Mistress Rosemary sent me this report from the HM Schools Inspectorate on Mrs Thwackbottom's School for Naughty Boys. She said I could be sent there if my errors, forgetfulness and naughtiness don't improve soon. I am sure the threat of this consequence will have a positive impact on my behaviour. Regards, sissy karen.
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A follow-up story from Mistress Rosemary's "Life of Dennis" series.
by sissy karen josephine It has been almost a year since Mistress Rosemary entrapped sissy sally and sissy jamieanne at Fairbourne Hall. Since then, there have been significant changes. Only a week before the sissies arrived, Mistress had met with her accountant, Mr Ledger. Mistress learned that Fairbourne Hall was in a very dire financial position. The costs involved in paying the staff and the cost of upkeep were high and there were major repairs like the tiling of the roof that needed to be done. The cash reserves that Grandpa Rolly left for upkeep were dwindling and something had to be done. It seemed Aunt Agatha was not very good when it came to finances and had wasted a lot of money. Unfortunately, some of the paid staff needed to be let go to get costs under control. Luckily Mistress Rosemary was able to keep Frau Bertha and Hank Strongbow in employment. Mistress Rosemary then came up with a wonderful idea that proved to be so successful that she was now regarded as a business genius by many in the village. Her idea was to turn Clive’s old worker’s cottage into a luxury 5-star accommodation for tourists. She decided that the sissies could run it, who of course did not need to be paid, except with food and lodging. This was great for the bottom line. The first job was to get the three sissies to renovate the cottage. It was quite run down and filthy but had the essentials. A small kitchenette, a bathroom with a shower, a small living area with a fireplace and a bedroom. It was a big job, the walls had to be scrubbed and sanded before painting, the outside needed to be painted, the floorboards needed sanding and polishing, the bathroom needed a makeover and the kitchen needed new appliances and a deep clean. The fireplace and chimney also needed cleaning. Structurally the building was fine. There were costs in doing this, but the free labour made it manageable for Mistress Rosemary. Once the cottage was ready, the sissies would then be required to run the cottage. Doing all the serving, cooking, and cleaning that was required. Mistress Rosemary put sissy karen in charge of the other two sissies. The upside for karen was she could delegate a lot of the dirty work to the other two and she was also given the power to award demerits to the other two sissies for any poor performance or disobedience. The demerits were purged at the Sunday punishment hour. The downside for karen was she was ultimately responsible to Mistress for everyone’s work. For example, sissy jamieanne was given the job of getting the kitchen clean and ready for the first guest after the new appliances were installed. She had worked her pretty little butt off, cleaning and polishing every inch of the kitchen. karen was impressed with her job. When Mistress Rosemary came for inspection both jamieanne and karen were all smiles, thinking Mistress would be impressed. However, she opened one of the cupboard doors and ran a finger along the top of the door of the cupboard. There was a patch of dust on her finger! Mistress was furious! “You call this clean? You expect me to welcome guests into this pig sty? How do you think this would reflect on me?” Both the sissies were cowering, hanging their heads in shame. “This isn’t good enough karen!” Karen, panicking, said, “It was jamieanne who was in charge of cleaning the kitchen.” Replied karen, trying to put all the blame on jamieanne. “Well, it is you who is responsible karen, this will be dealt with harshly at Sunday’s punishment hour.” “Yes, Mistress. I beg your forgiveness Mistress and promise it will not happen again.” “It better not karen!” Karen was furious with jamieanne after that and for the next four days until Sunday, she kept awarding jamieanne demerits on top of demerits. Her uniform had a crease, the bow on the back of her apron was not symmetrical, and there was a drop of water on her shoe. Every slightest fault, jamieanne got demerits. If karen was going to be punished, jamieanne was too! Any fair-minded person would say karen went too far but there was no recourse for jamieanne. When punishment day came around both karen and jamieanne were filled with dread. They arrived at Mistress Rosemary’s office at the appointed hour and were made to wait for an agonising 5 minutes. Finally, sissy sally opened the door to the office and let them in. sissy sally quickly moved to the back of the room, keen to keep a low profile, glad she was not facing the music this week. Mistress Rosemary was seated at her desk with Frau Bertha and Hank Strongbow standing on either side of her. She began her tirade. “Do you know why you are here karen?” She spoke in a very firm tone, sending a shiver of fear up all the sissies’ spines. “Yes Mistress, because of the dirt on the kitchen cupboard door.” “Correct karen, and how do you think this reflects on my business?” “Poorly Mistress.” “Poorly! That’s an understatement! It is an absolute disgrace!” Her voice became louder, and karen was filled with nerves. “We are running an exclusive, top-line, 5-star accommodation and dining experience and something like this could ruin it for our guests! Imagine if they complained in the online comments, what damage it could do to my business!” Karen was getting scared; Mistress was sounding very angry. “Yes Mistress, sorry Mistress, it won’t happen again Mistress”. Her tone of voice was apologetic, submissive, and passive. “I am telling you young lady it better not. And to help you remember I am ordering you to get 24 strokes of the tickler.! 24 strokes, karen was horrified. She had only received 6 before and they were agony! She couldn’t sit for days. How was she going to handle 24? “Hank, will do the honours?” Karen thought Hank! No! He is so big and so strong! “Drop your panties and lift up your dress karen!” Karen did as she was told. She was shaking in fear, her knees were knocking together. Hank smiled. An evil smile, he was going to enjoy thrashing this sissy. He was a straight alpha male and a little homophobic if truth be told. He hated the sissies, he thought they were a bunch a fags and treated them like dirt. He put up with them only because it was part of the job. This was a chance to let some of his frustration out. Karen stood there, her panties around her ankles and her dress held up. He could see Frau Bertha looking at his tiny sissy clitty, shaking her head in disgust. Hank picked up the tickler and walked behind karen. The first stroke was a killer, it came down hard across both cheeks and karen screamed to high heaven. “That’s 1.” Said Mistress Rosemary “And if I hear another squeal from you, I will ask Hank to start again.” “Yes Mistress, sorry Mistress,” Karen replied in a weak fragile voice. The next 23 strokes seemed to take a lifetime for karen. It took all her inner resolve not to cry out. Each stroke burned and seared, especially where they overlaid previous strokes. Hank gave her a few strokes on her upper thighs and the pain was even worse. Tears began to stream down her eyes. The punishment was an ordeal and an absolute misery. When it was finally over, karen was sent to the back of the room with sally. She glanced back at Hank and couldn’t help noticing the big bulge in his pants. He was getting aroused delivering the punishment! Mistress Rosemary then spoke, “Right, jamieanne, step up next to Hank.” Jamieanne stepped up. “I see you have 120 demerits to your name. That is shameful! What have you to say for yourself? “Sorry Mistress, I will try better next time.” “You won’t TRY! You WILL do better next time. This is no little sissy game jamieanne, this is a 5-star establishment you are working in. You will need to lift your game, or your life will be a misery. 120 demerits, that deserve 12 strokes of the cane. Hank, will you do the honours?” Karen couldn’t believe it! It was jamieanne stuff up that got them into this mess, and she only gets 12 strokes while karen had to have 24. It wasn’t fair! Hank proceeded to cane jamieanne. After just two strokes, tears were running down her face, spoiling her make-up. Karen was secretly enjoying watching her suffer. The last stroke hit jamieanne on the tops of her thighs and she screamed like a banshee! Mistress awarded her a punishment stroke and the stroke had to be repeated. So, she ended up receiving 14 strokes. Mistress then said, “I think that is it, everyone back to work.” Frau Bertha then said, “Excuse Ma’am but after sally did her baking, she used all the icing sugar and did not report it to me, and I didn’t buy more when I went to the village shopping yesterday. So, we are out of icing sugar. “Sally, step forward!’ Sally sheepishly stepped forward; she had thought she had missed out on this punishment session. “How can you expect us to run a first-rate establishment if we do not know when we need more supplies? That was totally thoughtless sally, something I would expect from an airhead, bimbo sissy, not from you!” “Yes Mistress, sorry Mistress.” Sally was wracking her brain; she was sure there was still plenty of icing sugar after she had finished her baking.” “You will walk into town, fully dressed in your maid’s uniform this afternoon, in your highest heels and buy another packet of icing sugar. You will also put rings on all your fingers and toes. Understand?” “Yes Mistress. “ It was a good one-hour walk to the village, this was going to be murder to do it in heels, she was imagining the blisters already. Funnily when she returned Bertha saw her and told her she found the icing sugar, it hadn’t run out after all! Oh well, it’s too late for sally. Another challenge for karen was Frau Bertha could request sissy labour for help in the household and Hank Strongbow could request sissy labour in the garden whenever they pleased, so karen had to manage that and often found herself having to take up extra chores if the other two were needed elsewhere. It could get quite stressful for karen. Each morning karen would serve breakfast to Frau Bertha and Hank and find out if they needed the sissies for anything. It was rare for a day to pass without some call on the sissies. Karen would then have to rearrange the plans she had made for the sissies. When she tried to explain this was sometimes a challenge to Mistress Rosemary, she was given short shrift. She had to be flexible and learn how to ‘pivot’. Mistress Rosemary had been reading a lot of business books and liked to pass her wisdom on to karen. Mistress Rosemary also liked to give karen sewing and embroidery tasks to add to her workload. A simple off-the-cuff comment like “that apron would look nice with a lace trim.” Could result in 8 hours of hand sewing in what little free time she did get. Karen had learnt not to complain and just suck it up though. Karen was also accountable for the feedback from the guests. All guests were asked to complete a feedback form before they checked out and even a 4 out of 5 score would mean a punishment for karen. So, there was a big incentive for karen to drive her two sissies hard. If she were going to be punished, she would make sure they were punished too. Karen would often take her revenge on the other two sissies if there was a less-than-perfect score from the guest. She could be quite mean in fact. Picking on the slightest flaws in the sissy’s appearance or the slightest mistake in any of their work, that no one would ever notice. There is nothing worse than an underling who is given power above her station and takes to lording it over the others is there? That was karen to a tee. The other two really started to resent karen but there was nothing they could do. Mistress Rosemary did the marketing and took the bookings as well as all the praise for running such a fine establishment. She came up with a brilliant slogan: “Be a Lord or the Lady for the day, at Fairbourne Hall Manor stay.” After she thought of that, she then came up with the feature that would set her manor stay apart from any other accommodation in the country. Each guest was given their own personal maid, on-call 24/7 for the duration of their stay. The sissy would be on call and do the guests bidding, it could be fetching food or drinks, laundry, ironing, a foot massage, or whatever the guest wanted. Mistress Rosemary even started a little ceremony when a guest checked in. Their allocated sissy maid kneels before the guest, Mistress clips a pager onto the sissy’s collar. The guest is given the remote control and they test the pager, hearing the beep that goes off in the sissy’s ear when they are paged. When the sissy hears the pager beep, they must drop everything and attend to the guest. Mistress even gets a report automatically of the time taken for the sissy to attend. Every sissy has a Key Performance Indicator of reporting within 1 minute of receiving a page or else! If there was a female guest, Mistress Rosemary would reassure the lady that the sissy was not only forbidden but unable to do anything inappropriate because her personal sissy maid would be locked in a chastity device for the duration of the guest’s stay. Mistress Rosemary included the locking of the chastity device as part of the welcome ceremony at the beginning of each guest’s stay. All the sissies would feel so embarrassed at this event and hated it, having to display their tiny sissy clitty’s to the women and see them get locked into chastity. They could do nothing about it though, they had no choice but to obey. Meanwhile business absolutely flourished. It was a huge success and after only one month of operation, bookings were flooding in, and many guests were booking to come again. Mistress Rosemary was now running Fairbourne Hall at a nice profit and not needing to touch Grandpa Rolly’s account that was set aside for upkeep. She increased the prices and received even more bookings! Mistress Rosemary was able to pay for the new roof on Fairbourne Hall without touching the maintenance fund. It was an amazing success. For the sissies though it was busy busy busy. There was so much to do! Sally was a very accomplished cook; her baking was superb. Cakes, biscuits, and other delicious treats were her specialty. Of course, karen never let her taste any of her own creations, but it was not unknown for her to pinch a biscuit or two. The sissies’ meals were very bland. Mistress’s instructions were no spices or seasonings, the food must be cheap and healthy. The sissies’ only drink was water. Bland unseasoned lentil soup was their most common meal, with a grapefruit for vitamin C. All their clothing had to come from the church’s charity store, so they were very cheap to maintain. Mistress Rosemary could now afford to go to the hairdressing salon where she used to work and have her hair done weekly now. Oh, how she loved to skite about her sissy success story of a business to the girls in the salon! By Mistress Rosemary Previous Chapters: 1&2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12,13, 14 An invitation to all sissies If any sissy reader happens to find herself around Fairbourne Hall, please feel free to drop in and visit us; you will always find a warm welcome here. We could sit in the drawing room or out on the lawn and Sissy Karen would be delighted to serve us a pot of tea and a slice of her delicious Victoria sponge cake. The only stipulation is that you arrive in proper sissy clothes. Some acceptable examples are shown below. Postscript from Mistress Rosemary After reading about the above invitation, two sissies did in fact present themselves at Fairbourne Hall on the very same day, requesting, very innocently, to be allowed to partake of a pot of tea together with Mistress Rosemary and Sissy Karen. Sissy Jamieanne looked lovely in her black and white maid’s uniform with pretty petticoats, cute apron, black tights, low black heels and red lipstick. Sissy Sally looked stunning in a gorgeous pale lilac flared dress with lots of lace and bows, pale pink satin shoes and a wonderful bonnet. SIssy Jamieanne Sissy Sally Oh, what silly sissies! Frau Bertha von Liechtenstein was sent to the gatehouse to receive the two sissies, smiling pleasantly and inviting them to accompany her to the Hall. Mistress Rosemary was already waiting for them outside the front door and wished them a warm welcome to the Hall. “Oh, what beautiful dresses you’re both are wearing, my darlings!” she exclaimed “You look so delicate and pretty. Jamieanne, you look as if you want to work here.” she joked. “How lovely that you’ve come all the way from the American Mid-West to visit us. And Sally dearest, I hear that you have come from Europe, just to visit us! How sweet. You both must be very tired; Sissy Karen will take you both to the visitor’s powder room to freshen up your makeup, then we’ll go outside for tea; it’s a lovely sunny day.” she exclaimed brightly. Sally had a gift-wrapped cardboard box in her arms, and she presented it to Mistress Rosemary, “This is little gift that I brought all the way from my home; I baked it myself.” she said shyly, dropping her gaze and blushing deeply. “How kind of you, Sally dear. Thank you very much.” Sissy Karen showed them upstairs to the powder room and waited outside. The horrible fact is that Sissy Karen was burning with jealousy. “These two hussies think they can come here into the Hall and put me in the shade with their antsy fancy costumes.” she fumed inside. “Ready, sissies?” asked Karen when they came out, giving them a false smile, “Then let’s go outside and I’ll serve everyone a nice pot of tea.” Mistress Rosemary was already sitting in a cane chair in the summerhouse which overlooked the lawn and flowerbeds. A small table was set with cups, saucers, plates, the best silverware and a vase of freshly cut flowers from the flowerbeds. Hank Strongbow politely helped Jamieanne and Sally into their chairs. What a delightful garden you have, Mistress Rosemary” said Sissy Sally, then not to be outdone, Sissy Jamieanne said “I just adore your dress, Mistress Rosemary.” It was a lovely summer day in Devonshire – the flower beds were ablaze with delphiniums, anemones, peonies, and phlox. It was a perfect time to enjoy teatime. Mistress Rosemary had opened the gift box – it contained the most wonderful Austrian Sacher Torte – a moist chocolate sponge filled with a fine layer of apricot jam, smothered in a smooth chocolate glaze. Next to it was Sissy Karen’s Victoria sponge cake. Sissy Sally's Sachar Torte Sissy Karen's Victoria Sponge Mistress Rosemary offered each person a slice of cake, and Sissy Karen was incensed inside when everyone asked for the Sucher Torte, leaving the Victoria sponge cake untouched. Sissy Karen had begun to loathe Sissy Sally. Each person was served, and just as Sissy Sally was about to taste her Sucher Torte, Hank strode forward and snapped shut an electric shock collar on both Sissy Sally’s and Sissy Jamieanne’s necks. The two sissies squealed in shock and horror, leaping up, tipping their Sucher Torte on the floor and upsetting their tea all over the table. Sissy Karen grinned. Mistress Rosemary stood up, crossed her arms, and sternly declared “You two silly little girls didn’t think you could come into the Hall as if you were my equals, did you? Sissy Karen has earned her retirement after years of faithful service, and anyway, she’s now a professional ballerina and doesn’t have time for household chores. As of this moment you will both report to her and address her respectfully as Mistress Karen. Each of you will now be a Novice Maid at Fairbourne Hall. Attempting to leave the Hall will automatically give you an electric shock that will knock you off your feet.” Sissy Karen – now Mistress Karen - dragged the two sissies by their ears and pulled them off to the Box Room. “There’s only one bed but that won’t be a problem,” she snapped “Jamieanne will sleep from midnight to 5am, and Sally will sleep from 7pm to midnight…seven days a week! You’ll both report to me at 6am sharp in the servants’ kitchen tomorrow, dressed in the maids’ uniforms that you’ll find in your room.” Sissy Jamieanne was sobbing uncontrollably – she was a wreck. Her world had been shattered. “But, but, but you can’t…” protested Sally, “this can’t be happening.” “Oh yes I can, young lady!” snapped back Mistress Karen “and for that impertinent remark, you’ll receive 10 stripes of The Tickler next Sunday! Oh, and by the way, Punishment Hour is from 11am to noon every Sunday. Don’t be late.” Both Jamieanne and Sally protested, shouting “This can’t be true; we only wanted a cup of tea. Don’t do this…you can’t…you can’t.” but Mistress Karen had had enough of their nonsense – she pressed the SHOCK button on each remote control. Both Sissy Jamieanne and Sissy Sally shrieked in pain, grasping their shock collars, and falling to the floor, writhing and attempting unsuccessfully to wrench the collars off. “If I hear another complaint from either of you two silly sissies, I’ll notch it up to TOP shock power! Do you understand me, sissies?” “Yes, yes, yes, Mistress Karen” they both screeched back, tears streaming down their cheeks, ruining their mascara, “Forgive us, forgive us, Mistress Karen; we beg your forgiveness, Mistress.” “Are you going to obey me without question?” Karen asked curtly. “Yes, yes, Mistress Karen. We will obey.” Reality had slapped Sissy Sally and Sissy Jamieanne in the face very hard. Their lives were about to change. A lot. 100 hundred years later It was in the rein of Charles III that the aforesaid personages lived and quarreled; good or bad, handsome or ugly, rich or poor, they are all equal now. (Adapted from the last part of the final scene of Barry Lyndon, directed by Stanley Kubrick) Cast of characters in order of appearance
How to solve a 4x4 Magic Square https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rd7Okbka71I Swan Lake by Tchaikovsky The Dying Swan: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJ4uowripdw Rosemary Church and Christiane Amanpour are well known and respected newscasters who appear regularly on CNN, and they have been parodied in a lighthearted, humorous vein. Christina Rossetti, Bindi Irwin, Steve Irwin, Marie Antoinette, King Charles III and Stanley Kubrick are/were real people and have been included solely to add literary background and colour to the story. Sissy Karen, Sissy Sally and Sissy Jamieanne are real sissies and are all alive and well, working very hard at their never-ending drudgery under the strict control of their respective Mistresses. Except for the abovenamed people - Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Liberal use has been made of pictures and photos in the public domain and are to be found on the Internet. Subtitles and descriptions have been changed to adapt to this story. The author gratefully acknowledges the use of the term The Tickler, shamefully plagiarized from Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. The author does not approve of, or advocate any type of physical, mental, emotional, or psychological punishment or torture. The author is an animal lover and detests all forms of cruelty to animals. The author wishes to thank Sissy Karen Josephine for her gracious permission to publish this story on her website. Without her constant support and suggestions, this work would not have been possible. By Mistress Rosemary Previous Chapters: 1&2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12,13, Sissy Karen Blossoms The 3rd of September was Mistress’s birthday and she decided to invite some friends to dinner at the Hall. Careful instructions were given to Lucy Harper, the cook, and to Sissy Karen who would be welcoming the guests and serving table. Mistress thought it would be a nice touch to send Hank in the Bentley to pick up the guests from the village; in that way the guests could partake of alcoholic beverages without running the risk of breaking the law. The Bentley glided up to the Hall, and Hank, dressed in his chauffeur’s uniform, jumped out to open the car for the visitors. They strode up to the entrance and knocked on the old oak door. Sissy Karen opened the door to Piers Higginbottom, Peregrine Sneed, the Reverend Ashley Bonham Hart and Doctor Bertram Coffin. She curtsied deeply to each gentleman in turn and wished them a very good evening. The gentlemen were stunned – Sissy looked magnificent in the most wonderful pink satin dress with many flouncy frilly petticoats that made the dress flare out. It was adorned with a white bodice and edged in lace. The puffy short sleeves had little white bows. She was wearing nude tights and 2” heeled pumps. That very afternoon Mistress Rosemary had taken her to the hair salon in the village to have her hair done – she looked gorgeous. Her hair was dyed a lovely warm chestnut colour and it framed her face beautifully. S is Peregrine Sneed couldn’t contain himself and remarked “Karen, you look lovely this evening, my dear. That dress shows off your legs nicely. Turn around for us, my dear.” Sissy blushed and made another curtsy, replying “Thank you, Sir. My mistress bought it for me. I love it.” She turned around slowly while the gentlemen admired the view. All eyes were on Karen, and as the gentlemen were being ushered into the drawing room, the Reverend Ashley Bonham Hart surreptitiously slipping his hand up under the back of her frills and patting her derriere, said “Karen dear, you must come and visit me at the rectory one evening when you are free.” Sissy showed them into the drawing room where Mistress Rosemary was waiting in a gown that had belonged to her grandmother, Lady Sarah Warwick. She looked gorgeous in a splendid flared golden gown in the Marie Antoinette style. She wore a pair of Lady Sarah’s pendent diamond earrings. The gentlemen were stunned by her great beauty and courteously kissed the back of her outstretched hand. Mistress Rosemary in her evening gown They were ushered into the drawing room and Doctor Coffin hurried to hold the chair for Rosemary as she sat. “It’s so kind of you all to come, gentlemen. Please be seated. Sissy, serve the gentlemen a drink.” The Reverend Ashley Bonham Hart didn’t know who looked better, Sissy or Mistress Rosemary. Perhaps Sissy, he thought to himself. Sissy served each gentleman a generous splash of Bowmore Darkest 15-year-old whisky from a cut glass decanter, and then in turn, each gentleman stood and presented Mistress Rosemary with her birthday gifts. Piers Higginbottom had brought a beautifully wrapped bottle of Amouage Honour 43 Exception Extrait perfume. Peregrine Sneed gave a little box containing a pair of Galanterie de Cartier, diamond and gold earrings. The Reverend Ashley Bonham Hart presented her with a leather bound, 1807 copy of Captain Cook’s Voyages Around the World. (The flyleaf was stamped with the words “Property of the University of Cambridge, Philosophy Department. Not to be Removed.” but Rosemary graciously chose to ignore it). Doctor Bertram Coffin presented her with a wonderful Tarkov vase, hand-painted in deep blue and gold. Polite conversation was made until dinner time, then at Mistress Rosemary’s request they all adjourned to the main dining room precisely at 9 pm where Sissy served dinner: Piping hot French onion soup with melted cheese and croutons, followed by a steaming steak and kidney pie with roast potatoes, fresh carrots, peas and gravy, and finally a trifle topped with whipped cream. Mistress had chosen a fine bottle of Brunello di Montalcino DOCG to accompany the meal. “Sissy, give my regards to Lucy and tell her the dinner was excellent.” instructed Mistress Rosemary to the maid. “Yes, Mistress. At once Madam.” “Shall we all adjourn to the drawing room, gentlemen,” invited Mistress Rosemary, “I have a little something special for your entertainment.” The gentlemen were seated in their armchairs nursing their cognacs. Seeing that Sissy had returned from the kitchen, Mistress called Sissy back into the room. “My dear friends, in appreciation of our warm friendship over the years, we have a little recital for you, don’t we, Karen, dear?” “Yes, Mistress Rosemary.” answered Sissy nervously as she went to stand in the middle of the room. She stood demurely for a few seconds, then curtsied and announced in a shy voice “Little Girls by Karen Barnes.” “Wonderful! The same pretty name as you.” Piped up Doctor Coffin. Sissy licked her lips nervously, curtsied once more and began in a sweet effeminate voice: “Little girls are made of daisies and butterflies and soft kitty cat purrs And all the precious memories of times that once were. Little girls are made of angel’s wings and giggles and a firefly’s glow And all the happy feelings, deep inside, that we all know. Little girls are made of cinnamon and bubbles and fancy white pearls And snowflakes and rainbows and ballerina twirls. Little girls are made of sunshine and cupcakes and fresh morning dew. And these are the reasons, little one, that everyone loves you.” She curtsied once more, blushed and smiled. Everyone clapped heartily – she was so sweet. “Lovely, lovely, Karen dear.” complimented Piers Higginbottom. Mistress told the gentlemen that Karen had another short poem to finish with. Karen was overjoyed that the audience was so pleased with her poems, and she started again: “Read me a story Tuck me in tight Say a sweet prayer And kiss me goodnight.” The gentlemen stood in appreciation and applauded even more. “Come, come, dear,” uttered the vicar, “Come and receive a congratulatory hug.” Karen moved over to the men, smiling happily as each gentleman gave her a little hug…in fact the vicar held the hug for a little more than the others and even gave her peck on the cheek. Mistress broke the spell, instructing “Sissy, bring our coffees, then before retiring for the night, please clear the table, wash and dry the dishes, put the crockery away, polish the silverware and vacuum the carpets. I’ll have breakfast at eight sharp.” When it was time to leave, the gentlemen all walked out to the front door, where each man was delighted to receive a kiss on the cheek from Mistress Rosemary. Hanging back in the dining room, the vicar, whispered in Sissy’s ear “Remember to come to rectory next week to discuss the choral practice – shall we say Wednesday at 8 pm?” “Yes, Reverend. Wednesday at 8 pm,” she replied meekly, “I’ll look forward to it.” She curtsied again. In contrast to Aunt Agatha, Mistress Rosemary was a benign Mistress. Unlike Priscilla who had to work a punishing one-hundred-hour week, Mistress Rosemary reduced Sissy’s hours to a very liberal 90 hours (6 am to 8 pm, six days a week, plus 6 hours on Sunday) – times were changing, and long hours were now considered unduly harsh. Mistress Rosemary was also aware that if maids had too much time on their hands, they were wont to lay in bed touching themselves. Sissy Karen cleaning at Fairbourne Hall Additionally, Mistress took great care to improve Sissy’s culture; she sent Sissy to classes to learn flower arrangement, poetry reading, sewing, dress making, knitting, cooking, crochet and water colour painting, and also enrolled Sissy in the vicar’s Choral Classes for Christian Women at the church. Mistress informed Sissy that she was going to send her to embroidery classes, but Sissy protested, whining that she had poor motor skills and had little time for additional classes. It was a great affront to Mistress Rosemary but, against her better judgement, she gave in to Sissy’s wishes. However, with the passing of time, Sissy realized that Mistress always knew best, so she commenced the embroidery classes and enjoyed them. When Christmas came around the vicar organised a nativity play in the church hall where many parents attended. Children and young teenagers were roped in and dressed up as Joseph, dressed in an old bedspread, and the Three Wise Men with their false beards and cardboard crowns. There was a thatched hut with a manger and model animals eating from it. It was indeed beautiful, but the star player was Sissy Karen who had been elected to play the part of The Virgin Mary. The vicar helped her get dressed in a lovely blue robe and lacy blouse that had been lent by a kind parishioner, a pale blue shawl, and a China doll to represent the baby Jesus. She looked so sweet. Sissy Karen as The Virgin Mary Just before Christmas 2030, Mistress Rosemary summoned Sissy Karen to the drawing room. “Sissy, Mistress was very distressed with your rebelliousness concerning the embroidery classes, however, I am prepared to overlook this matter for the time being, seeing that it’s the season of goodwill to all men…and women.” she added pointedly. “I’m going to give you a surprise Christmas present,” she said excitedly, “do you want to know what it is?” “Oh, yes, Mistress!” Sissy squealed with emotion. “Well, here it is, dear. Happy Christmas, Sissy!” and with that Mistress gave her a little envelope. Sissy was sure that it was money – maybe it was one pound, or even two; she opened the envelope and pulled out a card: DanSci School of Dance, training Devon’s dancers. Exeter Receipt for 52 weeks of Ballet Classes. Sissy was overwhelmed with emotion. Ballet classes! She’d always wanted to dance ballet. She clapped her hands together in glee. “That’s wonderful, Mistress. Just what I always dreamed of! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” This was so exciting. Mistress was happy just to see Sissy’s emotional response, so they agreed to go out the very next day and buy her ballet clothes and shoes. Unfortunately, ballet clothes seemed to be difficult to find in Devon, but Mistress found some lovely outfits online and ordered then straight away. She selected a lovely pure white outfit with fur around the bust cups, embroidered bodice, and a glorious, flared tutu. She also ordered white tights and a pair of beautiful ivory-coloured women’s ballet shoes with satin ribbons that tied up around the ankles. The tutu even came with a pair of delicate wrist coverings in white lace. Sissy couldn’t sleep that night, thinking of the ballet classes, the beautiful outfit and shoes that Mistress had ordered for her – she was going to look gorgeous! Sissy in her ballet clothes and with her shoes When the items arrived, Mistress gave them to Sissy who dashed off to try them on, returning to show them off. Mistress agreed that she looked delicate and beautiful – a real young lady. Mistress took Sissy to her classes five times a week and she soon learned the five basic positions and arm postures: Sissy Karen at her ballet classes Mistress was very impressed with how Sissy became so flexible and supple, adopting the various postures and movements with ease. Over the coming months all the ballet teachers marveled how Sissy could pirouette and skip with grace and elegance. Sissy studied choreography and attended recitals. She practiced for many hours and learned pilé, fouetté, chasse, pirouette, pointe, and many other moves – she was a born ballerina. Sissy had always maintained her slim figure, so the feminine ballet clothes fitted her wonderfully. It didn’t take many more months before a talent scout from the Royal Ballet School in London noticed Sissy, and she was offered a 100% scholarship. With much regret Mistress recognized that Sissy was indeed very talented and didn’t wish to stand in her way. She bequeathed Sissy the 10 million pounds immediately and released her from her duties and obligations under the agreement. The 14th of April 2035 Mistress Rosemary invited Piers Higginbottom, Peregrine Sneed, the Reverend Ashley Bonham Hart and Doctor Bertram Coffin to a wonderful all-paid trip to New York where they were all enthralled to see Sissy Karen play the lead role as Princess Odette in Swan Lake at the David H. Koch Theater. Advertisement for the performance Sissy looked so beautiful; she glided around and seemed to swim on the lake that was the stage - pirouetting and making graceful moves in unison with the other ballerinas. It was pure magic! When at last, Princess Odette played the final scene, performing the poignant dying swan, the Reverend Ashley Bonham Hart couldn’t hold back any longer and wept profusely. When the performance finished there were seven curtain calls, with a thundering standing ovation and shouts of Encore! Encore! Encore! Sissy was presented with a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and she made a deep bow to the audience as the final curtain came down. Mistress Rosemary was so proud. Epilogue THE END By Mistress Rosemary Previous Chapters: 1&2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 12 Karen has a romantic evening Mistress Rosemary was tickled pink to learn that young Jack had invited Sissy Karen to the village dance and happily granted permission. “I’ve known young Jack Longstaff since he was a boy. I know of his parents as well; they own a farm up near Handy Cross. He seems a nice young chap and I’m sure you’ll enjoy the dance, but I’m responsible for your safekeeping, so Hank will drive you both there. He can wait in the car and bring you home again, but you must be home here by midnight, dear.” “Thank you very much, Mistress. Thank you. I’m looking forward to it so much.” Sissy Karen was so excited to be going to a dance with such a handsome young man. “But you don’t have anything pretty to wear, Sissy; we’ll have to get you a nice dress. I’ll look for one online.” There were so many lovely dresses to choose from but finally Mistress Rosemary showed one of them to sissy; it was a beautiful flared yellow dress with a discreet neckline and puffy sleeves. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Miss! I adore it! Please, please, please will you buy it for me?” “Yes, sissy, I will; and what’s more, on Saturday morning I’ll have a ladies hairdresser come to Hall to cut, wash and arrange a pretty hairdo just like in the picture. I’m sure you’ll want to look your best for Jack.” Sissy Karen in her new yellow dancing dress. Notice was left at the gatehouse for Jack advising him that permission had been granted and instructing him to present himself at the Hall gates at 7pm on Saturday so that the couple could be taken to the dance in the Bentley. Saturday came around and Jack arrived early at the gatehouse where both Mistress Rosemary and Sissy Karen were waiting. Sissy looked as pretty as a picture and she was very excited. Mistress greeted Jack cordially and informed him that there was a midnight curfew for Karen. “Don’t worry, Mistress Rosemary. I’ll take great care of Karen and we’ll be back before midnight. Once again, thank you for granting permission.” Hank opened the door of the Bentley for the giggling couple, who sat hand in hand close to each other in the back seat; Hank drove to the church hall, dropped them off, then went off to park in a dark corner of the adjacent carpark where he could doze until 11:45pm. The church hall was open, and all the lights were on; the vicar, dressed casually in a pair of black slacks, a black shirt and a dog’s collar was waiting at the door to welcome all the youngsters. The Reverend Ashley Bonham Hart “My word, Karen; don’t you look pretty in that lovely dress! Later, you must let me have a dance with you; if your beau will accept, of course.” he chuckled. Jack felt obliged to agree even though his plan was to keep Karen strictly to himself all evening. Karen smiled demurely and said she’d love to. The vicar welcomed everyone and hoped they would all have “a splendid evening of good old fashioned clean fun”. They were all youngsters and teenagers except for Karen, who looked years younger than her true age, and combined with her pretty dress, attractive hairdo and shapely legs, became the centre of attention for several of the young men. She was a beautiful, perfumed flower in full bloom, and she attracted the hummingbirds. Jack felt rather annoyed that his friends were homing in on his date so in front of all of them, he slipped his arm around Karen’s waist and declared half-jokingly but half seriously “You fellows can keep away from her; Karen is my new girlfriend.” And with that he tuned to her and kissed her right on the lips. What on earth have I got myself into? thought Karen, blushing and smiling weakly, I think I may have bitten off more than I can chew. Little did she know that she was indeed in over her head, but she brushed it off lightly as the vicar, who was acting as the DJ, started the music. It was music that was popular when he was young: The Osmonds, The Bee Gees, Olivia Newton-John, Michael Jackson and Abba, but the youngsters took it all in their stride and danced The Twist and other ancient dances until they were sweating. Jack was quite a good dancer and danced rock and roll with Karen who happily swung around causing her dress to flare out and show her shapely thighs. They made a lovely couple. More fast dances, while the vicar slyly sipped on some home-made elderberry wine that a kind parishioner had given him recently. It was surprisingly good, and he had another glass, then another. The youngsters then shouted out that they wanted slower music so the vicar, his speech slurring a little, agreed and played I Honestly Love You, Just the Way You Are, Kissing a Fool and other slow oldies. Jack pulled Karen closer to him, holding her tight and shuffled around the room slowly while the vicar, at popular request, dimmed the lights. As a special treat, Mistress Rosemary had sprayed Karen with a little of her best perfume and she smelled delicious. “I love your perfume, Karen” whispered Jack, inhaling deeply. The vicar, a little confused and fuzzy, pressed the wrong buttons while trying to start the next tune; he was finding out that homemade wine is not to be shrugged off as sugar water. A young man helped the vicar sit down and helpfully put another glass of wine in his hand. The vicar thought to himself that it might be a good idea to close his eyes for a couple of minutes to ease the dizziness. The youngster turned off the lights completely, started some very slow sexy music and went to join his girl. In the darkness, Jack slipped both hands around Karen’s waist and whispered in her ear “Will you be my girl?” What could she say? Say no, and ruin the evening and risk Jack taking her home early, to be questioned by Mistress Rosemary, or agree? She had to admit to herself that he was very handsome, and her hormones had reawakened, surging throughout her body. Was she a He or a She, she wondered? She had a male body but somehow these months of domination, dressing in girl’s clothes and being taught to be docile and feminine had changed her desires. She felt strangely attracted to Jack and really did want to be his girl, to love him, to kiss him and to caress his body. Jack’s hands slipped down and gently grasped Karen’s rump, massaging and pushing her body against his, until at last Karen whispered “Yes.” Is that his hard penis pressing against my stomach? Karen thought to herself. Of course, it must be. She wriggled a little, responding to his clenching hands, and the wriggling exciting him even more. In the darkness, Karen slipped her hand between their bodies and touched his rock-hard cock. “Yes, I want to be your girl.” Jack couldn’t believe his luck; Karen was clearly a lot older than him and was surely no virgin. She must know a lot of tricks and he wanted to learn them…now…this very minute. He couldn’t wait. “Karen sweety, let’s go somewhere where we can be alone.” “Yes” she whispered coyly, “let’s go now the lights are off.” Slipping out the back door, hand in hand, Jack led her between the gravestones to St Michael’s church and tried the main door, which luckily was unlocked; they tip toed inside, crept along the aisle and into the vestry where the glint of streetlights shone faintly through the stained-glass windows. Finding some old clothes and gowns that had been left over from last year’s Nativity play, Jack laid them on the floor and pulled Karen down beside him and embraced her. His hands stroked her body over the top of her yellow dress, as she rolled over and sat atop of him with a gleam in her eye; reaching up, he lovingly caressed her breasts over her dress, murmuring “You have delicious breasts, my love; I adore them.” “They’re all yours to enjoy, my darling.” she responded. If the truth be known, they were silicone breast forms that Karen had received from China just two weeks previously. Jack slipped his hands up under her dress, stroking her silky panties, grasping her firm round bottom once more - clenching and kneading. They were both breathing heavily as Karen bent over and started giving him long passionate kisses; Jack responded with something that he’d only read about – he pushed his tongue into her mouth and swirled it around. Karen responded eagerly and reached down to his crotch. Since leaving the church hall his cock had lost its urgent hardness but now it sprang to life again under Karen’s touch; she unzipped his jeans, slipped her hand inside and felt his manhood – he was stiff. He stroked her thighs and gradually moved his hands higher and higher. “I want you, Karen dear, I can’t wait to be inside you.” Karen panicked. She wanted sex but knew it was physically impossible. “I can’t in these days” was all she could think of “but I’m going to give you a good time, darling.” And with that, she pulled down his jeans and boxers and began to run her fingers lightly up and down his erect prick. The glow from the window showed off Jack’s wonderful organ – long and red with veins running down the sides. Karen thought to herself that his fine organ suited his surname aptly – Longstaff. She cupped his balls in one hand and sent shock waves running throughout his body as she first licked up and down the sides of his cock causing it to jerk uncontrollably. She loved to see it move sharply as if it had a life of its own. “Oh Karen, that’s incredible” he muttered through clenched teeth. Saint Michael the Archangel gazed down serenely upon them from the medieval window glass. It wasn’t the first time that he’d seen illicit love scenes in his church, but he’d never seen one quite like this. St Michael was a little surprised But Karen was just beginning - she enveloped his manhood in her mouth, moving up and down slowly, taking it deeply until she almost gagged. This lady is really teaching me something new, he thought between long sighs of pleasure “Don’t stop, Karen darling; this is wonderful.” His prick was throbbing, and Karen loved the feeling of control – she knew that at that moment he would do anything for her. Being so starved of sex for so long, Karen was enjoying the intimacy and the feeling of a throbbing penis in her mouth. It seemed that the slower she moved her mouth up and down, the more excited Jack became. She swirled her tongue around the bulbous head of his prick on every backstroke. Jack gasped; he couldn’t hold back any longer; he held her head firmly against his groin and erupted into her mouth, shooting great squirts of his nectar deep into her throat – one, two, three - then as his balls began to empty, his subsiding spasms pulsed the last of his semen into her already full mouth. With one big gulp she swallowed all his warm juice and then licked her lips. He fell back exhausted and spent, closing his eyes and sighing deeply as his thumping heart gradually slowed down. He felt like a king. Karen was still very excited, and in desperation she kicked her pumps off, sat back, slipped her panties down and knelt up in front of Jack’s face, lifted the hem of her dress, and pushed her erect organ right up in front of Jack’s closed eyes. “Surprise, surprise, Jack darling!” she giggled. Jack dreamily opened his eyes then opened them wide in amazement and shock. Shock and Awe could only describe his reaction. “What the hell” he uttered sharply” you’re not a girl…” He tried to wriggle out from under her, but she was in the throes of lust and kept him under her body, gripping him with her knees and grasping his arms tightly. “You’ve had your fun, sweety,” she said directly, “now it’s my turn.” “No, no, no…I couldn’t. I won’t.” “Oh yes, you will, my love, because if you don’t, I’ll scream and scream and scream and say you tried to rape me…my darling.” Jack stared at her big prick in amazement as the awful truth began to sink in. “Sit up and suck me nicely now. I want to cum in your mouth as well.” Jack was petrified at the thought of being caught with Karen while she screamed. Everyone in the church hall would run in and find them and he’d be hauled off to the local police station and probably sent off to Exeter jail – his life ruined. “But I can’t…you’re a man…I can’t…I won’t...” “Right then! Here come the screams: one, two...” “No, no, no! Wait! Don’t! Give me a minute.” “No waiting, darling! After all, we’re almost engaged now, aren’t we, my precious. Open up right now.” Karen ordered. Poor Jack was between a rock and a hard place (Dear readers, please forgive the bad pun!); sitting up slowly he looked at her great cock with trepidation. “That’s it, sweetheart! Now open up for your treat” she said sarcastically. There was no escaping and Jack opened his mouth just a little. Karen gripped her urgent cock and brushed it back and forth along his lips then started to slide it inside his unwilling mouth. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Jack darling” she cried “Slide your mouth up and down as I showed you, my love, and swirl your tongue around the head.” Jack couldn’t believe what he was doing. Never in his wildest dreams…or nightmares, had he imagined that he’d suck a cock. Karen took his hand and guided to her tight balls, telling him to caress them. “Yes, yes, Jack my precious, that’s it, that’s it; you do it so well. I can see you’ve done this before.” Jack was unable deny that awful accusation as his mouth was completely full…of Karen’s cock. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, keep going, that’s it, yes, yes, yes…I’m coming…” And with that, Karen let out a cry of extasy and spurted deep inside his mouth, time and time again. “Jack, Jack, Jack, I love you. I adore you! Swallow all my love juice, darling. It’s all for you.” Jack gagged but Karen demanded sharply “I swallowed yours, now you’ll swallow mine.” And with a couple of gulps Karen’s seed disappeared down Jack’s unwilling throat. Karen fell back sated and happy; Jack was such a delicious lover and she’d needed that so much. They lay there for quite some time – Karen almost in a dream; calm and satisfied, while Jack looked shell-shocked, staring up at the Gothic ceiling arches with his eyes wide open. He was aghast at what he’d just done. At last Karen stood up, pulled on her panties, smoothed her dress down and complimented him “Jack, my love, you’re a fantastic cock sucker. You’re an expert, my darling.” Jack had certainly learned some new tricks that night. Jack and Karen left the vicarage and went to wake up Hank who drove them back to the Hall. They sat apart in total silence. Jack never spoke to Karen again, avoiding her like the plague whenever he saw her in the village. Men can be so selfish. Once they’ve conquered a girl, they lose all interest. Chapter 14 By Mistress Rosemary Previous Chapters: 1&2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 Kevin Buckles Under Kevin arrived at the front gates of Fairbourne Hall dressed in masculine clothes; he showed his passport to the gatekeeper to prove that he was indeed Kevin St John Peters, and asked if he could meet the owner of the Hall. The gatekeeper called Frau Bertha on the intercom, who, after consulting with Mistress Rosemary, soon arrived at the gates on foot and escorted Kevin along the long tree lined driveway where he recalled the happy rides on his pony so many years ago. Kevin was ushered into the drawing room and informed that Mistress Rosemary would join him shortly. “Who was Mistress Rosemary?” he wondered. Mistress Rosemary entered the room and walked over to Kevin, smiled, and gave him a warm embrace. “Hello Kevin.” she murmured. Kevin was surprised at being hugged by an unknown elegantly dressed lady in a formal setting. Who on earth was she? As they broke free, Mistress Rosemary stepped back and gazed at Kevin – “It’s wonderful to see you again after so long,” she exclaimed, “Welcome home.” Kevin looked carefully at Mistress Rosemary for a few seconds and slowly the truth began to sink in – it was Dennis! What a transformation! From a delicate young man to a pretty maid at the courthouse, and now to a refined Lady of the Hall, dressed in fine clothes. They sat on the Louis XV velvet sofa and chatted, relating their life stories; Nancy served them tea and cucumber sandwiches. It was now getting late and Kevin, still jetlagged, was tired. Mistress Rosemary noticed his stifled yawns and insisted that he stay. “This is also your home, Kevin. You may stay as long as you wish.” Nancy was summoned and Kevin was shown to the Blue Room. He still hadn’t broached the true reason for his visit. Kevin awoke early, shaved, showered and dressed. Having much experience in these matters, he noticed that the room was a little dusty, so he hunted out Nancy and borrowed some cleaning utensils from her, returning to give his room a thorough cleaning. He returned the items to Nancy and saw that she was about to take Mistress Rosemary her breakfast in bed as usual. Kevin insisted that he would take it to her. He tapped on the bedroom door and waited until he heard “Enter.” Mistress was sitting in bed dressed in her black silk pajamas. “How thoughtful of you Kevin; please set it on the bed. If you’d care to wait outside the room, I’ll let you know when you can retrieve the tray.” Mistress Rosemary was more than happy to welcome Kevin into the Hall, but he would have to learn that she was Mistress of the Hall, while he was a poor sheep farmer from the outback. Kevin quickly grasped the new relationship and hoping to receive at least some of the family wealth, accepted the situation and even embraced it. Days passed and Kevin, wanting to create a good impression with Rosemary, started to help Nancy with the chores – sweeping, mopping, doing the washing up, and taking Mistress her breakfast in bed every morning. He would tap on the door, wait to be allowed to enter, serve Mistress and, without asking, wait outside her room until she’d finished. One day he even started to call her Mistress Rosemary as a sign of respect. A few days later Kevin had retrieved Mistress’s breakfast tray when he accidentally fell down the last few stairs of the staircase. Mistress rushed out and helped him up; luckily, he wasn’t seriously hurt but Mistress noticed that tears were welling up in his eyes, then the tears started running down his face in embarrassment, “Please forgive me, Mistress Rosemary; I was so stupid.; it won’t happen again.” “Oh, don’t be such a silly thing – you’re behaving like a big sissy, Kevin. From that day on Mistress Rosemary always called him Sissy. Weeks passed and the new relationship of Mistress and Sissy was cemented. Mistress Rosemary adopting the dominant position with Sissy happily embracing the subservient role. It seemed to fit each one of them like a glove. It was a symbiotic relationship that fulfilled the needs of both. Weeks turned into months until one day, Mistress Rosemary summoned Sissy to the drawing room. “Sissy, I have thought long and hard about your position and have decided to formalize our relationship; I believe you will be happy with what I have decided.” She outlined what she had in mind and Sissy grinned. “That would be wonderful, Mistress. I really don’t deserve such magnanimous treatment from you. This will change my life and I solemnly vow to comply with the agreement to the letter. Thank you so much, Mistress.” “Good then, Sissy. I shall instruct my solicitor to draw up a document.” Piers Higginbottom, Bertha von Liechtenstein, and the Reverend Ashley Bonham Hart were in attendance together with Mistress Rosemary who was seated at her desk. Sissy stood at a respectful distance. Mr Higginbottom commenced the reading of the document: “I, Mistress Rosemary, also known as Dennis St John Peters, together with Sissy, also known as…” “No, that’s no good,” interrupted Mistress; Sissy needs a name.” Everyone agreed. Mistress thought for a few minutes then spoke out “Sissy, you may select a name from the following: Penelope, Prudence, Chastity, Karen, Comfort, Linda or Charlotte.” Sissy pondered for a few minutes then decided upon Charlotte. She thought it was a lovely name: Sissy Charlotte. It had a nice ring to it. “So be it, Sissy Charlotte it shall be.” stated Mistress. Mr Higginbottom, kindly fill in the name of Sissy Charlotte.” The solicitor was about to fill in the name when Sissy piped up “No, Mistress. May I change my mind? I prefer Sissy Karen.” “Oh, very well, then.” said Mistress dryly. The document was filled in and the solicitor continued: “I, Mistress Rosemary, also known as Dennis St John Peters; and Sissy Karen, also known as Kevin William St John Peters, agree to the following:
Signed and witnessed this day etc. etc.” Both Mistress Rosemary and Sissy Karen signed the document. Bertha von Liechtenstein and the Reverend Ashley Bonham Hart signed as witnesses. Nancy was instructed to bring in a bottle of Moët & Chandon Dom Pérignon and champagne glasses, and everyone raised their glasses and made a toast to “Mistress Rosemary and Sissy Karen!” After the last person had left, Mistress Rosemary told Sissy Karen brusquely “Follow me.” Rosemary strode down the dark corridor until she reached the rear entrance to the Hall. She opened the door to the Box Room and stated, “These will be your quarters. You will find your uniform hanging up inside. Goodnight Sissy.” And with that, Mistress went off bed in the Regency Room. Rosemary was a firm but fair mistress. Sissy was presented to the other servants as Sissy Karen, and Bertha von Liechtenstein was charged with giving Sissy her daily chores and supervising her performance. Whenever Mistress Rosemary deemed it necessary, Sissy Karen would be chastised with Tickler 2, but it was Bertha who administered the punishment - always in private. Ten strokes on her bare bottom were usually enough. A few weeks later Mistress Rosemary instructed Sissy Karen to take a basket and walk into the village to buy a few things…dressed of course in her neat maid’s uniform with starched white apron, white stockings, black Mary Janes and a pretty bonnet. Her blond hair was plaited into two braids which hung down each side of her face. Mistress had treated her to a small pink Balenciaga handbag, and she used it today for the first time. Being a small village, word had spread rapidly, and everyone knew about the pretty new maid at Fairbourne Hall called Sissy Karen. The vicar rode by on his ancient bicycle, waved to Sissy, cheerily greeting her with “Good morning, Sissy! Hope to see you at the Women’s Choral practice at the church on Wednesday night.” and pedaled off. Sissy bobbed politely and called out that she was looking forward to it. She then entered the chemist shop to buy some stockings that Mistress needed. Mr Culpepper had passed away some years ago and the shop was now run by his daughter Gwendoline. Gwendoline greeted Sissy in a friendly way with “Hello, Sissy, how are you today?” Sissy curtsied respectfully replying “Thank you Miss Culpepper, I’m very well.” and asked what stockings were in stock for her mistress. “Oh, I’ve just had some gorgeous, patterned stockings come in.” and she showed her. They were indeed lovely, and Sissy bought them for her mistress. Sissy's Handbag Mistress's new stockings Sissy needed some nail varnish and selected a bottle of salmon coloured varnish; she knew that Mistress always required her maids to have well-manicured nails with discreet nail varnish. Sissy paid, bade farewell, curtsied, and left. Just as she stepped out into the street Karen encountered a good-looking young fellow - Jack, who gave her a winning smile and stopped to talk. As readers will recall, Jack used to deliver Priscilla’s diapers to the Hall back when she suffered from incontinence, and when Mistress Rosemary was then known as Priscilla and was working as Aunt Agatha’s maid. While on her deathbed Aunt Agatha had released Priscilla from her servitude and bequeathed her Fairbourne Hall and a substantial inheritance, and from then on Priscilla was known as Mistress Rosemary. Life’s Wheel of Fortune had turned full circle and Kevin, now known as Sissy Karen, was now Mistress Rosemary’s maid. I trust, dear reader, that you have been paying attention and recall all these twists and turns. Life moves on and things change constantly, and life in Little Shipton was not exempt from these developments: Grandpa Rolly had died. Dennis became Priscilla the maid, and then became Mistress Rosemary. Aunt Agatha had died. Mr Culpepper had died. Kevin the poor sheep farmer had now become Sissy Karen the maid. Jack had grown from a spotty youth who made extra cash by making deliveries on his bike for the late Mr Culpepper, into a strapping young man with hormones surging through his veins. “Hello, I haven’t seen you before,” chirped Jack, “What’s pretty lady like you doing here?” Karen was tongue tied; when she’d happily accepted the position of maid at the Hall, she thought her life would be just cleaning; she’d never dreamed that a young man would ever make a pass at her. She was unprepared for this and blushed deeply. “I work at the Hall for Mistress Rosemary”, she stammered. “I thought so when I saw your uniform. A friend told me there was a new maid there”, smoothly adding “but he didn’t tell me that the maid was so pretty. I’m Jack, what’s your name?” Karen’s heart started beating fast. This young stud is coming on to me fast. “My name’s Karen, Sir.” She thought it would be polite to call him Sir, and so try to keep a discreet distance between them. But she felt like a deer in the headlights – paralyzed and not knowing how to escape from this unexpected situation. “Karen – that’s a nice name: delicate and cute, just like you.” Karen was in a fluster and didn’t know what to do so she just extended her dress in both hands, curtsied, smiled demurely and said, “Thank you, Sir.” “Oh, don’t call me Sir; we’re friends now – just call me Jack. Karen and Jack – sounds nice, doesn’t it? When do you have any free time, Karen? I’d like to see you again” and then as an afterthought, he ran up his true colours and came right out and said “There’s a dance at the church hall next Saturday; would you like to come with me? It’ll be fun.” Karen smiled shyly at Jack
Karen was taken aback and left speechless. She had always kept her slim figure and took great care to protect her face, shoulders and arms from the harsh sunlight back on the sheep farm, so she didn’t look her age at all. She could have easily been taken for a 40-year-old even though she was now 67. Karen’s mind was in a whirl; she was old enough to be Jack’s mother or even his grandmother! Jack had dated several local girls but found them to be very immature and lacking in intelligent conversation – it seemed they only wanted to talk about their dreams, where they wanted to travel, getting married and having kids. Despite his youth, Jack was mature for his age and wanted to go to university and then launch out on his own, maybe going to live and work in London, or Paris, or Berlin. He had great dreams of meeting older, elegant women – wining and dining them in top restaurants and then bedding them. He’d lost his virginity several years previously in a brief unsatisfactory encounter in the back of his old car: now he wanted more than anything for an older woman to teach him all the bedroom tricks that she’d learned from past lovers. “Well, is that a yes then?” queried Jack. Karen kept dithering nervously. Since breaking up with Irma she’d had no sex at all, but what with the demands of the sheep station, the whirlwind trip to Sydney, travelling down to Fairbourne Hall and then the emotion and hard work at the Hall, she’d had little time for thinking about the opposite sex. But Jack now fitted the description of “the opposite sex” and what harm could come from prancing around doing innocent square dances and line dances under the watchful eye of an English country vicar? “I’d have to ask permission from Mistress Rosemary.” She ventured non-committally. “Super! I’ll pop around to the Hall tomorrow and you can let me know if your Mistress gives you permission.” Karen’s heart was throbbing, but it wasn’t the only part of her that was throbbing. By Mistress Rosemary Previous Chapters: 1&2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 2030 - An eventful year It was early evening in the outback and the sun was sinking below the horizon, silhouetting the eucalyptus trees that surrounded the shack that Bindi called home. It’d a been a busy day for Bindi, giving many instructions to Gurumarra for the feeding and shearing of the sheep, and the purchase of vaccines. Today she’d worn an attractive loose flowery skirt and pale pink, short sleeved top. She’d clearly stuffed something inside her bra cups because she had a very attractive bustline. Gurumarra never commented on her clothes, shrugging it off as a strange habit of these white folk. After washing today’s clothes and hanging them out to dry, she changed into a comfortable summer dress and a pair of low heeled, slingback shoes. Bindi’s washing line was a strange mixture of skirts, blouses, bras and panties, and Gurumarra’s working trousers and old shirts. She sat in a wicker chair on the porch to read the newspapers that had arrived with the flying doctor the previous day. The Sydney Morning Herald had the usual news of drug related gang fights, automobile accidents and public anger over high level political corruption. She laid the paper down and picked up The Bideford & Little Shipley Evening Chronical. It was mainly local news: the forthcoming local Boy Scouts Jamboree, names of the Women’s Institute’s newly elected board of directors and the fund-raising drive to repair the church organ at St Michaels. She turned to the Death Notices & Obituaries on the back page where a familiar name caught her eye – Agatha St John Peters. She was surprised, but not overly sad, to read of her sister’s death and her burial at St Michaels. Skimming through the obituary she saw that Agatha had bequeathed Fairbourne Hall and all her property to her bother Dennis. Bindi took another long swig of her way-a-linah, the local aboriginal cider-like drink and she thought long and hard. Her court case against Rolly’s Will had been a disaster…maybe she could try another tactic to get her hands on some of the St John Peters’ wealth that she knew rightly belonged her. Yes, instead of a full-frontal attack she could try a more subtle way: she would calmly explain her plight and ask Dennis if he would be prepared to share at least a little of his newly found fortune with her. Agatha had always been a stiff, disagreeable person as an adult, but she remembered Dennis as an easy going, rather effeminate lady’s hair stylist. Maybe he’d be an easy touch. Bindi didn’t sleep much that night and as the sun crept up over the horizon, she made an important decision: she was going to visit Dennis at Fairbourne Hall and throw herself at his mercy, playing on his heart strings and emotions. Throwing all caution to the wind, Bindi sold all her sheep at give-away prices and, much to Gurumarra’s surprise she donated the sheep station, the shack and the battered pickup truck to him. He couldn’t believe his luck. He hugged Bindi and wished her well. When the flying doctor arrived on his next visit, she persuaded him to give her a lift back to Sydney. As she tearfully bade goodbye to Gurumarra, he gave Bindi a big kiss on her cheek, which made her burst into tears. After the long flight to Sydney, Bindi went straight to the airport but was disappointed when the booking clerk informed her that all flights to England were full for the next 10 days, this being the holiday season. Bindi made a quick calculation: 10 days at a hotel in Sydney, plus food, airfare and travelling expenses down to Devonshire – it was a lot, so she only bought a one-way fare. Settling in on the 5th floor of the Sydney Ibis Budget Hotel, she contemplated her trip. Every morning the dark-haired cleaning lady, neatly dressed in black uniform and white shoes, would knock on the door, call out “Housekeeping”, and ask if she could enter to clean the room: Bindi had nowhere to go and nothing to do all day, so she chatted with Dianne, the cleaning lady, as she worked. They got on well together. Next day Dianne seemed sad and preoccupied – she wasn’t her usual self. “What’s the matter, Dianne,” Bindi asked, “you seem quiet today.” “My mother’s sick – she lives in Melbourne. I asked my supervisor if I could go to take care of her, but she refused permission. It’s the busy season and there’s no one to cover for me” she explained forlornly. A spark of an idea hit Bindi. “What about if I cover for you, doing all your rounds and cleaning all your rooms? I’ll do it for free!” Dianne was delighted with the idea, and upon finishing her rounds for day, she changed into her street clothes and lent Bindi her uniform and shoes, gave her the key to the cleaning equipment room and hotel master room key, thanked her profusely and went off to make plans for her five-day trip to Melbourne. Bindi was over the moon! Five whole days of cleaning! There were 16 rooms! It was a dream come true. Bindi dyed her hair a nice dark colour to match Dianne’s hair colour and she was all set. Next morning at 8 am sharp, Bindi, dressed in Dianne’s uniform and shoes, unlocked the equipment room, and trundled out her trolley full of clean towels, little bottles of shampoo, toilet rolls, brooms, mops, rubber gloves and spray bottles of cleaning liquids. Bindi looked very smart in her black smock, edged in white at collar and sleeves, white apron edged in lace and a cute cap. Going from room to room she swept, vacuumed, mopped, polished mirrors, made beds, changed towels, scrubbed toilets and tiles, and a host of other details that Dianne had overlooked. She took great pleasure in scrubbing out the bottom rails of the sliding shower doors which were grey with accumulated grime. She loved folding the end of the toilet paper into a pointed shape. Dianne had given her some little cards which she filled in by hand and left on each bed: “I hope you have an enjoyable stay! Your housemaid: Bindi” It was heaven on earth! Five wonderful days of cleaning! The only unfortunate experience was when a businessman in room 514 pinched her bottom and offered her 100 US dollars to take a shower with him. Bindi was a good girl and politely refused. Bindi at the Sydney Ibis Budget Hotel Bindi wanted to look her best for the exciting flight to London, so the day before her flight she made an appointment at a lady’s hair salon near the airport, choosing Curls by Natasha in Botany Road. She was delighted with the results; her gleaming blond hair was fluffed out in a gorgeous full style which surrounded her face with wonderful bouncy curls with the locks falling gently to her shoulders. For travelling, Bindi had splashed out and bought an elegant fawn coloured suit with a figure-hugging skirt that reached to just below her knees, and a cute two buttoned jacket, with a discreet white silk blouse. Many admiring heads swiveled around when she arrived at the airport and click clicked across the marble floor to the check-in counter, wearing her beige pumps. Bindi at Sydney airport Bindi queued at the check-in and when it was her turn, she presented her documents to the friendly assistant who weighed her bag, confirmed her flight number and seat number, and checked her passport. He glanced back up at Bindi then once again at the passport which clearly stated Kevin William St John Peters. The Assistant frowned and said discreetly “Err, miss, it seems that your picture…” “Oh, that!” Bindi broke in, smiling sweetly, “I hope that’s no problem - I like to travel comfortably in elegant clothes. I had my hair done especially for the trip.” Studying her passport carefully, the assistant held it up and compared it to Bindi’s facial features. “Just one moment, please.” And the assistant walked over to his supervisor and whispered a few words. Coming over to the desk, the supervisor smiled in a friendly manner, looking at the passport with an experienced eye, then carefully studying Bindi’s face. The man who was waiting behind Bindi in the queue, sighed loudly and muttered to himself “What the hell is holding things up?” “Fine!” decreed he supervisor and informed the check-in assistant that all was in order. Arriving at the body scan Xray cabin she confidently walked in and held her hands above her head, knowing that the attendants rarely checked the passport photo. She knew that she was an attractive woman and would pass as such. Exiting the cabin, the attendant asked Bindi to kindly step to one side and called a female officer over. “I hope you don’t mind, Miss, we need to perform a quick body pat down. If you wish, we can carry this out in a private room.” Bindi declined and was patted down by the female officer who nudged the back of her hand into Bindi’s crotch, where she clearly felt Bindi’s male package. Apparently satisfied, the officer waved her through with a smirk. Dear readers. What Bindi didn’t know, is that all over the world, the Xray machine attendant flips a switch as each person enters the cabin. The position of this switch indicates, in the attendant’s opinion, if the passenger is male or female. He had decided that Bindi was female, but the Xray machine’s algorithm had detected a crotch bulge that was inconsistent with a female body. Crossdressing air passengers be aware! At last Bindi arrived at her seat on board the Boeing 747, where a kindly gentleman lifted her lilac-coloured cabin case into the overhead compartment for her. She smiled sweetly and thanked him. She settled into her window seat and was flipping through the airline magazine, when a 30ish well-dressed man sat down next to her. It was a long tiring flight to Heathrow Airport but the man next to her introduced himself as Brett Dowsing and they chatted agreeable about their families and reasons for travelling to the UK. She gave her name as Bindi and invented a story that she was visiting family in Devonshire, while he explained that he travelled a lot on business and would be in London for just a few days for a meeting. He told her that he lived in Hunters Hill which Bindi knew to be the most elegant area of Sydney. He “accidentally” let slip that he was divorced with no children. Feeling that she should correspond with a few personal details herself, she said that she was single, and her family had their mansion near Exeter. They hit it off very well, Brett easing himself nearer to Bindi, while she smiled demurely, enjoying her second martini on an empty stomach. Brett was drinking scotch on the rocks and after the third one, when Bindi stood to go to the lavatory, he casually placed his hand on Bindi’s cute derriere. He was flirting outrageously but who could blame him? Dear reader, wouldn’t you flirt with such an attractive lady as Bindi? Bindi panicked inside! Should she protest at Brett having touched her backside? She decided to smile coyly. In fact, after returning unsteadily to her seat, they resumed their chuckling and touching. Brett feeling frisky Dear readers. Due to her strict upbringing, the writer of this story is mortified by this flagrant behavior – I find it so embarrassing to relate. Please understand that my father was a Baptist minister and my mother, bless her soul, was a Sunday School teacher all her life. Music & dance, alcoholic beverages, cigarettes, television, radio, computers and immodest clothing were all forbidden in our household, and until I was dishonorably dismissed, I was studying to be a nun. But I am duty bound to inform you that Bindi was so wanton that she…she…she, placed her hand on Brett’s thigh. There! I’ve said it! Before landing, Bindi had to request another customs declaration form from the flight attendant after filling it in incorrectly: In block capitals she’d filled in her name as Bindi St John Peters. Brett had caught a glimpse of Bindi’s passport as she wrote out the details on the immigration form – noting the name as Kevin William St John Peters and made a mental note of it. They parted on friendly terms and Brett gave Bindi his business card, asking if he could call her sometime. Dear readers. I am deeply embarrassed to admit that Bindi was tipsy, and as they parted, she gave Brett a kiss on the cheek! The shameless young thing. Exiting the airport, Bindi took a bus to Exeter, sleeping and snoring most of the trip. Upon arrival, she checked in at the Blue Ball Inn which had a few rooms to rent; she was exhausted, her mouth was parched, and she had a splitting headache: she kicked her pumps off, flopped down on the bed fully clothed and fell into a deep dreamless sleep. She was still on Australia time and slept late the next day, rising at noon, and then enjoyed a large cheeseburger, salad and chips with a glass of red wine in the pub downstairs. After lunch she checked out, called for an Uber, and set off for Fairbourne Hall, full of foreboding. How would she be received? Would Dennis still be angry with her? Would she have to return to Australia penniless? Chapter 12 By Mistress Rosemary Previous Chapters: 1&2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. Death at Fairbourne Hall The winter of 2028 was severe. Climate change had caused gale force winds to howl in from the Arctic, bringing freezing sleet, snow and sudden hailstorms across all of Devonshire. Aunt Agatha still enjoyed her daily jogging around the grounds of Fairbourne Hall, but the cold and damp gave her a terrible cough which turned into pneumonia, and she had to take to her bed. Doctor Bertram Coffin was brought in from the village and he diagnosed the root cause as Covid 19 aggravated by the cold conditions. He prescribed a series of antibiotics, but the cough continued and instead of improving, Aunt Agatha seemed to get weaker every day. Aunt would drift off into delirious sleep and then awake in a sweat. In her lucid moments she reflected upon her life: she’d always been a God-fearing woman and believed that she’d soon be meeting her Maker and would be judged by Him. She knew that in her heart she’d been a good person, but guilt crept in – she hadn’t been kind to Priscilla…but on the other hand Priscilla had needed a firm hand and training in old fashioned Victorian virtues: Chastity. Obedience, Respect for her Betters, Cleanliness, Godliness and a strong Work Ethic. She tried her best to justify her actions, but God would soon be weighing her on His Scales of Justice. Agatha thought about the terms of Grandpa’s Will and the possibility that Fred, Flo, Lizzy and Clive could receive a windfall of two million pounds each but decided that the St John Peters’s hard-earned family fortune should not be frittered away on the working classes. Between bouts of hacking coughs, she told Priscilla that she was going to sign the necessary documents and that she’d release the ten million pounds to her. Surely, He would add that to the Credit side of her account with Him. Hugh Botherington had recently died so Piers Higginbottom was summoned, and in private she gave him instructions on how to draw up the documents and how to amend her Will. The following day, Higginbottom brought the documents, and with Peregrine Sneed and the Reverend Ashley Bonham Hart as witnesses, Agatha signed the release of the ten million pounds to Priscilla (known in the documents as Dennis St John Peters). Then to everyone’s surprise Agatha bequeathed Fairbourne Hall and all her personal assets to Dennis. After the solicitors and the Reverend had left, Aunt Agatha summoned Priscilla and informed her of her sudden change of circumstances then told her to lean over. Agatha whispered some instructions in her ear and Priscilla scurried off, returning breathlessly in a few minutes – she had the dreaded Magic Square keyboard in her hands! Very carefully Agatha typed in the secret code and Priscilla felt a click inside her panties: the awful cock cage had been released! Priscilla sobbed with joy. She was free and wealthy. Agatha drifted off into a deep sleep and Priscilla left the room. Word spread rapidly throughout the Hall (Lizzy had been eavesdropping) and as Priscilla quietly closed the bedroom door, Fred, Flo, Lizzy and Clive were waiting for her. Flo and Lizzy curtsied; Fred and Clive, clutching their hats in their hands, bowed deeply. “Good afternoon, Sir” they chimed as one. Lizzy spoke: “We have been very concerned about Miss Agatha’s ill health and the anguish that you must be suffering, Sir. We hope that Miss Agatha soon gets well. If you need anything - anything at all - please ask, Sir. We are at your disposal 24 hours a day, Mr Dennis.” That night at 3:17 am Agatha passed away, and within the week she was buried in the family plot in St Michael’s graveyard. Within an hour her grave was covered with snow. The St John Peters’ family grave, St Michaels, Little Shipton The year 2029 started bitterly cold, and Dennis took to wearing Aunt Agatha’s old clothes around the Hall – warm Glencoe tweed skirt suits, black silk blouses and black garter belts with beige stockings. She let her blond hair flow freely, wore discreet makeup and red lipstick. She instructed the servants to call her Mistress Rosemary – a name she’d always liked. Mistress Rosemary of Fairbourne Hall The last vestige of Dennis’s male-self flickered, then the guttering flame was finally snuffed out like a candle in the wind. Mistress Rosemary instructed Lizzy to keep all the fireplaces burning 24 hours a day to keep the Hall warm. Fred had to bring in pails of coal every three or four hours, night and day, to replenish the fires, and Lizzy had to be in permanent attendance to stoke the fires and rake out the ashes – vacuuming and mopping the carpets and corridors where Fred had left muddy wet footprints and coal dust. At the end of January Mistress Rosemary hired a Housekeeper – Frau Bertha von Liechtenstein, a stern middle-aged widow who’d impressed Mistress Rosemary during the interviews. Frau Bertha was a firm believer in firm discipline, coupled with a strong work ethic. Bertha dressed in long sleeved, high necked, black brocade dresses that almost touched the floor. She also wore black, lace-up boots and stalked around the Hall giving orders to the servants. Frau Bertha von Liechtenstein’s dress and boots Frau Liechtenstein soon became disappointed with the servants and easily persuaded Mistress Rosemary to replace them. Fred, Flo and Lizzy were fired, and they were last seen standing in a blizzard, bags in hand, at the bus stop in Little Shipton waiting for the bus to Exeter (which arrived over six hours late due crashed vehicles having blocked the icy roads). George and Lucy Harper were hired as gardener and cook, and a local girl, Nancy Hastings, as housemaid. Clive hadn’t been fired because it was difficult to find a substitute but finally Frau Bertha hired Hank Strongbow – a burly fellow who had been a professional wrestler in his youth. That afternoon Hank was given instructions to bring Clive to the Drawing Room where Mistress Rosemary and Frau Liechtenstein were waiting. Hank returned dragging Clive by the ear and pushed him into the centre of the room, then stood, arms crossed in front of the door. Mistress stood glaring at Clive, who was quivering nervously, eyes twitching. Mistress Rosemary commenced: “Fred was an uncouth thug who enjoyed torturing me,” she stated coldly; “Flo was a cruel woman who was given to making snide hurtful remarks, while silly Lizzy was an airhead who let authority go to her head.” Clive dropped his gaze; Frau von Liechtenstein looked at him tight lipped; Hank stood emotionless. “But you Clive, you pretended to be my friend then you betrayed my trust; you took advantage of my loneliness, and you forced me to submit to your selfish desires. You humiliated me just as much as my Aunt Agatha…worse. You were worse than all of them put together.” Clive was trembling. “Hank, kindly help me.” Rosemary asked courteously. Hank pulled a chair out to the middle of the room and dragged Clive over to it. “You know the drill, Clive. Adopt the punishment position!” she ordered. Clive dithered and waited then slowly bent over the chair. “No! No! No! Drop your trousers and underpants to your ankles! Now!” Seeing there was no escape, he slowly and shamefacedly obeyed, bending over the chair, and began to whimper then started crying. “Now we all take turns; a total of fifty strokes of The Tickler!” Frau Bertha helpfully told Mistress Rosemary that 50 didn’t divide exactly into three, so the ladies agreed to increase it to 17 strokes each, giving a nice total of 51, but Hank was of the opinion that 17 was an ugly number so they all agreed to increase it to 20 strokes each. While this arithmetic was taking place Clive began to sob and beg but to no avail. “Ladies first” said Hank cordially. Frau Bertha said deferentially “You first, Mistress” to which Rosemary answered “No, you first, Frau Liechtenstein.” “No, I insist, Mistress. As Mistress of the household, it is your honour to go, first.” While this politeness was taking place, Clive started wailing. Mistress Rosemary took the cane and walked around Clive several times making menacing air swipes with Tickler. He was trembling and sobbing. “Please, please, no! I beg you. Please don’t do this.” He wailed pitifully. “Remember who you are talking to, young lad!” barked Mistress Rosemary, “You forget! I demand respect from my servants!” “Mistress Rosemary, Madam…yes Mistress Rosemary. I’m begging you…don’t, please don’t. I’m sorry Mistress Rosemary…” Mistress Rosemary ignored his pleading; walking behind him, she tapped his bottom three times with the tip of Tickler and said “Ready, Clive? Here it comes!” She made a great sweeping stroke…………………………..which swished past Clive’s bottom and thwacked onto the floor. Hank let out a guffaw, Frau Liechtenstein grinned. Clive dissolved into uncontrolled sobbing and sank to the floor in a heap. “Humiliation isn’t much fun, is it Clive? You knew how to dish it out, but you don’t know how to take it. You will now have your final punishment before being expelled. Sit down on the chair!” She ordered fiercely. With his trousers and underpants still around his ankles, Clive sat blubbering, runny snot streaming down from his nostrils. His face was red. “You’ll now have a taste of some real old fashioned Victorian punishment that you won’t forget in a hurry.” And with that, Frau von Liechtenstein strode over with a dark glass fluted bottle in her hands; she had a determined look on her face. “If you would be so kind, Frau von Liechtenstein; Please commence the dosing.” Frau Bertha unscrewed the bottle cap and carefully measured out a tablespoonful of the oily liquid from the bottle. “Open!” she demanded, and Clive, panic stricken, opened his mouth. The spoonful of liquid was emptied into Clive’s mouth, and he nearly gagged on the taste. It was truly revolting. Frau Bertha repeated the dosing until Clive had swallowed three tablespoons full of the awful liquid. He heaved and almost threw up but managed to keep it down. Frau Bertha then produced a pair of adult disposable diapers and instructed Clive to take off his trousers and underpants, pull on the diaper and stand there in front of everyone in this humiliating garb. At Mistress Rosemary’s bidding, Clive was dragged off, clutching his trousers and underpants in his hand, and was taken down to the Box Room, where he was locked inside. Next morning, Hank unlocked the Box Room door and told Clive to follow him back to the drawing room where, once again Mistress Rosemary and Frau Liechtenstein were waiting. Clive walked awkwardly and the awful smell indicated to everyone that he’d dirtied the diaper that he was wearing underneath his trousers. “You stink!” snapped Mistress Rosemary. “Frau Bertha, kindly administer another three tablespoons full of the castor oil, then, Hank, take this miserable excuse of a man and throw him out of the Hall.” Clive was again dosed with the foul-tasting oil and allowed to change into a clean diaper, then Hank escorted him out of the front gate. After walking a few paces along the road, Clive suddenly bent over clutching his stomach, groaned, and uttered out loud “Oh No! No! No!” Justice had been served in Fairbourne Hall. Chapter 11 By Mistress Rosemary Previous Chapters: 1&2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 2023 - 2029 After having served in the Royal Air Force for many years as Physical Education Trainer, Aunt Agatha was in superb physical condition and enjoyed her daily exercise routine. Recalling that under the terms of Rolly’s Will she was responsible for Priscilla’s training and health, Aunt decided that Priscilla would undergo a daily fitness programme to improve her circulation and heart condition and to develop any unused muscles (not that there were many: with all the hard chores, scrubbing floors, bending, using the hand mangle, scaling ladders to clean windows and mowing lawns, Priscilla had become quite strong). While Aunt was enjoying her soft-boiled eggs and hot buttered toast in bed, Priscilla stood against the bedroom wall, with head lowered, waiting until Madam finished so that the tray and plates could be taken away. Hence, one morning Aunt advised her of her intention: “Peters, starting tomorrow at 7am you will commence a physical fitness programme that I used while in the armed forces. You may find it a little strenuous at first, but you’ll soon get used to it and might even enjoy it.” “Thank you, Madam; that would be lovely; it would get my blood pumping before I start my chores.” “Yes, that’s what I thought. You will recall that some time ago Madam treated you to a gym slip, blouse and a pair of knickers from the Salvation Army jumble sale.” “Yes, Madam.” “You will wear them tomorrow and you’ll meet me at the end of the Lower Field, next to the sheep pens. Don’t be late.” The following day was cold, with low rain clouds looming overhead as Priscilla jogged down to the designated rendezvous, dressed in her maroon gym slip (the colours of the Little Shipton Secondary School for Girls – clearly this uniform had belonged to one of the girls from this prestigious academic institution), maroon fleecy knickers with elastic around the bottom of the legs, white cotton blouse, striped tie, white ankle socks and gym shoes. Priscilla's gymslip, blouse and tie Madam had already arrived and was doing some warmup exercises, dressed in a navy blue sweat suit and Nike gym shoes. Priscilla curtsied, wished Madam a very Good Morning and took her place facing her gym Mistress. “Ready, Peters, then we’ll begin with jumping jacks – first you’ll follow what I do.” Then she started jumping up and down, alternately spreading her legs and then closing them. “Out, one two, In one two, Out, one two, In one two, Out, one two, In one two, Out, one two, In one two, Out, one two, In one two, Out, one two, In one two…it continued for ten minutes Priscilla started puffing. “Now running on the spot. Start…lift those legs up, No! Higher, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right…” A few raindrops started to fall so Madam sheltered under the overhang of the sheep pens. Priscilla was out in the open of course, beginning to inhale and exhale loudly through her mouth. These warmup exercises were followed by 40 sit ups in the wet grass, then 40 press ups, and 40 squats. Madam was getting a little tired, so she stopped but continued shouting out orders. “Don’t slow down! Down, Up, Down, Up, Down, Up, Down, Up, Down, Up, Down, Up, Down, Up, Down, Up…” Priscilla was gasping for breath. “Right, now your blood is flowing nicely, start to jog around the field. Off you go! Madam, being the trainer, remained under the eaves of the sheep pen in the dry. “Go, go, go! --- faster, faster. You run like an old lady.” she shouted out across the field. “Come on! Faster, Peters!” It was now raining steadily – a cold, winter rain - and the ground became muddy. Priscilla sloshed through the puddles, mud splattering over her gym shoes, socks and legs. Soon the cold water flooded into her shoes and made squelching sounds as she ran. Her gymslip was soaked and flapped heavily around her knees. Three laps around the field and Priscilla was exhausted, gasping for air and beginning to slow down. 40 minutes of harsh exercise had been torture. “Right! 40 more sit ups and off you go to get cleaned up ready for your chores, Peters.” Sitting in the cold, wet mud and heaving her aching body up and down brought Priscilla to her limit: completing the 40 sit ups, she flopped back down face up in the mud, the rain beating down steadily on her body. Her heart was pounding. “Up you get and off you go now, Peters. Tell Master Clive to drive down here and pick me up, there’s a good girl. Oh yes, tell Flo to make me a nice big mug of hot tea to warm me up, and have clean towels ready for my bath.” This Training Routine was performed three times week. Priscilla’s work routine never ceased: mopping, scrubbing, washing and ironing, interspersed with having her knuckles rapped with a wooden ruler for minor offenses, her backside thrashed with Tickler 2 for medium offenses, and beatings with the strap for what Madam considered to be serious breaches of etiquette, cleanliness or impunctuality. Being two minutes late was considered a serious lack of respect and deserved the strap being applied to her bare bum by an obliging Fred. Priscilla’s rear end after one of Fred’s strappings. Three years had passed since Priscilla’s new life at the Hall had begun, and she was now accustomed to the work schedule, which she could usually finish easily by about midnight. Once a year, on a Sunday afternoon, after servicing Master Clive, she would dress neatly and walk down the hill to the graveyard at St Michael’s church and place two roses on Grandpa Rolly’s grave – one red rose to recall the happy times she’d shared with him, and one white rose to mourn her present situation – situation that he had caused. Meanwhile, in the antipodes, Kevin and Irma continued feeding, watering, vaccinating, shearing and slaughtering sheep – they already had quite a large flock. But things were not at all happy in the wooden shack they called home. Irma yearned for the intellectual and cultural stimulation of Sydney – the orchestral concerts, the shows, the music festivals, thought provoking, and intelligent conversations with educated people. Irma particularly enjoyed watching the annual Sydney Gay& Lesbian Mardi Gras. The Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras She’d been in the outback working hard for three years but she’d finally had enough and told Kevin that she was going to return to Sydney. She wanted to go to university and study: maybe mathematics, or science, or chemistry, or perhaps, botany. Kevin and Irma's home in the outback Kevin was sad but knew that if he returned, he’d be hounded by the press and again exposed as a convicted criminal – guilty of a shameful series of acts. They parted ways amicably. Kevin couldn’t keep up with the demanding workload alone and had to hire a local stockman of aboriginal origin who went under the name of Gurumarra, which in his native tongue signifies “Lightning with no thunder”. Gurumarra, for his part, referred to Kevin as Boss Man. Gurumarra the stockman Now that he was alone, Kevin had to do all the cooking and cleaning himself; the dust blew in under the door and through the broken windowpanes, and required constant sweeping, dusting and cleaning with a damp cloth. After Gurumarra had come in to receive work instructions, Kevin had to get down on his hands and knees and scrub the wooden floorboards clean, then Gurumarra would often return for further clarification, so the scrubbing and mopping had to be repeated. Kevin did all the washing up and the clothes washing, including Gurumarra’s work clothes. Nasty insects and venomous spiders would crawl in under the doors and get into the bedlinen, so Kevin had to shake them out frequently and wash the sheets daily. Deadly Eastern Brown snakes and Inland Taipans would often slither in at night and sleep in the cupboards, so Kevin had to empty the cupboards, dressers and wardrobes daily, scrub them, disinfect them and replace all the things. As soon as he’d finished, the wind would howl over the dusty plains and blow more dust in, requiring Kevin to sweep and clean once again. Life was one long grind of chores and cleaning but in a strange way Kevin enjoyed it; he seemed to have found his true calling in life. Kevin had to wash all his clothes out every afternoon, so while they dried, he took to wearing a few items of clothing that Irma had left behind in her haste to go - panties, skirts, blouses, dresses, pinafores and even her bras. He lived alone, so nobody could see him, and who cared anyway? He was 1,000 miles from civilization. He even wore summer dresses during the day; it became his New Normal. But Gurumarra noticed Boss Man’s new choice of clothes and started calling him Bindi instead: not as you might think, to imitate Bindi Irwin, daughter of the late Steve Irwin, the crocodile man, but because Bindi in the Noongar native language means Little Girl, or Butterfly. Bindi behind her shack in the outback
By Mistress Rosemary Previous Chapters: 1&2,3,4,5,6,7 Priscilla's Lust Priscilla’s life was one never ending grind of scrubbing, washing, ironing, sweeping, mopping, cleaning windows, polishing, and making beds, interspersed with receiving snide remarks, public humiliation, and severe canings every Sunday during Punishment Hour. Even The Tickler had broken from overuse and had to be relaced with another longer, stronger one; Aunt baptized it Tickler 2. Getting up at the crack of dawn and working almost nonstop until 10, 11 or 12 o’clock at night– sometimes even to 2 or 3 in the morning was wearing her down. The exhausting work, the lack of sleep, the punishments and lack of human kindness were beginning to take their toll. Only rarely did she feel her male sexual urges and needs, while on the other hand she had begun to tolerate, then enjoy, sucking Clive’s cock. It was the nearest she got to feeling wanted, if only as a sex object. Flo continued to make demeaning remarks and serve her tepid tasteless slop, Fred enjoyed making her use his filthy clothes and cleaning out the pig sties, Lizzy harried her and criticised her work continually, and Madam Agatha seemed to take great pleasure in finding new and ingeniously cruel ways to humiliate her in public. Even Clive, who had seemed so sympathetic and kind to begin with, had started to be more demanding. On their Sunday afternoon rendezvous, he started to call her Peters instead of Priscilla, and told her to call him Master Clive. He instructed her to caress his balls then after a few more sessions he demanded that she kiss and suck them as well. He even trained her to beg for his weekly fellatio, demanding that she say “Please, Master Clive, may I be allowed to suck your great organ until you honour me by coming in my mouth? I yearn to swallow your seed, Sir.” “Oh well, I suppose so, Peters.” He would grudgingly answer. After the act she had to repeat: “Thank you, Sir; that was wonderful; I’m so grateful to feel your hot man juice spurt into my mouth; I treasure it.” she was trained to say with a mouthful of cum. Clive was drunk with his power over Priscilla, and he dreamed up more and more humiliation for her. Whenever they ran into each other in the Hall during the week, Clive had taught her to curtsy to him and say in a soft sexy voice “Good morning, Master Clive. I’m looking forward to Sunday, Sir. I just can’t wait to have your enormous organ in my mouth again, Sir.” After some months had passed, whenever Clive ran into Priscilla in the Hall during the week, he would often whisper in her ear “I want a quickie.” She had soon learned what that meant and that she would have to obey, so she’d answer, “That would be wonderful, Sir.” Once she’d tried to avoid complying but the following Sunday during Punishment Hour, Madam declared that Clive had reported her for insubordination, and she received 5 extra lashes of the cane. After that, whenever Clive wanted a quickie, she would go to Clive’s attic room where he’d be waiting for her. On cue, she would enter, walk over to him, kneel, and unbutton his trousers, pull then down, then carefully pull his underpants up over his erect cock and pull them down as well. She’d been trained to hold the base of his swollen member, cup his balls in her other hand and then take his long prick into her mouth. When he came, she would swallow, gently lick the last drop of semen off the end of his member, pull up his underpants, carefully positioning his limp organ inside, pull up his trousers and button them up. The final humiliation was when she was obliged to take out a one-pound coin and pay Clive, curtsy and back away to the door, exiting and closing the door. Clive Swerver Priscilla’s last masculine urges were being stamped out and her feminine side was being watered and nurtured like a small plant that grew and grew until the bud burst open into a beautiful flower. But she endured everything stoically, never forgetting that there might be 10 million pounds in it for her after a few years. Everyone has their price, and 10 million pounds was Priscilla’s price. Priscilla understood why Aunt enjoyed punishing her – she was inherently a nasty person. But why had all the others joined in so enthusiastically? And finally, the awful truth dawned upon her – they each wanted their two million pounds and wanted Aunt to fail her when the five years were up. One day, Aunt summoned Priscilla to her room. Priscilla knocked gently, waited to be told to enter, went in, curtsied daintily and waited for Madam Agatha to talk. Agatha informed her that the Bideford branch of the Salvation Army was going to hold a jumble sale to raise funds, and requested donations of clothes, toys, kitchen utensils and the like. “I instructed Lizzy to sort through all your things and she has separated all your masculine clothes and shoes and has left them in two black plastic bags outside the Box Room. You won’t be needing them, and they might help some poor alcoholic or drug addict. Go and put them in the Mini Cooper; Clive will be taking me to Bideford in 10 minutes. Oh, and by the way, she included your cell phone. You won’t want that either – the battery’s flat anyway. She also found two packs of condoms - she threw them in the toilet. You won’t be needing them for years, will you? she added nastily.” Wasn’t she even allowed to have a little privacy in her dark little room anymore? Were her personal things now Aunt’s property also? She felt that she had nothing left – no dignity, no self-esteem, no personal property, no money, no car. All was being whittled away little by little. Even her body now belonged to Clive. “While I’m away, I want you to clean Grandpa Rolland’s old bedroom. It hasn’t been cleaned since his death and it needs a thorough cleaning. See to it.” Priscilla gathered her cleaning utensils and climbed the stairs to Grandpa Rolly’s old bedroom on the second floor – the Regency Room in the West Wing. It was a large room with a wide bay window that overlooked the back lawns, the great water fountain, and the flower beds. A queen sized four poster bed took up the centre of the room. Pale blue and soft yellow Persian silk carpets covered the floors. Leading off the room there was a large dressing room, marble tiled bathroom and separate toilet. His suits, shirts and old army uniform hung in the wardrobe. Three chests of drawers contained smaller items of clothing. Priscilla entered the room and felt a chill run down her spine, remembering the close love and friendship that she’d shared with Grandpa Rolly, but she couldn’t forget the harsh demands in his Will. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at a framed photo of Grandpa and Grandma on their wedding day. Another photo showed little Agatha, Kevin and Dennis playing in a swimming pool with their parents. It was like looking back into another world – a world of carefree happiness, of innocence, love and shared experiences. A tear trickled down her cheek as she thought of those times and her present sad situation. On top of the dresser were three jewellery cases. She opened them and saw the most wonderful collection of her dear old granny’s necklaces, bracelets, brooches, and rings, studded with diamonds from South Africa where great grandpa had owned mines. There were gorgeous deep green, cat’s eye, trapiche emeralds that Rolly had won at the gaming tables in Monte Carlo, a large, teardrop-shaped blue sapphire, and a black velvet bag of smaller rubies and natural pearls. In all it was worth a small fortune…or maybe a large fortune. She snapped back into reality and started the cleaning – it took three hours until finally she completed the task. As one last job she decided to organize the dresser drawers. There were socks, underpants, ties, singlets, swimming trunks, shorts and tee shirts. While organizing the bottom drawer she felt under the clothes and found some old magazines which she took out and scanned through. She was amazed to discover that they all showed pictures of lithe young women in corsets, roll on girdles, suspender belts and stockings! So, Grandpa Rolly was a horny old fellow after all! Why is it that many of us think that our parents and grandparents never felt the same urgent lusts and urges that we have? We remember grandpa as an aged, kindly old fellow walking slowly with a walking stick – never as a horny young stud kneeling in front of granny’s pussy while she begs to be fucked. Strange, eh? Leafing through the well-thumbed pages, Priscilla drooled over the sexy pictures; thoughts of her old lover Jane Burlington flashed back into her brain. Dennis had loved to watch Jane as she seductively danced before him in her underwear, slowly peeling off her bra, then her girdle and finally her panties. He adored running his hands up and down her thighs, caressing her furry mound, weighing her heavy breasts in his hands, and sucking her nipples. Priscilla’s male hormones surged through her once more. She quickly stripped off her clothes, kneeled on Rolly’s bed, laying the magazine before her and lusted over the women in the magazines while she stroked her swollen penis. Page after page of unattainable gorgeous young ladies in wonderful tight-fitting girdles and old-fashioned bullet bras. It was a fiesta of emotions for Priscilla as she spurted great ropes of cum over Rolly’s red velvet bedspread. She was a man after all! She wasn’t a sissy wimp who had to obey orders and be humiliated! She felt invigorated and elated. Rebellion was in the making…but it didn’t last long. She just knew in her heart that she had to obey or suffer punishment if she were ever to win her inheritance. The rebellion was over before it began. Grandpa Rolly's magazines At about lunchtime, Clive drove the Mini fast up the driveway and screeched to a halt in front of the main door. Slamming the car door, Aunt Agatha entered the entrance hall carrying some carrier bags, and happily informed Priscilla that she’d treated her to some nice cotton bloomers, thick knickers, a gym slip and even a bullet bra; they were all used but with a good wash they’d be like new. “Thank you very much, Madam Agatha, they’re beautiful – I can’t wait to try them on.” Since Grandpa Rolly’s death, Agatha had decided to insure her granny’s jewels, and Hugh Botherington was awaiting quotes from several insurance companies. Hugh had forewarned her that almost certainly the companies would demand a strong wall safe, firmly anchored to the wall, window bars, motion detectors, camaras and an infra-red alarm system. Agatha was loathe to destroy the Regency Room silk wallpaper, so as a stopgap measure, she had a technician come and install a single, motion-operated security camara in Rolly’s bedroom. The camara’s recordings could be viewed on Aunt Agatha’s cell phone. Gotcha! dear reader. You’ve guessed what’s coming next, haven’t you! Every month like clockwork, Agatha would review the camara recordings and you can imagine her anger when she saw the latest recording! A pride of starving lions being shown a gaggle of Christians would be nothing compared with Madam Agatha’s fury. “Look at this!” Madam Agatha ordered, showing Priscilla the video on her cell phone, “you filthy lustful animal!”. Aunt was incensed and tore into poor Priscilla with vengeance. “First you assault a lady in the waxing salon and now you commit self-abuse, and to add insult to injury, you, you, you… spurted your evil seed on my dearest grandfather’s bed! Madam Agatha was furious, and she snapped out “First you’re going to get a taste of the cane, then there’ll more punishment later. Kneel on the sofa and lift your skirts, you young slut. Now is the time for swishing!” Priscilla was terrified and obeyed meekly, kneeling on the red velvet sofa and lifting her dress to expose her black underwear and bare bum cheeks. Madam used The Tickler to great effect, giving Priscilla ten cruel slashes on her rump. The first stroke came with a sharp crack as the cane bit into Priscilla’s upturned bare flesh. Priscilla’s derriere was just crying out to be decorated with colourful weals. Waiting for the second stroke must have seemed an eternity to her, until in that split second before feeling the stroke she heard the frightening swish as The Tickler cut through the air. Her bare bottom sprang into life, wriggling, clenching and unclenching bizarrely, as The Tickler began to weave its pattern of agony and colour. Priscilla gasped, squealed and writhed through all ten deliciously hard strokes. Her blazing bottom was a picture to behold. Priscilla shrieked and sobbed after the last stroke was applied. Now go to bed now with no supper. This isn’t the last you’ve heard about your disgusting behavior.” Priscilla recieving her well deserved punishment Dear reader. No Sissy story would be complete without a chastity device being forcibly attached to the poor Sissy, would it? So here it comes… Three days later Amazon delivered a package to Madam Agatha, and she opened it at once, reading the complicated instructions. It came with a battery so Aunt could practice for a while before summoning Priscilla into the drawing room. “I have a little surprise for you; go to your room and shave all your private parts perfectly. You have 15 minutes.” Priscilla returned quaking with fear – what abomination had Madam in store for her now? What was she going to do to her most intimate parts? “Enter! You’re late! Come here!” Priscilla forgot to curtsy, but Madam didn’t notice. Aunt pulled down Priscilla’s panties, extending her bald balls forward, she snapped a stainless-steel hinged ring behind them. It clicked shut but it had no keyhole. How was the damned thing ever going to be removed, thought Priscilla. A steel open-ended cage was slid over her cock and clicked onto the ring behind her balls. It felt strange – constricting and tight. Once more she was humiliated, but worse than in her worst nightmares. The hole at the end of the cage would allow her to pee. Madam handed her an electronic keyboard about the size of a cell phone; the green screen lit up. “This is a fun little game that you’re going to play. The only, I repeat only, way you can release and remove the cock cage is to win at this tricky little game. It’s called a magic square. Do you know what a magic square is?” “No, Madam Agatha” she answered. Her voice was quivering. “A magic square contains 16 little squares arranged in lines, four by four. You must fill in every small square with a different number, using the keyboard, so that every horizontal line and every vertical column, and the two diagonals add up to the same number.” The pictures below show two examples: the one on the left adds up to 34 in all directions and the one on the right adds up to 50.” “Do you understand, Peters?” “Yes, Madam Agatha; I think so.” “Good. There are a few rules to this game though. A successful solution will open the cage. An unsuccessful attempt will keep the cage locked for another week. Only one chance every week. Failure means and you must wait another week to try again!” “I understand, Madam. Only one chance a week - if I fail my one opportunity, I must wait another week to try again.” “Yes, that’s right. There’s just one other rule, each week the keyboard will show you the number that you must aim for, and the number will change every week! Isn’t that ingenious? Ha ha ha. And there’s a time limit of five minutes as well!” Aunt Agatha was enjoying herself. “Try it now – the number is 30… the time starts now!” Priscilla’s mind was in a whirl, and she didn’t have a clue how to start so she started clicking in random numbers: 7, 10, 8, 5, so far so good, then 20, 1, 2, 7. The keyboard flashed a warning INVALID – NUMBER REPEATED. She tried again and again and again and again, then the keyboard timer counted down 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, “TIMED OUT. Bad luck, try again in one week.” “Oh dear, Peters. You’ve lost. No sex for you for one week! I’ll keep the keyboard and every Sunday at 10 am you will report to me and request the keyboard so you may try again. Fail – no sex for a week, Fail – no sex for a week, Fail – no sex for a week, Fail – no sex for a week, Fail – no sex for a week…Ha ha ha.” Pull you panties up and get back to work…ha ha ha ha ha ha ha …” Thereafter, every week like clockwork, Madam would summon Priscilla to the drawing room, and give her the keypad; Priscilla would nervously press the START button and furiously enter numbers, trying to add them up in her head. Would today be the day that she could beat the game and be allowed 10 minutes alone in the bathroom to stroke her member and finally have some sexual release? Inexorably the timer would count down the seconds, and Priscilla would get ever more stressed out as the damned machine kept flashing up INVALID – NUMBER REPEATED. Start again…more feverish numbers tapped in and again the dreaded INVALID – NUMBER REPEATED…the seconds counted down one by one… Priscilla was now fumbling and losing count in her head… 8 plus 13 plus 15 plus 6 was…how much? Was it 41, or 42, or 43? “TIMED OUT. Bad luck, try again in one week.” Priscilla burst into tears of frustration and denial. No sex for yet another week. How many weeks had it been since she spurted on Rolly’s bed? Was it 11, or 12, or 13? As the weeks ticked by without being able to stroke herself to orgasm, Priscilla began to take solace in the Sunday sucking of Clive’s cock. She started to enjoy it and she remembered back to her carefree days in Exeter when she would spend hours in bed with her girlfriend. All over the world, men woo their lover, giving her little gifts, flowers, poems, taking her dancing. It was the courtship ritual that always led to sex if the lady agreed. It has always been the case that women had control over their men by granting or denying them sex. Be nice to me and you’ll be rewarded with me opening my legs for you. Be rude and uncaring and there’ll no sex for you, young fellow, until you change your ways. Priscilla wondered if she indeed had control over Clive – granting or denying sex…but she came to the awful truth that she was not in control. Clive was in control and whenever he wanted sex, she was obliged to yield to him. Dearest Sissy readers: Did you enjoy that? I hope so. Aunt Agatha is a Bitch, isn’t she? Or is Clive worse? Love and kisses Mistress Rosemary Chapter 9 |
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April 2024
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