra, steps forward and slaps him very hard on his hosed, exposed thighs. He squeals with pain and she slaps him again.
'How dare you look at Heather that way, you naughty little girl! Now take your medicine like a good sissy, otherwise I'll personally smoother that disgusting willie of yours in skin irritant and lock it in a pin lined restrainer for a week!'
After this fierce out burst, a significantly cowered Prissy accepts the capsules without even a whimper of complaint. Tears flood from his eyes and his mother, still standing close by, stands over him like a beautiful and very buxom avenging angel. Chrissy looks on in horror and amazement. Her emphasis on penis punishment betrays her secret wish to have her son undergo a full sex change. She is clearly the crueller of the two mothers, and tonight poor Chrissy must serve her in any way she sees fit!
As he ponders the challenges ahead of him, his gorgeous sister and her lovely friend set out lunch on the plastic tables of the humiliating high chairs: a familiar pink mush and a large bottle of warm, sugared milk. Both sissies are, once again, quite starving, and they eagerly accept the savoury mush as it is spooned to them by the girls with much teasing baby talk. The mush is washed down by the bottles. Chrissy gets his bottle from his sexy mother, while Prissy is fed by Mrs Eve.
'You really are doing quite splendidly, petal,' his mother whispers to him, pressing her superb, ample bosom against his hot, snow coloured cheek as she pushes the large rubber teat of the bottle firmly between his delicately painted lips.
He looks at her with helpless sissy love, his eyes wide with a terrible sexual need, and moans girlishly.
'Debbie and Heather want to play with you tonight, my darling; but I've persuaded them to let you sleep in my room afterwards. Just think – we can share my bed! But you'll have to be properly wrapped up and secured – we don't want you getting all carried away.'
His eyes nearly pop out of his head at this stunning, deeply erotic revelation and his mother laughs gently and presses her splendid, perfumed body even closer to his helplessly pretty, sissified form.
After lunch, the two sissies are freed from the high chairs. The dummy gags are quickly replaced and their arms are once again tightly tethered behind their backs. They are then taken upstairs by Heather and Beverley. As they are led towards the stairs, their ankle bells ringing sweetly throughout the hallway, there is a brief moment when they can look directly into each other's eyes. What passes between them is a confession of furious arousal. Yet, whereas Prissy's eyes also still hold a sparkle of resistance, in Chrissy's there is only excitement and a deep, helpless acceptance, something that clearly bothers poor, doomed Prissy.
They are lead very carefully up the stairs, along the first floor corridor, and to the room that was, until a day ago, Christopher's bedroom. Now, however, it has been utterly transformed. The sissies stare in amazement at what the women have managed to do in such a short space of time. The carpeted floor has been replaced with a thin film of white rubber. One entire wall is now a vast mirror, along the centre of which stretches a wooden handrail. In a corner are two salon workstations, complete with sinks, mirrors and hairdresser's chairs. On the table before the oval mirror of each workstation is a huge array of make up and perfumes, plus hairstyling equipment. Beyond the workstations are two exercise bikes, each with a thin leather seat. In the centre of each seat is positioned a three inch rubber phallus!
A long built-in wardrobe runs along the wall directly opposite the mirrored wall, and at the side of the wardrobe is a very strange tubular cupboard made from pink coloured metal; a strange rocket shaped device covered in thousands of tiny, silver coloured stars with a sliding door.
The sissies are led into the centre of the room and then Heather and Beverley set about untying and undressing them. They are quickly stripped down to only their cherry red restrainers, their angry, helpless erections inspired by the large dose of sex drug that laced the lunches.
The she-males moan with fear and a terrible, bottomless desire. They can only watch through sex maddened eyes as Beverly strolls over to the wardrobe and pulls back the long, wooden panel doors. Inside are a set of shelves and cupboards. From these she extracts an array of new sissy attire and returns to her whimpering she-male charges with a dark, cruel smile lighting up her beautiful face.
'For the next hour you will undergo movement training with mummy and Mrs Eve,' Heather explains, her eyes fixed with a very wicked intent upon Chrissy's large, tightly restrained sex. 'Then, there will be make-up training with Debra, and then your first experience of bondage and isolation therapy. All this should keep you busy until at least the early evening. Then, after dinner, you will provide personal services for your mistresses until bedtime.'
The phrase "personal services" fills both sissies with a highly erotic trepidation and they moan with a strange, ambivalent pleasure through their fat dummy gags.
Beverly then reveals the nature of the new costumes extracted from the wardrobe. She holds before the whimpering, helplessly aroused sissies two sheer nylon body stockings, one yellow, one powder blue. The kinky nature of their design is made apparent by lace trimmed holes positioned at the front and rear of the crotch section, and by the fact that the arms of both stockings are sealed in exactly the same manner as the legs: they are to be cocooned from toe to sissy neck in sexy, soft, ultra sheer nylon.
Beverley places the powder blue body stocking at Chrissy's naked feet and then, moving towards a wide-eyed, sex-drugged Prissy, pulls open the neck of its yellow sister. She then helps a shaking, whimpering Prissy to step into the stocking before guiding the kinky, highly erotic costume up his silky smooth body. His well-gagged moans of helpless pleasure increase as the stocking begins to cover his body. Soon his long, feminine legs are sheathed in the equivalent of sheer yellow nylon tights. The front panel section is carefully manoeuvred over his tightly restrained and rock hard sex and then the rest of the lovely costume is pulled over his body. He slides his arms into the sealed arms, and, with a little adjustment, the body stocking is finally glued tightly to his slender sissy form.
Beverley's beautiful, cruel gaze falls upon his sex, currently rather uncomfortably positioned just before the lace edged hole. She smiles and then looks directly into his tormented and very girlish eyes.
'Now, I don't want any silly sissy squealing and wiggling. When I adjust your little boy, you are to remain still and silent. If you disobey me, I will use the crop on it. Understand?'
Prissy nods, utterly terrified.
Beverley then carefully reaches into the lace edge hole, slips a long, strong hand around poor Prissy's rubberised, ringed and helplessly stiff sex and then slowly begins to guide it through the hole. Tears of frustrated pleasure and fear trickle down Prissy's white marble cheeks and the slightest hint of a moan escapes his fat dummy gag.
By the end of Beverley's cruel manipulations, both his rampant sex and balls have been pulled through the hole. It rises up before her like the obscene stem of some bizarre sex flower. Her smile widens, she nods her satisfaction, and then turns her wicked attentions to a very concerned and deeply aroused Chrissy.
In a few minutes, he is sealed in the powder blue body stocking and also fully exposed, his eyes filled with a furious sexual arousal and an absolute need to do whatever these two devilish beauties require of him.
As Beverley admires the two pretty sissies, Heather takes a large pink rubber bag from one of the salon dressing tables and brings it over to this spectacle of ultra-feminisation. Her smile a mixture of cruelty and dark amusement, she pulls open the bag so that the two highly excited and fearful she-males can see inside. What they see inspires more helpless moans of pleasure, for they are staring into a bag full of panties. Of every colour and style – a positive cornucopia of feminine frillies.
'Soiled panties,' Heather whispers, pulling out a pair of pink silk panties ringed with lace. 'Mummy asked the ladies of the neighbourhood to donate a pair each, suitably used. From now on, as you will be personally hand washing all their panties, mummy thought it would be a good idea to use them as gags before they are cleaned. While the dummy gag will be the main tool of silencing, these will be used as we see fit. And movement training certainly seems to be a good enough time as any!'
Beverley removes the fat dummy gags, yet before the sissies can catch even a single breath, Heather has forced panties, damp and pungent gusset first, into their mouths – the pink pair into Chrissy's mouth, a black pair into Prissy's. Long strips of silver duct tape are then stretched over their painted lips to hold the panties firmly in place.
As the sissies come to terms with this latest humiliation, Heather then reveals what appear to be two rubber G strings. Yet rather than the classic triangular front panel, each has the equivalent of a rubber sheath. The nylon sheathed sissies are made to step into the G strings – both white – and allow their gorgeous, unforgiving mistresses to draw them up their long, shapely legs. The sheaths are then drawn tightly over their already rubber imprisoned sexes. The sheath itself is attached to four slender rubber bands, as well as the gusset section, and when they are all pulled into place around the sissies waists, the sheath is held firmly and each sex is positioned firmly against their stomachs.
'A practical device, to stop your willies wobbling all over the place while you undergo movement instruction,' Beverley explains.
Yet even now, the bizarre preparations are not complete. As the two pretty sissies behold their angrily erect, expertly restrained sexes in astonishment and perverse excitement, they fail to notice that Heather has extracted two pairs of knee length boots from the wardrobe. However, as she places the boots at their feet, their eyes are quickly refocused on this new kinky torment.
Before them are two pairs of white leather boots, superb fetish footwear with an intricate pattern of eyelets for thin silk laces running from base to the top, and with delicate silver metal butterflies affixed to each severe toe. Yet none of this is what makes their lovely sissy eyes so wide with amazement and arousal. For each boot has a startling seven inch stiletto heel, plus a three inch curved platform built into each sole.
'Hobble boots,' Heather explains. 'They ensure the most delicate of sissies totters. Essential for any effective instruction in she-male movement.'
The sissies moan with renewed fear as the girls then set about securing their charges' small, girlish feet in these beautiful, sinister implements of she-male torment. They whimper into the tasty panty gags as they are suddenly elevated seven precarious inches from the floor. The curved front to the platform ensures that their feet and toes are bent painfully forward. This produces a terrifying lack of balance and also ensures that the only steps they can possibly take are the tinniest of sissy totters.
It is as Heather and Beverley begin to encourage the she-males to mince forward tentatively that Mrs Eve and Helen enter the room. Both are wearing very long, black silk robes, their hair tied in tight buns with sparkling silver clasps. Helen claps Chrissy's efforts to walk in the heels.
'Well done, Chrissy,' she snaps, 'that's exactly it – the tinniest of steps, and make sure you wiggle that lovely backside as much as possible. Then think what it would be like to have two large, bouncing breasts. Think of the challenge to your balance – think of counterweight.'
Chrissy turns to his beautiful, dominant mother, determined to please her. His sex long and hard, fully exposed but also held tightly in place by the rubber sheath, his nylon sheathed arms at his side, his breathing, thanks to the fat, inescapable panty gag, laboured and hoarse with desire, he totters proudly before her. She smiles encouragingly and then removes the robe. The sight of what lies beneath the robe is such a shock to the tottering sissy beauty that he immediately loses his balance, and his sister has to step forward to prevent him collapsing in a humiliating heap of nylon and heels. But Heather does not scold him, for she can only sympathise with his reaction.
'Good lord, mummy, you look…incredible,' she whispers, more than a hint of arousal in her voice.
Helen stands before them in sheer black nylon tights and a matching leotard. Wrapped around her waist is a gorgeous red and black satin, whale boned corset. Her large, shapely breasts rest on the curved edges of the corset, sheathed in the sheer nylon of the leotard, through which they are clearly visible, especially her long, very erect nipples. She is also wearing a pair of five inch stiletto heeled, black patent leather court shoes, a final sado-erotic touch to this spectacularly sexy display.
Helen smiles at her daughter and whispers a sensual "thank you". And no sooner have these teasing words seeped into the room, than Mrs Eve has also discarded her own robe to reveal her perfect buxom figure glad in a white leotard and matching tights, a white corset and white, kid leather stiletto ankles boots, her arms sealed in gleaming glace ball gloves.
The two women are therefore a startling inversion of their skin colours – Helen a black queen, Mrs Eve a white empress.
The sight of Mrs Eve's splendid form so erotically and expertly displayed is all too much for poor Prissy, and he is soon moaning into his fat panty gag with a brutal, irresistible physical need, his eyes wide, his bottom wiggling with a blind sissy hunger.
It is then that Mrs Eve reveals that strapped to the side of her corset via a narrow white leather belt is a riding crop. Looking harshly at her pretty, agitated sissy charge, she unclips the crop, steps forward and applies a hard cut to his dancing buttocks. Poor Prissy unleashes a high pitched squeal of pain and jumps up in the hair, nearly toppling over when he returns to earth, his eyes filled with tears, his bulging cheeks bright red.
'Put Prissy on the bike first,' Helen snaps. 'And hood him.'
Heather nods and grabs Prissy by his arms. She pulls him over to the strange exercise bike and then makes him bend forward with his legs apart, a move that is made extremely awkward and precarious by the incredible boots. As he bends forward, the hole in the rear of the body stocking perfectly exposes the dark gap between his enflamed, tightly hosed and very shapely buttocks. This gap is quickly filled by Heather's probing hand, and in a few seconds the anal plug has been pulled free and the whimpering, helplessly aroused sissy is once gain standing shakily upright.
Chrissy watches in amazement as Heather then produces a sheer white nylon stocking and very quickly stretches it tightly over his head. She then binds his arms behind his back at the wrists and elbows with white silk cording, before helping him totter up to the side of the bike. He squeals with fear as Beverley rushes over to assist Heather and help her virtually pick him up and then lower him onto the seat of the bike. The girls take care to ensure that his positioned so that his exposed, widened arse is lowered exactly over the hard rubber phallus set into the seat. Then, slowly, teasingly, whispering reassuring and cruel baby talk, the girls lower him onto the phallus and, thus, the seat.
As his body weight forces the phallus inside him, he lets out a very loud squeal of shocked pleasure. And once he is seated, the girls use white leather straps secured to the bike's pedals to his booted ankles and feet.
Chrissy is widely excited by this new kinky ordeal and his eyes betray the deeply sadistic pleasure he is talking in Prissy's suffering.
'Don't worry,' his mother teases, moving closer to her delicately sissified son. 'It will be your turn soon.'
Mrs Eve walks over to Prissy, her long, white hosed legs taking relaxed, elegant strides, her breasts swaying provocatively inside their sheer nylon prison. Poor Prissy's eyes nearly pop out of his head and he moans with a brutal sexual frustration.
'I suggest you start pedalling if you don't want another cut of the crop,' she purrs, her dark eyes filled with wicked pleasure.
He squeals with fear and almost immediately begins to try and pedal the bike. A low hum fills the room and the raised front wheel begins to turn. And as he pedals, his own humming increases; indeed, in a few seconds, his eyes are filled with a narcotic sexual arousal and he is moaning very loudly.
'The pedals operate a small motor, which in turn transforms the phallus into a vibrator. The harder he pedals, the stronger the vibrations.'
Heather's explanation brings a cruel smile to Mrs Eve's beautiful, blood red lips and poor Chrissy whimpers with a dark, erotic expectation.
'Leave him for 20 minutes,' Helen says. 'The exercise will do him good. And if he flags, use the crop.'
Mrs Eve smiles and nods, taking up a threatening position next to her terrified, violently excited charge.
'Now,' Helen says, turning to Chrissy, 'let's get you started.'
For the next 20 minutes, Helen instructs her sissy son in the art of feminine movement. As poor Prissy pedals desperately, a thick sweat soon soaking through his body stocking and hood, his moaning filling the room with a strangely rhythmic accompaniment to Chrissy's own desperate gyrations, Helen teaches her son the rudiments of sissy grace. He is shown how to balance in the precarious heels, how to hold his hands, titled delicately at a 45 degree angle, at his sides; how to keep his thighs together and wiggle his pert, girlish buttocks. He is also shown how to refine his curtsey, and how to kneel and bend in the heels.
His instruction is not incident free. Helen uses her own crop on more than on occasion, making clear to Chrissy that the slightest error will be punished harshly. Yet this seems only to heighten the sissy's arousal. As his mother applies the crop to his sexy, nylon sheathed bottom, his eyes fill with pain and also, a dark, bottomless love. She notices this immediately, moving closer to him so that his eyes can feast on her spectacular form and her powerful rose perfume can tickle his flaring nostrils. How much he wants her. How much he wants to serve her, to meet any test for her – to endure any humiliation. He is her property and so very proud of this simple fact of his utter and inescapable enslavement. And tonight, he will share her bed, even if very tightly bound and gagged. In fact, all the better that he is to be bound and gagged!
He tastes the sex of an unknown woman and hopes so very much it is hers.
After 20 minutes, his mother judges that his lesson for today is complete. Now, it is Prissy's turn. Mrs Eve and Heather help the hooded sissy to stop his desperate pedalling. The poor she-male is utterly exhausted and furiously aroused. He is detached from the saddle, unhooded and untied, then carefully placed in a chair by the wardrobe. While this is happening, Helen and Beverley remove Chrissy's plug then hood and bind him. He whimpers helplessly, so terribly excited, his own buttocks still stinging from the corrective application of the crop.
As he is lowered onto the second bike, as the phallus slips between his buttocks, he looks at his mother with a babyish need and she smiles.
'There, there, Chrissy,' she whispers. 'Everything will be fine.'
As the phallus enters him, a sudden, terrible panic grips his stomach. The head of the phallus is much larger than the plug: it feels like he is being split in two! He will be torn, seriously injured! But then his buttocks touch the saddle and he can feel the phallus slip very deep inside him, a very strange and intensely erotic experience.
Then he pedals; inspired by a teasingly light cut of the crop from his mother, he is soon pedalling hard, an effort made much more severe by the kinky, restricting boots. He moans furiously into the panty gag. His lips stretch uselessly against the thick tape sealing them so very effectively. Already hot from his movement work out, he is soon sweating profusely. And then the vibrations begin. Deep, hard throbs that seem to render his whole sissified form a vast, mind shattering body quake.
And as he approaches a strange state of sado-erotic bliss, he notices, through the fine, damp film of scented white nylon covering his face, that a dazed Prissy is now undergoing harsh instruction in movement from the gorgeous, buxom and utterly unforgiving Mrs Eve. She applies the crop with a far greater enthusiasm than his mother, and poor Prissy is virtually dancing a jig of pure pain as he attempts, very unsuccessfully, to keep up with her robust instruction.
By the time Mrs Eve relents, poor Prissy collapses in an exhausted heap on the floor. Then his mother tells him to slow down and stop. Chrissy is also quite shattered, but also even more excited. As he is pulled from the bike, he wants only to endure more bondage, more humiliation, more relentless maternal control.
'He's quite out of it,' Heather whispers.
'Yes. Exactly. He is out of himself. Out of that horrid male self.'
His mother's proud words ring in his pretty sissy ears as he is taken over to Prissy and made to sit down beside him, still hooded and tied. His mother then binds his ankles and knees with more cording, as Mrs Eve re-hoods and binds Prissy. The two sissies are then left back to back stocking hooded, bound and gagged. The light to the room is flicked off and the door locked. They are left in total darkness, the only sounds their laboured breathing and their thumping sissy heart beats.
They are left in this bound, exhausted, mentally shattered state for nearly 20 minutes. Both whimper with a strange mixture of arousal, pain and humiliation into their soft, fat panty gags and wonder with girlish trepidation what the next chapter of their bizarre ultra-feminisation will hold. Poor Chrissy's back passage has been stretched wider than ever and a deep rooted feeling of physical openness makes him feel even more helplessly feminine.
The sissies sit trapped in a web of deep, inescapable sexual torment for nearly twenty minutes. Chrissy savours the most intimate tastes unleashed by the soft, silky panties filling his mouth. In the utter darkness of the room, he listens to Prissy moan with a mixture of pain, fear and terrible arousal. Prissy's own sex remains hard rock, the metal rings biting cruelly into the boiling, rubber sealed flesh. His balls, also wrapped in tight red rubber, bulge angrily. His mind is overwhelmed by a pervasive sexual hunger. Mental images of his beautiful imperial mother and his gorgeous, wicked sister turn every thought into a spectacular erotic speculation.
He feels Prissy's boiling hot back through the sweat soaked material of the body stocking and knows that he too is suffering, both from pain and from a wild, bottomless desire. Their physical closeness brings a dark, inescapable excitement. He remembers the ordeal of their bondage in the playpen and facing the younger she-male's strikingly feminine beauty in the workroom. He knows the women intend to turn them into ultra-feminised sissy lovers and that Debra's long term ambition for her unfortunate son is a complete sex change. Yet now, the thought of making love to Prissy inspires no fear or disgust. Instead, possessed by the fierce fire of the sex drug and the emergence of his own latent masochism, he feels only a powerful attraction and soon finds himself wiggling in his tight sissy bondage and fantasising about caressing, kissing and cuddling pretty, helpless Prissy.
His fantasies are interrupted by the sound of a key being turned in a lock. Then the door opens and the light is flicked on. There is a moment of blinding whiteness, out of which emerges the glorious figure of Debra.
She is dressed in a cream coloured, high necked white silk blouse, an ankle length silver grey skirt and high heeled ankle boots. Her hair is bound in a tight bun with a sparkling diamond clasp. Her lips are painted blood red, as are her long, sharp nails. She is wearing white kid leather gloves, and in her right hand is a long, fierce-looking, ivory handled riding crop. This is the stunning, cruel woman who he must soon serve in any way she sees fit.
Startled by this vision, which is framed by the haze of sheer white nylon created by the tight stocking hood, Chrissy moans with an angry passion.
"Untie and strip them,' Debra snaps, her whole demeanour now that of a bold, irresistible dominatrix.
Behind her are Heather and Beverley. They step forward and haul the sissies to their delicately stockinged feet. Then they are untied and the hoods and sweaty body stockings removed, leaving them gagged, naked and tightly restrained.
'Wipe them down and put them in the salon chairs."
The girls follow Debra's instructions with an unusual seriousness. They take damp, heavily scented towels from the dressing tables and carefully wipe the sweat from the sissies tormented bodies. As Heather works on Chrissy, their eyes meet, and, much to his surprise, the reluctant she-male beholds fear and the residue of tears. Beverly, too, has clearly been crying.
Baffled and strangely aroused the sissies are led to the adjustable salon chairs by the dressing tables and make up areas. The girls then take pink rubber capes folded on the chairs and drape them over the sissies shoulders. The capes fall all the way down to their girlish ankles. There are sleeves for their arms, and the front of the capes button up tightly with the aid of large, white plastic buttons.
Once the sissies are carefully secured in the capes, the girls carefully pull their violently erect and tightly restrained cocks through an appropriately positioned gap between two of the buttons. The sissies renew their excited squeals before being forced down into the salon chairs.
Shackles positioned on the armrests are used to secure their wrists. Similar shackles attached to the metal foot rests are used to imprison their bare ankles. The girls then carefully remove the tape covering their lips and extract the pungent panty gags.
"Not a sound!" Debra shouts from behind the chairs. 'One peep and you'll be cropped on your bare arses and gagged with the girls' used tampons.'
The two beautiful young women flinch at the sound of Debra's harsh, strident voice and the sissies bow their pretty heads in shame and fear. Debra is becoming more powerful and unforgiving by the minute, and tonight poor Chrissy will be hers to command!
Debra moves between the salon chairs and the two girls steps backwards fearfully.
'Over the coming weeks,' she says, her eyes directed towards the mirrors and thus into the eyes of the terrified sissies, 'you will learn the fundamental techniques of make up. By the end of your initial training period, you will be experts in transforming yourselves into the prettiest sissies imaginable.'
Chrissy and Prissy stare up at the impressive figure of Debra and contemplate their sissy fates. Fresh tears begin to trickle from Prissy's eyes as he listens to and beholds his startling, all-powerful mother.
'Today, however, we have to complete your body decoration. Then you will spend an hour in bondage and isolation therapy. I think we will start with your cocks.'
The sissies eyes widen at the mention of their sexes, but before they have the chance to consider Debra's words in detail, Beverley and Heather step forward and take from each table a large, circular sponge. These are quickly stuffed deep into the sissies mouths. As they struggle with these soft, damp and powerfully scented mouth fillers, the girls take from the tables two small glass pots of what looks like blood red paint. Resting in each is a long, thin paintbrush. Debra then leans over her moaning, furiously aroused son and does something amazing: she begins to remove the restrainer.
Poor Prissy's moans transform into startled, angry squeals as his beautiful mother carefully unclips the three cock rings and places them on the dressing table. Debra's powerful musk perfume washes over the two pretty sissies as she then returns her attentions to Prissy's tightly rubberised cock.
His squeals increase in volume as she very carefully works the edge of the rubber restrainer over his fat, bulging testicles and then begins to roll it up the hot, tight shaft of his hard, aching sex.
'Shhh,' she whispers, a sudden note of maternal tenderness in her sexy, husky voice.
'It'll soon be over.'
And it is. She finally pulls the restrainer free of his sex, and a sigh of terrible relief fights its way past Prissy's fat sponge gag.Then Debra turns her wicked attentions towards a wide-eyed, deeply apprehensive Chrissy.
The older sissy tries his hardest to avoid the girlish display of Prissy, but no sooner are Debra's long, elegant hands working on the rings and her large, firm breasts are swaying just inches from his tormented body, than he is singing a well gagged chorus of helpless sissy squeals. And by the time Debra finally pulls the sinister rubber device from Chrissy's tortured sex, there are tears of the most intense pleasure and frustration in his pretty, girlish eyes.
As the gorgeous, imperial Debra places the hot, soft restrainers on the dressing tables, Beverley and Heather set to work. The poor sissies watch in utter astonishment as they once again step forward and take up positions beside them, Heather by Chrissy, Beverley by Prissy. Then they begin, carefully, even nervously, to paint the sissies furiously erect cocks!
As the she-males squeal with shock and a reluctant pleasure, Debra explains this latest torment.
'The body paint is essentially the same powerful, resilient dye that has been applied to your faces. It will take many months to fade and will be a constant reminder of the absolute control that your mistresses now wield over you. The intricate decoration of the female and mutilation of the female body has always been a primary weapon in patriarchal control. Now, we are turning the principle upon itself.'
The sissies whimper and squeal, they fight the shackles and tears of acute frustration and painful arousal trickle from their soft, feminine eyes and down snow white cheeks in tiny streams of utter despair. Cruel smiles have returned to the lovely faces of Beverley and Heather. They are taking a renewed sadistic pleasure in this latest dark humiliation.
The long, hard shafts are quickly coloured a dark cherry red. The sissies bulging balls are then also decorated. The girls step back and admire their kinky work, and then Debra turns her attentions specifically to a wild eyed, terribly excited Chrissy. In the next 15 minutes she very carefully paints his toes a matching cherry red, before fitting long, sharp and also cherry coloured false fingernails to his elegant, helplessly feminine fingers. As she works, poor Chrissy can only sit helpless, his exposed and painted cock rising upward like a sex rocket about to plunge into a black hole of bottomless desire. Her perfume washes over him like a cloud of sex mist and he stares down at her tightly restrained and very large breasts with a sense of utter submission to the supreme power of the feminine.
As Debra works on Chrissy, so Heather works on poor Prissy, and the confused, angry, helpless moans of the two pretty, ultra-sissies fills the room.
After the fingernails, Debra uses exactly matching lipstick on Chrissy's stretched lips, her gorgeous, plump face hovering over his like a grand holy vision, her breasts pressing against his rubber sheathed chest.
'I can't wait until this evening, Chrissy,' she whispers, applying the finishing touches. 'We're going to have such peculiar fun.'
He looks up at her and moans fearfully. Seeing his genuine terror, so obviously laced with an inescapable excitement, her smile widens.
Once his lips are finished, she returns to the dressing table. As she bends forward, his eyes wander over her skirt, stretched so very tightly against her large, but shapely backside. He moans with a masochistic sexual hunger and imagines being eaten alive by this stunning, divine dominatrix.
Then she turns to face him once again. In her left hand is a small silver metal object, or rather two slender metal strips fixed to a base that seem to meet at a point of two sharp metal teeth.
'A skin piercer,' Debra announces, her beautiful eyes aflame with cruel passion. 'To makes holes for rings.'
Poor Chrissy's eyes widen as she leans forward. He begs for mercy into the fat sponge gag, but he knows there will be none.
Before she applies the terrifying piercer, she uses a special numbing cream to deaden feeling in four areas: his ears, nostrils, nipples and…his testicles!!
Prissy's terrified squeals indicate that he too is about to be pierced, and Chrissy is soon joining in this high pitched symphony of terror as Debra carefully takes his left ear lobe in her beautiful fingers and then fits the teeth of the piercer very carefully over it.
There is a sudden, intense pressure and a dull pain. Then Debra removes the device and begins work on his other ear. Chrissy is surprised by how pain free the experience is, and remains silent, but tense, as his right ear lobe is also pierced. Then, Debra teasingly unbuttons the front of the pink rubber cape to allow her evil piercing tool access to the she-male's nipples. More cream is slowly, even erotically applied. Their eyes meet and poor Chrissy feels his cock harden to its full extent. His eyes fall helplessly on her large, shapely, silk-encased breasts. She smiles and then quickly pierces both surprisingly long, dark pink nipples. Now there is a sharper pain and tears of discomfort well up in Chrissy's pretty sissy eyes. Debra's smile widens as she presses the sharp teeth of the piercer into the meat of his helplessly exposed nipples. Her sadistic arousal is appallingly obvious, and this dark pleasure she takes in inflicting pain on the she-males only excites poor Chrissy even more.
As soon as she is finished with his nipples, she carefully kneels down and begins to ease the film of skin at the base of his scrotal sack from beneath the cape. Chrissy squeals with a mixture of terrified anticipation and genuine discomfort. Debra laughs and then pierces the skin. Perhaps even more surprisingly, there is no pain, and as the lovely, evil-eyed dominatrix rises to her high-heeled feet, a large sigh of relief escapes Chrissy's fat sponge gag.
As Prissy's terrified squeals die down, it becomes clear that the piercing of both sissies is now complete. Then comes the next stage of the body decoration process.
Heather and Debra take small, circular, black velvet-covered boxes from the dressing tables and turn to face their helpless sissy charges. Chrissy stares at the box that Debra opens inches before his face with a growing sense of dark trepidation. His sissy heart pounds and a moan of girlish fear escapes his well gagged mouth.
Yet what is inside the box brings a gasp of surprise rather than horror; for Chrissy finds himself looking down on a pair of diamond stud earrings, three silver rings and a small, circular diamond stud.
Debra, looking him straight in the eyes, extracts the earrings and then delicately attaches one to each of his small, girlish ears. He feels very little, other than his stiff sex pressing angrily into his belly.
The earrings are followed by the separate silver rings, two for his nipples and one for the thin piece of skin beneath his bulging testicles. She attaches these with a similar care, and poor Chrissy is left moaning with a vague, helpless pleasure, especially as she carefully manipulates his balls to make sure the scrotal ring is attached properly.
Then, finally, she takes the final, circular diamond stud and holds it before him.
'This is for that pretty little belly button, sweetness,' she purrs, her eyes glowing with sexual arousal.
She peels a small strip of adhesive material off the rear of the stud and then, with an intense concentration fuelled dark desire, inserts the stud deep into Chrissy's navel.
And as she completes this final task, he finds himself turning his head towards Prissy. Heather, too, has just completed the insertion of the navel stud and is staring down at the daintier, and arguably, prettier she-male, with amused, aroused eyes.
'Right,' Debra suddenly snaps. 'Let's get the hair sorted, then get them into the BAIT tank for the rest of the afternoon.'
Still stunned by the multiple piercings, the sissies can only watch in startled, well- gagged silence as the women produce two fierce looking electric razors and proceed to reduce their already short hair to two micro-thin buzz cuts, an act of pure cruelty that leaves their hair in small piles on their rubber covered shoulders and on the floor of the training room and Prissy and Chrissy staring in an enforced and deeply horrified silence at two ultra-sissified skinheads!
And by the time that the women free the sissies from the chairs and remove the long pink rubber capes, Prissy is sobbing helplessly into his sponge gag, his cherry red sex rising up before him uncontrollably, his pretty eyes filled with a tormenting mixture of anger, fear, dark desire and the deepest humiliation imaginable. Chrissy, meanwhile, is filled with an even more intense and overwhelming sexual need. Rather than inspire a renewed resistance, the events of the afternoon have only increased his fierce, all pervasive masochistic need. He stares at Debra and moans with an inescapable pleasure. Whatever these women do to him, he will offer only a sweet curtsey bow of absolute acceptance.
The two sissies, whimpering into the fat sponge gags for very different reasons, are then led over to the tall, circular pink container that dominates the training room. Chrissy finds himself looking at his slender, naked form in the long mirror that covers the opposite wall. His shaven head and body reveal a naturally petite sissy, with a particularly shapely bottom. Despite the absurdity of the haircut and his huge red cock, he finds himself admiring both his own delicately feminised form (particularly the new, highly erotic piercings) and that of the even smaller and even more feminine Prissy. Now all he desires is an immediate smothering in pretty feminine undies, sweet, scented hose and the most delicate sissy dresses imaginable.
As Heather and Beverley take more kinky costumes from the wardrobe, Debra, regal and stunningly beautiful, begins to explain the containers bizarre and awful function.
'Bondage and Isolation Therapy is an essential part of the training you will undergo in the coming months. For at least an hour each day, you will be secured tightly together in the BAIT chamber. There will be no sound and no light. You will be in a state of absolute sensory deprivation. You will also be subject to a very high level of sexual stimulation. Along with the sex drugs, your on-going physical alteration and the more psychological elements of your training, BAIT will play a key role in utterly destroying your previous male personality and establishing your new sissy identities. Here you will be prepared for a realm of complete and utter submission. Here you will be truly brainwashed. After just an hour in this devious little box, you will be more obedient and even more helplessly feminine.'
Heather and Beverley, now very much their old, wicked selves, return from the wardrobe laden with two rubber, zippered arm gloves. The sissies arms are quickly forced between their backs and then the skin tight rubber gloves are pulled up them, forcing each arm tightly and very painfully together at the elbows and shoulders and inspiring well gagged cries of significant discomfort. Their slight chests jut forward helplessly, as do their fully tumescent, cherry red cocks.
Yet, perhaps predictably, the restricting and uncomfortable gloves are only the beginning of this latest ultra-kinky bondage ordeal. For as soon as the gloves are secured, the girls produce two pink rubber variations on the nylon body stockings. These fiendish items of fetish wear are, however, more sinister body gloves than stockings, having only one long leg and no arms. Indeed, they are really nothing more than body sacks, and the sissies are soon moaning with girlish trepidation as the girls roll each single stocking up their shapely, silky smooth sissy legs and then proceed to envelope the rest of their tormented bodies in this thin, very tight material.
Like the nylon body stockings, the rubber stockings have strategically placed holes at both the front and the back of the crotch area, and their hard, tormented sexes are soon pulled through the front hole and the rear hole, which is positioned to ensure that the dark space between the buttocks is ready for further bizarre treatment.
Now totally immobilised, the rubberised sissies can only watch with fear and sex teased eyes as Debra pulls back a metal panel to reveal the dark insides of the BAIT chamber. As she does this, their sissy attentions are violently distracted as Heather and Beverley secure new rubber cock restrainers and silver rings to their hard, long suffering sexes. But their concentration is then assured as Debra flicks on an inside light to reveal a most bizarre and frightening interior.
The poor sissies find themselves facing a thin, circular chamber. Emerging from the left and rights sides of the base of the chamber at a forty-five degree angle is what appears to be a long metal pole. Attached to the head of the pole is a long, thin, delicately ribbed pink dildo! Hanging from the roof of the chamber are what appear to be two strange, pink rubber gas masks, similar to the type used in operating theatres. These are attached to clear rubber tubes that disappear up into the roof.
Hard slaps on tightly rubberised behinds from the girls make it clear to the sissies that they must now hop precariously forward to the edge of the chamber. As they do so, their freshly secured sexes bounce absurdly before them and both Debra and the girls cannot resist a whip crack of cruel, mocking laughter. Yet this is only the beginning of their humiliation, for as soon as they are at the edge of the dark, foreboding chamber, it becomes clear that placed on the floor before them are some particularly strange and kinky items of footwear. Initially, it appears that they are facing a pair of thigh length, pink leather boots with terrifying seven-inch heels. But closer inspection reveals each boot to be one double sized boot designed to fit two legs!
The sissies moan fearfully as Heather and Beverley literally pick up and lower a sissy each into the bizarre, terrifying boots. Their rubberised feet slip into the single shoe area and then a fat silver metal zip is pulled up so that the leather fabric closes in on their legs, forcing them tightly together. The leather leg of the boot stretches right up to the lower thighs of each sissy, completely immobilising their legs and leaving them both swaying very precariously on a single, seven inch high, metal reinforced stiletto heel!
They squeal into the fat sponge gags with genuine terror as the girls then load the sissies inside the chamber, the two of them picking up a sissy at a time and placing them him so that his bottom is resting directly over the wicked, sharply curved heads of the dildoes. To their mutual horror, the sissies immediately realise that their feet are not touching the floor. Indeed, the girls have to let the sissies entire body weight fall onto the dildoes before they drop the few inches to the rubber lined floor of the chamber. This means that, as they descend, the dildos force their way between the sissies soft, pink buttocks and into their freshly widened arses.
The poor sissies squeal with a terrible shock and a helpless and deeply intense pleasure as the greased, ribbed dildoes slip inside their arses and begin to fill their anal passages. Then, very suddenly, the evil rubber intruders are deep within them and they are balancing on the single, awful high heel. As they slip into place, it also becomes very clear that they are very close together; indeed, their chests are virtually touching, and so, to their ambivalent horror, are their tightly ringed, rubberised sexes!
Yet this is only the beginning of their most awful test. For as soon as they are positioned in this rigid, yet paradoxically precarious position, the sissies can only watch in utter astonishment and renewed horror as the gorgeous, imperial Debra produces what initially looks like a new, extra large red rubber restrainer, but which is in fact a red rubber sheath that she proceeds very carefully to slide over their sexes, pulling it down teasingly over the hard, long, tortured lengths so that the two cocks are quickly sealed together in one mega-restrainer! This new level of penile restraint is then finally guaranteed by the careful application of three lengths of white silk ribbon, one at the base, one in the middle and one at the top, just beneath the two ringed, bulging heads. Each ribbon is tied in a tight, fat sissy bow, and poor Chrissy and Prissy can only squeal with a furious sex agony into the sponge gags.
Once their cocks have been tied so tightly and intimately together, Beverly and Heather produce two rubber hoods, both matching exactly the colour of the fiendish, utterly immobilising body stockings/sacks. These they quickly stretch over the sissies heads, which inspires much frightened squealing and useless wiggles. Strangely, there is a large open section for the mouth, plus two small air holes for the nose. Despite the flimsy material, the hoods act as very effective sound dampers, and the poor sissies cannot now hear, see or speak. Then, the fat sponge gags are removed by Debra and the two girls quickly replace them with fat rubber balls, attached to which are short lengths of clear rubber tubing. The tubes run all the way through the balls to a tiny funnel that is positioned on the side of the gag that is closest to the sissies throats. Then Debra very carefully pulls down the first mask and slips the tube running from the gag into a hole in the centre of the mask, exactly at the point where the mask's tube connects. A link has thus been made all the way from their mouths, through the masks and up into the ceiling of the BAIT chamber.
The masks are then strapped to the heads of the sissies and carefully positioned so that each mask is tightly covering the mouth area exposed by the rubber hood. The sissies are then ready for the perverse and terrible ordeal of the BAIT chamber.
Debra playfully smacks her son's pert, rubberised bottom and then steps back from the chamber. The girls slide the panel shut, and the sissies are sealed inside in an absolute black silence, their only functioning sense that of feeling, a sense now painfully heightened by the restrictions placed on its sister senses, and also made far more keen by the impact of the wicked sex drug coursing through their sissified bodies. They squeal into the fat, sinister ball gag with a terrible fear and a powerful sexual arousal. As the dildos bore into their back passages, their tightly joined and restrained cocks helplessly caress each other. The pleasure this brings is magnified considerably by the closure of all other sensory channels. Suddenly, they can feel everything with a clarity and depth so intense it is almost unbearable.
Outside the chamber, Debra turns to the girls.
'Now go to Heather's room. Helen and I will be along to prepare you for this evening a little later. When we arrive, you will be naked and standing to attention.'
The girls' eyes widen with fear and anger.
'Unless you want another beating, I suggest you do as I say.'
The girls nod weakly and then walk nervously from the room. Debra watches them with a mixture of contempt and arousal. She pays particular attention to the gorgeous Heather: she will take the deepest, darkest pleasure in training Helen's beautiful, wilful daughter. She knows the girls are very surprised by the latest turn of events: although they are to train the sissies, they are also to be made the lesbian sex slaves of Helen and Debra. But she also knows that they will soon come to appreciate the subtle pleasures of their new bondage.
Inside the chamber, the sissies moan into their gags and fall helplessly into a pit of masochistic sex blackness. Yet even this is not the end to their erotic sufferings. For after about five minutes, a slight vibration passes through the chamber. Then there is a pressure against the gag and, to their horrified surprise, liquid begins to seep very slowly through the gag! What they cannot know is that the liquid is being transmitted from a small glass tank positioned behind the chamber. Driven by an electric motor, it is transported up through the clear rubber pipe, down through the roof of the chamber and into the tube that runs through the centre of the ball gag. What they also do not know, but thanks to the sense of taste slowly come to realise, is that the liquid is urine, the urine of their four wicked mistresses carefully gathered over the last 24 hours! And as this terrible realisation hits home, their squeal with a dreadful horror into the fat gags. They wiggle on the ends of the fiendishly teasing dildoes. They pull helplessly and erotically against each other's rubberised and ringed cocks. Yet even their most intense efforts yield only the slightest moment. They are utterly helpless. Immobilised completely, trapped in an absolute silence and blackness, their only communication the rubbing together of their sexes, they swallow this latest gift, and continue to swallow it for the next 57 minutes. Yet even as they endure this final, awful humiliation, they can only confess a terrible, perverse pleasure. Yes, as they wiggle and moan, as they tease each other, the abyss of absolute sex opens up before them and they dive into it with an intensely masochistic willingness.
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