Mistress Psyche's Feminization Fantasies


Sissy Girl Stories


Anna Marie’s Pets

(Part One)

Story by Priscilla Bouffant

Please read along as Anna Marie Carstairs assists her daughters, Patricia and Loretta in the transformation of their husbands.

Our story begins with William (or Candice) in the early stages of his feminization. James (or soon to be Lulu) is going to be an unsuspecting participant is his own transformation shortly.

Chapter 1: Candy the Dandy

I carefully removed the hot rollers from my mother in law’s slightly damp hair. Anna Marie was certainly beautiful, as was my wife, Patricia, the older of Anna Marie’s two lovely daughters. As I sat the last roller into the tray, with the rest of the removed curlers, I daintily reached for the large can of Sebastian spray net.  I made sure I did this precisely and carefully, as Ms. Anna did not tolerate any clumsiness or lack of effeminacy on the part of her “girls”.  Though my training had barely just begun, I would dearly pay for any sloppy movements. Glancing in the mirror I breathed a sigh of relief as Ms. Anna had noted my cautious actions. She not only nodded as she winked and smirked at me, she commented, “Very, nice Candy.”

Candy was of course, short for my real sissy name, Candice. Actually, when they called me by my full name it was Candice Marie. Holding the can of hair spray high in the air with my left hand and the teasing brush delicately in my right, I gulped out a breathy, “Oh, thank you Madame. I’m really trying hard to be more girlish. Oh, Madame, please close your eyes. I’m about to spray your hair.”

I was required to call her Madame; my spouse, Patricia, I was made to call, Miss.

“Of course dear,” she said as she reached back and patted my girdled butt, and proceeded to shut her eyes. I say girdled, though I was actually wearing a cream colored, floral print house dress, with a ruffled, beige apron. The flowers on the dress were a soft blue. The collar of the dress was prettily ruffled, flared up in the back and was scooped in the front. The apron tied tightly with a sash at the waist.

My service weight, light brown stockings were attached to the garters of the aforementioned girdle. The girdle tightly held my private parts in place and kept me girlishly smooth in the area of my crotch. I was precariously perched on three inch, black, high heeled pumps, which I still had a slight bit of trouble walking in.

My difficulty with my high heels was part of the reason Anna was “visiting”. She was present to conduct my “girl lessons”. Part of these lessons included instruction in the proper dressing of a lady’s hair. Another portion of this training included schooling in high heel walking and skirt management.

Naturally I was getting a full scope of all the “domestic arts and feminine sciences.” My studies also included housekeeping, cleaning, cooking, sewing, and anything that would make me a more useful housemaid and an asset to my wife Patricia’s career.

Anna presently lived with her younger daughter, Loretta, and Loretta’s unemployed spouse, James. From experience, I knew that James had made a huge mistake in becoming frustrated with his boss and quitting his job. Our mother in law, Anna Marie Carstairs, would soon have a job for James; that of housekeeper and maid to his wife, Loretta and Anna Marie, herself.

As I completed spraying Anna’s hair, I sat the can of spray down and pursing my gloss coated lips, I politely said, in my most very sweet, sissyish voice, “Madame, if you so desire, please open your eyes. For the time being I’ve finished with the hair spray.”

“Of course my dear,” she again said, this time pinching my butt, before again patting it. She liked this teasing of me and having her way with me. It was her way of casually reminding me that I was at her beck and call as well as the beck and call of her two daughters, one of whom was my spouse. For that matter I was at the beck and call of anyone, male or female, that any of these three women might decree to have control over me, temporary or otherwise. I had sunk quite low and had become the sissified slave of these three dominant females.

From what I had heard, while serving at tea, the same fate awaited my brother in law James. At least that is what I had heard during various discussions between, Anna, Patricia, Loretta and like minded ladies in their social circle. I was not the only feminized husband among this group and I’d soon have more company.

Taking a small amount of styling gel, to the tips of the fingers of my left hand, I deftly applied it to Madame’s large, roller induced, dark brown curls, which I would soon smooth into a stylish page. I secretly found myself wanting my hair to grow longer. I still looked the part of a sissy in a dress.

My makeup was sparse and tasteful, although I was being forced to wear it more for humiliation then to effectively assist me in passing as a female. Though my ears were pierced and held pearl studs, again this was for embarrassment. My hair had recently been lightened and colored a strawberry blonde, but was still short and though not quite pixyish, it was barely long enough to set on curlers. A pert bow adorned it, mainly for the amusement of my betters, certainly not, to make me appear more attractive.

On one occasion, recently, when we had visitors, one of Patricia’s friends had remarked, concerning me, “Oh my, she still is somewhat Tom boyish, isn’t she Patricia? But she is coming along. Good for you Patricia! One day you’ll make her an exquisite, girlish, servant, just like my Emily.” Of course, Patricia and everyone present had laughed.

In other words, without too much scrutiny, anyone looking could easily tell I was a sissified, dominated, young male in a dress. This was quite embarrassing for a 25 year old member of my sex. Embarrassing enough to make me want to want to emulate and appear to be a female as soon as I possibly could.

I believe my “mentors” realized this and were delaying my progress intentionally. I had already met, though not spoken to, other sissified members of this social circle and knew they were very passable if not meek, dutiful, subservient, models of femininity.

As I styled Madame’s tresses my eyes welled up with tears, from my emotions gone astray. Why on earth would I cry, from wishing to be allowed more latitude in being girlish? Madame noted this as I completed her hair style. I finished her “do” off, sweeping her smoothed locks off to the side, and fastening these with a comb.

“Very, very nice Candice,” she said patting her sprayed hairdo. “Help me dress and then please do tell me why you are choking up?”

As I helped her put on her tight slacks, pullover sweater, and ankle boots, I thought of how I’d gotten myself in this predicament. There was of course, the loss of my job. Then Anna had hired me in a token supervisory position, at a cut in pay, with her firm. There, I had become enamored with not one, but two of the young ladies in my department.

I then made the mistake of courting them both, feeling sorry for myself as Patricia was working more hours and doing fantastic at her job. Her income was well in excess of mine.

When the two young girls found out I was two timing them, they reported this to Anna and my world came crashing in. I was threatened with divorce, financial ruin, and civil action for sexual harassment. It would all go away of course if I would accept, rehabilitation, using the unique, but time worn method of petticoat discipline. This would be all very temporary, of course. Temporarily that is, until I suitably could emulate a female, which would prove to my mentors that I was sensitive to the very uniqueness of the female sex.

My feminization had begun, nearly two months ago. I thought I’d made great strides, even if I was still considered a sissy. Only by being a really good girl would I prove I had passed the test.

I no longer went into work. In fact I was rarely permitted to leave the house. Never could I go anywhere unsupervised.

As I completed dressing Madame, she checked herself in the mirror and touched up her makeup. Pointing to the vanity, she said, “Get the entire makeup kit, and the hair brush and set it on the night stand. Then stand in front of me while I sit on the side of the bed.”
This was her room when she stayed overnight or napped during the day. I did as I was told. When I stood demurely in front of her, she began to quiz me.

“What is the reason behind those tiny tears my dear, and if you are going to cry, why not let it loose? It’s very frustrating trying to teach you to be a female, as long as you continue to insist on holding your emotions in, Candice,” she said, then waited for my reaction.

Gulping, I pursed my lips; my voice quivered as I spoke. “Oh, Madame, please do forgive me, but I just feel so inadequate lately. It’s just so embarrassing to be teased about being a sissy boy. After all, what will happen if I’m taken out in public? It will be so embarrassing to all concerned if I’m found out, won’t it?”

“Yes, dear Candice, that is correct. That is why today I’m conducting, a little experiment before our walking lesson. Now, get me the hairbrush and get over my lap for a little pre-lesson spanking.”

I hesitated and asked her, “A spanking before my lesson, but why?”

She glared at me and said, “How dear you question me! You’ve just earned yourself several more whacks! Now get that hairbrush and get over my lap this instant!”

I did just as I was told, scurrying to do so. Once over her lap she explained to me what her plans were.

“I’ve always had to spank you after a walking session for your clumsy indiscretions. I wonder if I spank you prior to the lessons if that would not encourage you to conduct yourself better. Now isn’t that clever, dear?” She asked.

“Yes Madame, that’s very clever, of you,” I meekly replied.

“Now, Candy, how many spanks do I generally give you after a lesson?” She inquired.

“I believe it’s normally ten Madame,” I said.

“Good girl, ten is correct!” Now, how many extra should I give you for your brazen questioning of me?” She said as she slowly pulled my dress up over my head.

I thought carefully, before answering, “Another, five Madame?” I asked cringing.

“No Candice dear, I would think you deserve more then that my sweet sissy boy. Higher darling, a bit higher I would say. Don’t you think you deserve another even dozen?” she asked as she slid my panties down to my ankles and began to massage my butt and thighs.

This worried me. Whenever she put my panties at my ankles, it generally meant she planned to assault both my rear end and thigh area.

Gulping, I agreed, “Yes Madame, another dozen would be most appropriate.”

Goodness, I thought, 22 swats in all? It would be most painful.

“Let’s clear up one last thing Candy, before we get started. Do you remember the rules of engagement, my precious little kitten? You must count each whack I give you, thank me for each time I strike you with the brush, and wiggle your pretty little legs like a damsel in distress. Of course, when you can no longer control yourself you may simply cry your pretty little eyes out. Maybe we’ll set a record this time. I believe you got to 5 swats during your last paddling before you burst into tears,” she chortled.

She was right, I never did get very far before I started to whinny and whimper. Before I knew it, the first stroke of the hardback hairbrush landed and I yelped, before gasping out, “One, oh thank you Madame!” I made it to six, (a new record) before I could no longer hold back the flood of tears. By the time the 22nd stinging slap of the brush had landed on my now bright, crimson behind and thighs, I was a blubbering, quivering mess.

Madame had done it again, reducing me to a trembling, shuddering, mewling pansy. How very shameful it was! Normally she would dump me on the carpet to let me whine and cry out in my shame. At times I’d even whimper, “Mommy, Mommy!”

Anna would say, “Oh my gracious, princess, your Mommy can’t help you now! You belong to me my dear.”

On this particular occasion, she must have pitied me, for she began to soothe my burning rear end with a cool jell. I t felt so nice. Just after she told me it was Aloe Vera with vitamin E she reached underneath me and placed the jelly covered fingers of her right hand on my soon to be aroused genitalia. Oh, but the tension and pleasure were so incredible!

Very, very soon, I was rigidly erect and bursting at the seams. One of Madame’s hands circled my buttocks while the other manipulated my swollen penis and balls. Then as I neared climax, she pulled my panty off my ankles and wrapped these silken beauties around my penis, to stimulate me more.

As my breathing rose to a fevered pitch, Madame knew I was ready to explode. “Okay my sweet sissy, you had better call out to your Mommy now. You had better do it my sweet thing or there will be hell to pay,” she warned.

Not wanting to incur Madame’s wrath, I squealed out, “Mommy, oh Mommy, oh this is so, so good!” I spurted what seemed like a massive amount of seminal fluid into the powder blue silken panty wrapped around my genitals. Madame had grasped the base of my penis at my scrotum, and milked and milked me until I thought I would faint.

This time she would have none of my lying in her lap. She instructed me to get to my feet and proceed to my room with the semen soaked panty to place in my small hamper, which contained my dainties for hand washing.

“Don’t forget to clean yourself up, pretty one, and change into a new panty. Then get back out here immediately and kneel in front of me. I want to clean up your brows, do your makeup and there are a few things I want to discuss with you,” she added with a wave of her hand as she sent me off to my room.

I half minced, and half tottered on my three inch heels, so out of sorts as I was from the recent festivities.

When I returned, Madame pointed to a cushion on the floor, at her feet. I automatically assumed this was where she wanted me to kneel. Before she had me kneel though she had me turn my back to her, so she could tie my hands behind me with a satin scarf. She liked putting me in some sort of restraint whenever she worked on my face, pierced my ears, brushed my hair or did any sort of salon type activity.

She felt this let me know I was under her power and could do nothing to resist her. She was right; I did not dare resist her for fear of retribution by her, her daughters or their friends.

“Now Candy, kneel on the cushion and hold stock still while I pluck your brows. Tilt your head back and stare directly at the bridge of my nose. Hold your eyes wide open. This may be uncomfortable, but beauty is a discipline and one must pay the price,” she informed me.

Indeed, I believe she enjoyed my wincing as she plucked the hairs from my eyebrows. Finally she acted satisfied with her handiwork, and she washed my face with a wet cloth before drying it roughly with a towel. She then took a sponge and began to apply my foundation.

“I have a theory Candice. I believe between the spanking, the masturbation and milking; followed by making you look very pretty with full makeup and some hair styling; you’ll strive for perfection when we conduct your walking classes.” She paused, briefly, before continuing.

“You had better prove me right, or you will be in for some very serious problems over the next few days, or possibly weeks. My social circle frowns upon sissies, who do not show progress,” she said, staring carefully at her handiwork as she used a pressed powder to touch up the liquid foundation.

Next, she prudently and painstakingly, worked on my eyes. Meticulously, she applied pink shadow, a cream, white, eyeliner, and crimson tinted, mascara. Finally she took a lip brush and outlined my mouth with cherry red lip liner. She then filled in with a softer shade of shimmering, coral pink lipstick.

Spraying me with White Diamonds perfume, she then took a brush and some jell. Teasing and brushing my hair back away from my face, she gave my hair a sort of spiky “lift” before attaching a medium sized red ribbon in the back.

“My you do look nice. Perform well today Candice, and Miss Patricia (my spouse) and I plan to reward you with a trip to Mr. Alexander’s beauty parlor. I will let you know after about an hour of heel walking, how well you have done. If I am pleased, you may ask Miss Patricia this evening about the three of us going to the salon together,” she said gleefully as if she were speaking to a child.

Truthfully, she was speaking to a child. In an emotional sense I was confused about the whole situation and was simply following the lead of Madame, Patricia, and anyone else they assigned to supervise me.

First she had me get up and then she spun me towards a full length mirror, mince marching me closer to get a really good look at myself. I was more then stunned. I was mesmerized. The painted, slender, prissy, feminine creature I saw in the mirror was no longer the old me.

I saw a well groomed, dainty young lady, with a short but sleek hairstyle. I saw pretty Candice. Nervously I turned to Madame, my mouth gaping and said, “Thank you so much Madame. Could I please begin my walking lessons? I do so want to prove to you I can live up to your standards.”

What had I said? I had never, ever, before looked forward to any of these terrible “girl lessons,” especially the high heel walking classes. What sissy in their right mind would? Yet, here I was practically begging to go to the living room and be put through my paces by the most demanding taskmistress on the planet!

Madame simply took hold of one of my elbows and turned me from the mirror, smiling and saying, “Of course my sweet, let us proceed. I already believe we have made some progress.”

It was difficult making my way to the living room, what with the high heels, my hands tied behind my back, and Madame steering me roughly through the rooms and hallways of Patricia’s opulent home.

Indeed, though, once I was free from my bindings, I did quite well. Good enough, that I was given permission to ask my spouse to make an appointment for three, at Mr. Alexander’s Salon Expertise. I surprised myself. Never before had I performed anywhere near Madame’s standards.

I had glided around the living room as if I was walking on air, and not three-inch spike heels. I sashayed like a runway model, and minced, wiggled and primped as if I was a debutante at her coming out. I felt at that moment as if I was the “Queen of the Sissies.”

Madame realized it and before we were finished she had me walking gingerly in four-inch heels, and as she said, “Not a moment too soon. You were splendid dear. I’m very proud of you.”

I was proud of my self. I had no idea why, either. Before she left, Madame gave me instructions to do my nails in a shade to match my lip color. Then I was to prepare a nice meal for Patricia.

I sat humming, as I painted my fingernails, planning supper, and thinking of what to say, when I asked Patricia to make the salon appointments. I still could not call her Patricia. I had instructions to call her Miss, only. I had to remember that. Any woman besides Patricia and Anna was to be called “ma’am.”

I spent quite some time on my nails, using two color coats that matched my coral lips, and finishing with a sealer coat. Then I minced happily to the kitchen to prepare supper. I was still walking tentatively, as the new, higher, four-inch heels were not a “walk in the park,” so to say.

By the time Patricia drove into the driveway, I had her favorite fish and vegetables grilling, a drink chilled for her and the evening paper near her favorite chair and reading lamp. If it meant being the perfect little housemaid, to prove I was sensitive to females, I would be the perfect maid. If this was the price I had to pay to convince these women to release me from this predicament then I would emulate a member of the opposite sex as quickly and perfectly as I possibly could.

I’m still not fully certain what clouded my judgment in this matter. After all, I had met four other sissy spouses in our group. Each of them had been in a submissive feminized state for sometime. None ever mentioned reverting back to a normal male lifestyle or anything close.

For that matter, each of them seemed quite resigned to their submissive, feminine roles. For whatever reason, I thought I was somehow different and would, one day soon, become an obedient, chastened husband who had learned his lesson. Obedient and chastened, yes, but never again would I be anything other then a sissified parody of a lady’s maid.

I checked supper one more time, putting everything on simmer and made my way to the front door. I made sure I had it opened to greet Patricia, and dipped into a smart curtsey as I said, “Good evening Miss, and my but don’t you look lovely?”

Indeed she did, in her chic business suit, her shimmering blonde hair pulled back and tied in a ponytail which casually and sexily draped over her right shoulder. As she came through the door she handed me her briefcase and said, “Thank you Candice, however I don’t feel very lovely. I would like one, very dry Martini, my paper and a foot massage.”

She wasn’t even looking at me. I put her briefcase in the closet, where I might fetch it should she want it later in the evening. When I looked up she had her back to me and her arms held up, waiting for me to remove her jacket.

“Yes Miss. Your paper is by the large blue lounger. I’ll get your drink and some cocoa butter massage cream immediately,” I replied as I hung up her coat, and scurried off to get the needed items. My heels clicking on the parquet floor, I returned with the drink on a tray and the cocoa butter in the other hand. Placing the cocoa butter down, I dipped into another curtsey and served her drink, before kneeling in front of her and removing her pumps and slipups.

“Goodness Candice, I would hope you’d wash my feet before creaming them?” She chastised.

Blushing, I got up and curtsied yet again before saying, “Of course Miss. I’ll return shortly.”

Once I had scrubbed her feet, I began to apply the cocoa butter squeezing her feet and toes in a manner I knew she liked. I literally became elated, when she actually paused and said, “My, my Candice, that does feel so very good. By the way, is something different about your face and hair? Wait, don’t tell me. Mother was playing beauty parlor today wasn’t she?”

I blushed again, this time furiously. I thought I would faint. “Yes, Miss, Madame did my makeup and hair before she gave me my high heel lesson.”

This comment went by the boards, as Miss Patricia then asked, “What time is supper Candice, I’m famished?”

I then told her, “Whenever you’d care to imbibe, Miss.”

My heart leapt, when she replied, “Well then, let us eat now. I’ll have you join me. That way you’ll be close by should I need your assistance.

She was going to allow me to sit at the table with her? Oh, my! I should not have gotten too excited. She sat at the head of the table and motioned for me to take a seat at the opposite end and off to the side. She also kept me busy, fetching throughout the entire meal. I didn’t mind, though as I basked in her glorious presence!

Just towards the end of the meal, she gave me my opening, to ask about the salon appointment. “I noted that you are in four-inch heels Candice. Is that something new? I had thought mother was training you in threes? You don’t exactly glide in those four-inch shoes, but I must say, you have made progress.”

“Thank you Miss. Yes, Madame just did put me in these shoes today. She told me my lessons went well,” I blushed.

“Is that true, Candice?” She asked, raising her brows. “Well then, tell me, is this any cause for celebration?”

“Actually Miss, she gave me permission, to request, that you make an appointment for the three of us at Salon Expertise. I’m to ask you this evening,” I said, hanging my head and looking down at my food.

“Well then Candice, I think you should ask me then, don’t you?” She inquired.

“Yes, Miss,” I answered, standing up, moving away from the table and curtsying.

“Miss Patricia, would it please you to make a beauty parlor appointment, for You, Madame, and your humble maid Candice?” I asked, nearly wetting my pants.

“Yes, Candice, I think that could be arranged. You may be seated and finish your meal. Once we are done eating you may bring me another Martini in my bedroom. Then you may perform the after meal cleanup,” she announced.

When I brought her the Martini, she had me draw her bath, then I made myself scarce, cleaning the kitchen, dining area and dishes. I knew Patricia preferred to undress privately and enjoyed the solitude of soaking in the tub, alone. Once everything was cleaned to a spotless condition, I walked to her bedroom and stood outside the slightly opened door, hands folded in my lap and my head bowed slightly. She would call when she needed me, or to dismiss me, whatever her desires were.

Presently she spoke up. “Candice, you may enter.” She was lying in her bed, reading. Glancing up from her book, she said, “There you are. I just spoke to mother over the telephone. She seemed enthused with your progress. I will let her make the salon appointment. Most likely she will make it for next Saturday.”

After a brief pause she continued. “I know how demanding mother can be. If she is enthusiastic then I am very pleased. For this evening, I would like some company at bedtime. You may go to your room; undress, remove your makeup, bathe, put on something sexy along with some lipstick. Then you may come to bed with me.”

“Yes Miss, thank you so much Miss. May I bring you anything before I prepare for bed?”

“No Candice, you are dismissed. Just do as I told you and pretty yourself for bedtime. We have much to discuss, and much to do,” she said, as she looked back down at her book.

I nervously undressed, creamed off my cosmetics and took a bath. I decided to wear pink baby dolls and high heeled marabou slippers. I took great pains to use both a lip brush and creamy hot pink lipstick. I knocked lightly on Miss Patricia’s door and she softly said, “Enter Candice and let me get a look at you. Yes, you look very nice, and very sexy, Candice. Get into bed with me. You may cradle your head on my shoulder,” she said, patting the side of the bed where she wanted me to lay.

Slipping carefully under the covers like a cautious virgin bride, I obediently snuggled into her shoulder. Oh my, being in her arms was such a wonderful feeling! Patricia began to speak to me of the future. Most of the things she spoke of, I really were not sure of. I was uncertain as to what she meant, exactly. I did not question her though. Why bother with that?

“You see Candice, in the next few days, weeks, and possibly months, we’ll be asking you to perform some tasks you may find to be unpleasant. Of course, our evaluation of you, will hinge greatly on the proper completion of these duties,” she said, paused and then continued.

“For all you know, you may be tested as soon as tonight, or possibly we’ll wait for the salon trip to see how obedient you can be. That is why it is very important for you to be alert to my needs. You should also be careful and attentive to complete any tasks Mother, Loretta or anyone else in our circle, may require you to perform. I must caution you not to let us down,” she said as she peered deeply into my eyes.

“Oh yes Miss, I won’t let you, Madame, Miss Loretta, or any of your friends down. I truly want to please everyone,” I lisped. I actually surprised myself by lisping. I guess I had become such a pansy, that in my girlish excitement, I had overdone it.

“Very well Candace, we shall see. For the time being dear I would like you to show me just how submissive you can be. Crawl under the covers dear, slide my pajamas off, and service me orally while I read,” she said casually.

“Yes, Miss, I would love to,” I said as I immediately made my way under the covers. Once I had taken her pajama bottoms off, I began to very, very, lightly, kiss, tongue and bite her clitoris. I wanted to make her nice and wet; then I would start in with my fingers, making slow circular motions, with light pressure, over her entire genital area.

She pushed the covers off my head. At first, I thought she was giving me some air. I was wrong. She took hold of my ears and turned my head so I was looking up at her.

“Listen to me girl; do not bite, and do not rub me hard. Slow gentle motions with the tips of your fingers, and nice, wet sloppy kisses and lots of tongue action? Got it slut? Do you understand me?” She asked, grinning and peering down at me.

“Oh yes, Miss, I’ll do exactly as you say,” I gasped, happy when she released her tight grip on my ears.

I continued my ministrations to her pussy, following her explicit directions. After a time, and happily for me, she flinched and let out a little sigh, followed by her saying, “Oh yes, baby girl, go for it honey, do me so nice!” This encouraged me to increase my ministrations ever so slightly, which she seemed not to mind at all.

Miss Patricia began to undulate her hips and her breathing picked up, which told me, from prior experience, that she was very aroused. She then began to gasp and say, “Oh, yes!” She grabbed me by my short locks, and pulled my face in tighter to her crotch, squeezing my head with her firm, strong thighs.

Finally, she began to pump her hips harder and harder, before bursting into, what I suspect was a very satisfactory climax. She let out a couple of yelps and relaxed, pulling me up to her side, where I kissed her face and eyes, all the time hoping she would grab my erect cock.

It was not to be. As she relaxed and nuzzled me, she said, “Well it looks as if you’re going to be fun to have around whenever I can’t get a real lesbian girlfriend for my bed. You do eat puss just like a little lezzy femme. Okay sweetie, off with you. It’s time for you to go back to your bed. I like to stretch out and have lots of room. Unless of course I have a big, strong, hunky, he man to squeeze me nice and tight after some hot steamy sex.”

I hesitated, wanting to ask her if I could stay just a little longer, but she’d have none of it. “C’mon Candy. You heard me. Get back to your little sissy maid room and your sissy maid bed. Mistress wants to sleep by herself,” she said, again speaking as if she were chastising a child.

“Yes ma’am. As you wish Miss. Goodnight Miss and thank you for the honor of serving you,” I said.

“You’re very welcome Candy. Sleep well my sissy,” she replied.

I washed my face and hands before climbing into bed and putting my head on my heavily perfumed pillow. I was near tears. Did she really plan on taking women to her bed, or big hunky he men? I sobbed a little before falling off to sleep. Of course this wasn’t the first time I’d ever cried at bedtime, nor would it be the last.

As much as I wanted to masturbate, I could not bring myself to do it, under the sissified conditions I was now in. Here I was, sobbing into a heavily perfumed pillow, lying on satiny sheets, wearing baby dolls and lipstick! I wasn’t exactly very mannish, or even boyish for that matter, at the moment. Beating off would have been like giving in to them.

Trust me; I didn’t take long for me to lower the bar. Good night.  

                                              Chapter 2: Salon Slut

Over the next week, Madame and Miss, both took me out for brief outings and airings, to prep me for my public debut at Salon Expertise. The ladies did not want me being too, awfully, self-conscious in public.

Madame began with little daytime strolls about the neighborhood. Three-inch high heels were the footwear for the day, as to not attract too much attention.

Prior to our first jaunt, she teased me by saying I’d be wearing a dog collar and leash. If someone who knew Madame stopped to talk, she would say I was Patricia’s new maid. I was walking so as too be more fit and trim.

On the other hand, Miss decided that I should do things of a more public nature. After evening meal and cleanup, she would put me in the car, and we would take brief shopping excursions.

She had no problem with me wearing a higher heel. “If you attract too much attention Candice, so be it. It will teach you to be more discreet and a little more daintily feminine,” she presumed.

She also had fun with the tasks she’d have me perform during our little trips. Her favorites were shopping for lingerie, having me purchase female sanitary products, or buying cosmetics.

On one occasion, at a lingerie store, she had me pick out the trashiest looking under things I could possibly find. Then she had me hold each piece up against myself. She made certain that there were at least a few ladies close by. Then she had me ask, “Miss, how do you think Alex will like me in these pieces?”

Rolling her eyes she shook her head and said, “My gosh Candy, do you want him to think you are that easy? Why do you insist on dressing like such a tramp?”

On another short trip to the drugstore, she had me pick up sanitary napkins and some medication; the medication, known to be taken by women during their periods for cramps, headaches, discomfort, and bloating. She had me make certain there were plenty of people in the store and in line when I presented both products to the female cashier.

In a clear, concise, moderately loud voice, partly doubled over and holding my stomach, I was made to say, “Goodness, I feel like such a bitch during this time of the month, don’t you? I bleed profusely and the cramps and bloating nearly kill me. No doubt, my pig of a boyfriend will want to have sex tonight.”

The young woman cashier looked at me her mouth wide open and a few people in line chuckled, or guffawed. As I left the store, I heard the woman behind me say to the cashier, “Don’t be too shocked dear. Did you see the way she was dressed. She is a common slut. She has no manners. The nerve to make such putrid comments in public and to a child like yourself!”

On yet an additional occasion, in the makeup section of a high dollar, department store, she had me pick out, and try on, several different makes and shades of lipstick, blush, shadow, and pencil. When she seemed satisfied with my selections, she asked, “Are you happy dear? Do you think you have enough cosmetics of your own? Possibly you won’t be needing to use mine any longer?”

Too late, I realized there were now several women, including the ladies who worked in the store’s cosmetic section, looking our way. Turning to them, Patricia announced, shaking her head, “What am I to do? This is my husband and he insists on wearing women’s clothing and cosmetics. I’ve given up, so I decided to let him buy clothes and makeup of his own, so he will stop using mine.”

Besides some laughter, I got some serious glares from a few of the ladies. One even said, “If my husband dressed like that I’d put him to work cooking and cleaning for a while before I divorced him!” Other women nodded their agreement.

If I were to pick out worst situation she put me in that week, it would be the trip to the all night store to purchase douche. She made me pick up lots of it and again, make certain that numerous people were in evidence when I took it to the male cashier for purchase.

She had me announce to him, “My boyfriend insists I use this more often, if you know what I mean?” When I said, “If you know what I mean?” I was made to fan my hand in front of my nose as if to imply that I smelled very bad. Then I was to reach down and scratch in my crotch area. The young clerk burst into laughter as did at least two other men. As I left the store, I heard a female say, “What a vile little pig she must be!”

With an adventurous week like that behind me, a trip to Mr. Alexander’s Salon Expertise seemed like a nice relief. Madame stayed with us the night before, and after a very early breakfast we dressed for a day at the salon. Actually, Salon Expertise was a full service, day spa and salon.

Before leaving the house, I was required to check myself in the mirror. I had changed quite a bit, physically, in the last two months or more. That was certain. I was definitely more slender, the product of always wearing a corset and a strict diet and exercise regimen, no doubt.

The fawn colored sweater dress I was wearing, zipped up the back and fit me like a glove, curving around the contours of my narrow waist, plump hips and pert new breasts. The breasts were what worried me the most. How had they happened along? I had daringly mentioned these vivacious little plums to Madame during exercise and she had merely waved me off saying, “It’s the corset dear. It pushes the flesh upwards and leaves fleshy little mounds. It’s your figure training darling. Don’t let it bother you. Once you stop wearing a figure trainer it will all go away.”

My hair had gotten a little fuller and I could see just the fringes of my natural sandy brown, where it had grown out from the strawberry shade Miss Loretta had put in a month ago. “That will have to be dealt with,” Madame had announced this very morning, in reference to the brown color, peeking through, when I had brushed my hair back and fluffed it up with some jell and spray.

Perched on my new 4-inch heels, I was a little more comfortable, but still felt as if I were on my tiptoes. However, I could navigate reasonably well in these, in spite of the height. Of course, Madame pointed out how shapely these heels made my stocking covered legs look.

My tightly fastened, new, long line corset and girdle combination made it somewhat difficult for me to take more then shallow breaths, and certainly compressed my genitals. At least my cosmetics had been applied not only tastefully, but also effectively, to make me appear to be a true genetic female.

As long as I didn’t make any clumsy mistakes with my movements or voice, I should at least pass muster among anyone who might make a scene should I be discovered. I was certain some of the people at the salon had been alerted to my true gender so as not to alarm anyone assigned to perform my beauty services.

Arriving at the salon, thankfully, Madame took my hand. I was indeed nervous. As soon as we were in the reception lobby, the receptionist greeted both Madame and Miss. “Hello Mrs. and Ms. Carstairs,” she waved. Ms. Carstairs was of course, Patricia, who had never taken or used my last name since our marriage. The young lady then picked up the phone and spoke into it, “Sir, the Carstairs party is here sir, and you left word to be notified when they arrived. That’s correct sir, a party of three. Thank you sir, my pleasure,” she said as she hung up the telephone.

“Mr. Alexander will be here presently ladies. Please make your selves comfortable,” she smiled.

Shortly, after we had seated ourselves, an attractive male of about 35, above average in height, blond, with neatly styled hair, entered the lobby, with a cute, perky brunette in tow. This turned out to be Alexander and his personal assistant Constance. He exuberantly greeted Madame and Miss, before introducing Constance.

By now, we were all standing and he peered at me. His green eyes, which most women would describe as “gorgeous” seemed to burn through me. “Oh my gracious, Anna Marie, and who is this stylish, absolutely adorable creature with you and Patricia?” He asked, placing his hand to his chin and never once ceasing to make maximum eye contact with me.

I could no longer take his incessant staring and I shivered uncontrollably before I nervously looked away, blushing like a schoolgirl and glancing everywhere but at this daring man. I actually felt like a smitten young lady and had little or no control over my emotions at this point! I was frightened!

“Please Alexander! You’ll scare the poor young thing away. This is my sissy son in law, whom we now call Candice Marie, of whom I’ve been telling you. Is he not precious though? Of course he wants to fully avail himself of all the services here in order fully transform him into the female he’s always wanted to be,” Madame exclaimed.  Alexander finally took his eyes off of me, glancing in turn at both his personal assistant and his receptionist and asking both, “Constance, Gwen, can you really believe this person is, or maybe I should say, was, a male?”

Both ladies shook their heads in amazement, and agreed that I was definitely “over the top” as far as transformations went.

Alexander then snapped his fingers and Constance handed him a small stack of papers. “Let’s see, Patricia and Anna Marie have requested their regular operators. Good! Constance, I see you’ve made sure all needed employees, are available to pamper my favorite ladies. Now, as for Candice Marie, I think we’ll have Daphne and Gabrielle perform the preliminary services. I’ll put on the finishing touches,” he smiled as he handed the papers back to Constance, and dialed his cell phone, which suddenly appeared in his hand.

“Oh Daphne dearest? Hello dear, I have a job for you and Gabrielle darling,” he laughed as he walked up the hall. He spoke for a short time, to Daphne, whom, I assumed, was one of his employees, before he returned to the lobby.

“Fine! Constance take the lovely Miss Patricia and the equally lovely Miss Anna Marie, to have their shampoos, then see that their appointments go smoothly! I’m counting on you Constance as always,” he said as both Madame and Miss followed Constance down a hall without either of them giving me a second glance.

Turning to me, and taking me by the arm, he said, “You will come with me my sweet thing, and we’ll get my two best ladies going on you.” He propelled me in the opposite direction that Madame and Miss had gone, and we went down more then one corridor, before arriving at a door on which he knocked and opened slightly.

I felt like I’d been in a maze and was quite nearly lost, I was sure. I was also scared, as Alexander’s grip on my elbow had been quite firm as he had practically drug me all the way to this room.

“Are the two of you decent?” he inquired through the slightly open doorway.

“Of course not!” A female voice sang out. “You can come in anyway and join in the fun if you want,” another voice said.

We entered the room, Alexander closing the door. Still holding me by the elbow, he thrust me to the center of the room before introducing me. “Daphne, here is the sissy I was telling you about. See to it that she’s given the deluxe beautification before bringing her to my private beauty room. Gabrielle, this is Candice Marie. Candice, I would like you to meet Daphne and Gabrielle. Daphne is the platinum blond,” he said before leaving me with these two strangers.

I assumed that the lady with the jet-black hair was Gabrielle, and she spoke first, with a definite French accent. “Okay, sissy boy, you may strip for us. If you are wearing something, you need help with, please let us know. After all we are here to help you, right Daphne?” She asked of the shorter girl, with the platinum blond plaited hair.

I did need help with the lacing of my long line corset/girdle and they were glad to help. I was finally standing in front of both of them, naked, my hands in front of my privates, when they each took me by an arm and guided me up on a table covered with a flannel sheet.

“Ever had a body wax before, lady boy?” Daphne asked. When I answered “No ma’am, Miss Daphne.” She said, “Then you are in for a real treat, my girly.”

Indeed I was. They not only gave me a complete body wax, which included my bikini area; they made sure my eyebrows got the treatment. When they had finished, I was stinging everywhere. I don’t care what part of my body it was, my legs, arms, chest, butt, anywhere they had located hair it was sore. They had painted on the hot wax and zipped it off. Ouch!

While I laid on my back, truly uncomfortable they decided I needed another “treat.” Two treats actually, a manicure and pedicure.

These were not so bad, except they did make sure when they cleaned my cuticles and underneath my nails, that they dug a little deeper then need be, with the nail files. Of course I’d jump and screech, and they would admonish me by saying, “Oh my gosh you really are a sissy aren’t you? Didn’t anyone ever tell you that beauty is the greatest of the female disciplines and you have to pay a price to be pretty?”

My next escapade with these two gorgeous females, (they were both exceptionally attractive) was a full-bodied massage. This was truly comforting and I do mean comforting. They put a warm, wet, wash cloth over my eyes, so I wasn’t sure who took the top and who took the bottom.

One of the ladies began at my feet, while the other took the back of my neck. Being massaged from both ends at the same time relaxed me enough to put me in a sleepy state. The stings from the waxing went away and my sore cuticles felt better. Their perfume mixed with the scent of my nail polish really smelled great!

I heard a whispering voice, French accented, so I knew it was Gabrielle say, “We’re turning you over Candy ass, so don’t be scared. We’re going to do your back side and some other things.” I could not have cared less. I felt wonderful. The wash cloth was removed and my face was placed in this extended support at the top end of the massage table.

My butt was lifted in the air and something soft, like a pillow, was placed underneath my thighs and something similar beneath my stomach, effectively raising my crotch and giving access to my genital area. Again, one lady began to massage my head and neck while the other, my feet and ankles.

To my embarrassment, they began a quiet but audible conversation. It did give me a clue that Daphne was doing my shoulders, as the unaccented voice was closest to me, but the content of the conversation was humiliating!

“Patricia Carstairs has to have a lover. I mean, she’s not gay, is she?” Asked the voice I knew belonged to Daphne.”

The French accented voice replied, “My guess is that she probably goes both ways, but I’m not quite sure what she would do with ‘Little Miss Thing’ here?”

After some laughter they continued in this vein, though they quieted down some when Gabrielle said, “Hush, the sissy might wake up and hear us.”

I was quite near tears at my plight but just too, too, relaxed to say anything. Just before dropping into a sleepy state again, I felt a well lubricated hand reach underneath me and grab my cock and balls. I startled, and attempted to look back to see who was doing this. Then Daphne’s voice said, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head girl. We’re taking care of everything. Go back to sleep Candy,” she added, putting pressure on the back of my neck and forcing my face back down into the face rest.

She held her hand in this position for about a minute before saying, “I’m going to release the pressure and let go of you, so just get comfortable and enjoy yourself. This is all part of your personalized beauty treatment.”

Though scared, I relaxed, as Gabrielle’s (I assume) hands began to stimulate me. Anyway, it was a pair of hands, and I kept my face down, eyes closed and imagined it was Gabrielle.

At this point, it did not matter. I was in a daze. I was exhausted, relaxed, humiliated and stimulated, all at the same time.

Even Gabrielle saying, “There’s not much here, but it’s nice and hard,” didn’t bother me a bit. Even when she added, “I’m sure Miss Carstairs has a lover now, Daphne. No way this thing would satisfy any woman,” I didn’t bat an eye. I stayed nice and erect. I never knew anymore when I’d ever have an erection or have one satisfied.

Finally things got quiet, and from what I though was the sound of a door, I think either Daphne left the room or someone else entered. Then for a long time, I heard nothing but my own increased breathing and some humming from Gabrielle.

Her ministrations were really getting me close to climax so I wiggled my hips a little, which elicited the response of, “Go, girl go. Getting close are we?” That encouraged me all the more and I exercised my sphincter and bucked a little bit. Soon my head was swimming and I knew a climax was seconds away.

Wow! When I popped, I yelped out so loud, someone covered my mouth with their hand. As Gabrielle’s hands were still on my penis I figured Daphne must have still been in the room. Again, it didn’t matter.

I was milked until I could no longer stand it but couldn’t say a word as someone’s hand was covering my mouth. Finally, the hands on my penis released me, as did the hand on my mouth.

“Rest a while sissy princess, you have a long day ahead of you,” said Gabrielle. I must have dozed off, because someone, it turned out to be Daphne, was lightly shaking me and saying quietly, “Wake up dear, we’ve got to get a robe and shoes on you. Alexander is ready for you. Don’t worry, we’ll put your things in the dressing room next to where he’s going to be working on you.”

I wasn’t worried a bit, until they tied my hands at my wrists, tightly behind me. That’s right. After putting, a pink terry cloth robe around me and placing three-inch pumps on my feet they pulled my hands behind me and fastened some sort of bonds around my wrists. I’d thought they were merely dressing me and before I knew it, I was bound!

Did I mention they gagged me also? That’s correct. When I made the mistake of protesting the bindings, Gabrielle hushed me and grabbed the back of my hair, pulling my head back. She then pulled me further back by putting her other arm underneath and around my bound arms and bending me helplessly backwards over the massage table.

This made it easy for Daphne to stuff a panty in my mouth and follow this up by pulling a scarf tightly between my lips. She tied this snugly behind my head. Then I was led out of this room and down another hall through an open door into Alexander’s private chambers. When we entered the room, he was primping in a mirror, which was in front of a salon style chair. He glanced back and smiled.

“Well, it appears Candice has been prepared for the rest of her makeover. Good! Ladies, I thank you and I assure you, that you will be properly rewarded. You may leave my paramour and me alone,” he said, bowing at the waist and making a demonstrative gesture of goodbye, with his arm, to Gabrielle and Daphne.

“Have fun, kids” the women echoed as they closed the door.

Scared was not the word for what I was. I was petrified. I had a very good idea of what might be going on. One of those “unpleasant tasks” Patricia had spoke of, upon the recent night I had briefly shared her bed. I only wondered how unpleasant it might be.

Talk about feeling totally helpless. I was bound and gagged, perched on four-inch heels wearing nothing more then a terry cloth bathrobe. Besides being in a place called Salon Expertise, I had no earthly idea, what part of the salon I was in. I had been spun around so many times since I had gotten here that I couldn’t have possibly found my way out.

Then as luck would have it, the blatantly homosexual owner of the salon announced, “I’m going to remove your gag, so we can communicate more freely Candice. Please don’t cry out. It will anger me greatly and will do you no good. This section of the salon is heavily insulated for sound and quite isolated from the rest of the facility and the outside. If you cry for help or attempt to escape, you will fail and you will be punished severely. I suggest you try your best to enjoy yourself while you are here.”

He paused as I shook fearfully and whimpered like a scared virgin; which, in the sense he would soon use me, I certainly was. “Candice, do you promise to behave? Nod if you do and I’ll remove your gag. I’ll then help you sit down and we’ll chat and get to know each other better, precious,” he said, again staring through me with his piercing, green eyes.

Frightened, I nodded my head rapidly. Anything to get this gag off and at least talk my way out of this. He smiled as he removed the panty and scarf gag, and steered me to a vanity bench in front of a mirror. He sat me with my back to the mirror, then he took a seat in a chair next to me.

Before he could say anything I spoke, in a weak, girlish, desperate, scared voice, “Please, sir, Mr. Alexander, please call Madame and Miss Patricia, so that they can take me home? Please, I want to leave and go home, this is all wrong.”

“I’m terribly sorry Candice but that is not possible. You see, Madame and Patricia have left. They had haircuts and I believe that was it. They are probably shopping, having lunch, watching a movie, visiting or home, for all I know. I’m to call Anna Marie on her cell when we are done with you. Trust me we are far from finished dear,” he said and I became more worried.

“Please don’t hurt me sir. I’m very frightened,” I begged.

“Of course I’m not going to hurt you Candice. No one is going to hurt you. This is all about you and me becoming closer. Very close, like boyfriend and girlfriend. So please, darling, call me Alex, or Alexander,” he smiled.

I thought, to my horror, “Boyfriend and girlfriend?”  Oh, no, it was just as I thought! Before I could say anything, he got up, and went over to a counter area in his private salon room and poured a cup of hot water to make tea. “Would you like cream?” He asked. I nodded, yes, as I didn’t know what else to say.

He sat back down, next to me and put the cup up to my quivering lips, saying, “Relax my dear, please relax, sip this and you’ll feel much, much better.” His request was so nice; I sipped and then sipped again. The tea tasted wonderful and he was right, it did help relax me. All too late, I realized, it might be possible that I may have been drugged.

After I had drank at least half of the cup, he set the cup down, picked up a wash cloth and patted my face, brushing my hair back, and cooling my skin. Then he put the wash cloth down and kissed me directly on my lips. Then he said, “I plan on making love to you. Part of the training your mentors are giving you will include me becoming your suitor. Today will include some light kissing and fondling, followed by you performing oral sex on me. If you don’t want me to give you a bad report, you’ll do as I say.”

I could have fainted! Perform oral sex? Great! I quickly struggled against my bonds and tried to stand up. He held me down. I pleaded with him, “Please don’t make me do this? I’ll do anything else. I’ll pay you money, anything but that!”

He would not hear a word of it however; he only tried to make it easier on me. “If you would like, I’ll keep you tied up. That way you can tell yourself you were forced, and that you were helpless to stop me. Besides that, you are going to do it Candice. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt a bit, I can assure you. I’ve been checked out, by a doctor, hired by Anna Marie, and I’m clean and disease free.”

Small, consolation, I do agree, but it was something. As I whimpered he told me to hold still while he made me pretty. He took a comb and can of hair spray and fashioned a suitable style. Then he made up my face with full makeup. “A girl should feel pretty when she gives her first blow job,” he chuckled as he stood me in front of the mirror.

Then, like the gentleman he was, he got a pillow for me to kneel on, and he held me by the shoulders while he pushed me, kneeling, to the floor. He unfastened his belt and zipper, letting his pants fall to his ankles, before lowering his underwear to his thighs.

“You may, kiss, lick, suck, and tongue me, but no biting. Close your eyes if it makes you feel better, and let’s begin,” he said, taking his rather large, semi-erect penis in his hand and rubbing it around my lips. Close my eyes? Oh, yes, definitely!

“Open your mouth, Candice, how you perform is important to everyone, including you. Start wetting me and sucking me. If you do well, the next task will be so much easier for you,” he added.

I had no idea what my next task could be and could only guess; but I would bet even money it was going to include his penis and my rectum. Oh my gosh, how had I gotten into this so deeply?

I decided, the quicker he was finished the faster I could get out of this mess. Besides, the tea had relaxed me enough, that I could close my eyes, and pretend I was Candice, who was being forced to do this.

As he had instructed, I took a good half of his penis in my mouth, sucking and flicking it with my tongue. This elicited a nice groaning response from Alex and he grew larger almost instantly. He then encouraged me to greater heights, by taking hold of the back of my head, and pulled me towards him. All the while he bucked his hips and thrust his pelvis towards my face.

I must say that at this point I took some satisfaction that I was doing the job well, witnessed by Alexander’s fully erect, very large penis, swelling in my mouth. I began to slurp and suck, even letting him out of my mouth for very brief periods of time, when I would then kiss all around it, and coo like a little bird.

He loved it! With his large member back in my mouth, his body suddenly stiffened, he swelled to untold proportions, and his sperm dam must have burst, filling my jaws with what seemed to be a huge quantity of semen. I tried pulling away, but he held my head firmly, saying, “Swallow some of it Candice. Every girl has to swallow a little bit. That’s it young lady,” he said as I gulped an ounce or two of that smelly, salty stuff.

Then he really got me by depositing the remainder in my eyes, on my face and in my hair. Some of it spurted from his pulsing member, the rest he rubbed onto me with the head of his cock. Laughing the entire time, he teased me about giving me “A Free, condition and facial.”

Ever the gentleman, he brought over a wastebasket for me to spit out anything I had not swallowed. By this time, I was sobbing so he took me over to the love seat where he untied my bindings and held me close to him. “Let me call Gabrielle and Daphne in. They can comfort you while they give you a nice facial and prepare your hair for me to color, trim and style. Then, don’t worry dear, I’ll call Anna and she will come to take you home,” he said, and I agreed with him.

I must have been in a daze, because when I did “come to” so to speak, Gabrielle was in the middle of giving me a facial scrub, before my green clay facial. It was a rather uncomfortable process, but she explained it would not only open my pores it would also remove dead skin. She then used a cooling jell on my face, before putting on my facial mask. I really felt silly, seated in the salon chair, looking into a large, vanity mirror, my face covered with green clay, a bright red, terry cloth turban wrapped tightly around my head.

After she had removed the green clay mask, Gabrielle then had Daphne take me over to a sink, sit me down and give me a shampoo, condition and cream rinse. While I was tilted back, letting the conditioner soak in, the telephone by Alex’s desk rang. Gabrielle answered.

I heard her say, “Oh about 10 more minutes, Alex. Just a water rinse and cream rinse, is all that is left for us to do. Don’t worry, she’ll be all yours very soon.”

As Daphne leaned me back further to rinse me off with water then lather up my cream rinse, Gabrielle walked over and said, “You are really very lucky Candice. Alex is crazy about you. Play your cards right and you could be a well taken care of young lady. He’s really very, very wealthy, you know.”

That was just wonderful! I was the main object of fascination and sexual attraction, for the blatantly gay owner of a beauty salon. A very nice full service salon, of course, and owned by a very rich man, but there was a catch.

Had I been a woman, well, Alex was very handsome. Of course, if I were a woman he wouldn’t have anything to do with me as a lover. As a sissified male, being forced to be feminine, well, I was just perfect, as far as he was concerned.

Alex was happy as a lark, when he returned and the ladies left us alone. He began by mixing my hair color. “I just spoke to both Anna and Patricia. They agree with me that Strawberry Blond is all the wrong color for you my dear. Your skin tone is not pale, it is ruddy. You need a hair color very near that of Gabrielle. We’ll do it in a couple of steps. Brown today, and maybe I’ll come to the house in a couple of weeks and you can go dark brown, maybe off black. We shall see,” he said excitedly.

As he painted my new shade on, he chattered about yet more beauty treatments and of all things, a date! A man was actually talking about doubling with my wife and me, with me as his date! How crazy is that?

“We’ll have to get you back in here for a permanent, my dove. Of course, we’ll wait for your locks to grow out. I’ll try to time it so we do you, just before you and I have our first date together. We’ll be chaperoned of course. By Patricia and her date of course, whoever, he or she might be. It will be fun. Okay, let’s get you covered with some plastic and under a hair drier and let this color bake in,” he said, pulling me my feet and holding my hand as I minced to the drier.

“I’ll have to get Gabrielle and Daphne back in here to help me dress you before I complete your styling and makeup. I’ve never laced anyone into a corset. Don’t go anywhere honey, it would disappoint me if you ran away,” he said as he left me under the hair drier, reading a fashion magazine.

I wasn’t about to run away. The damage had been done. So, did I think it might get worse? Not if I could help it, but this was not the time for an escape. Escape would come later. Right now, I had to lull everyone concerned into complacency.

Returning with his two trusted assistants, Alex gave me quick warm, water rinse, before he toweled my hair dry and wrapped it turban style with a second towel. They permitted me, to put my bra and panty on in private, before I minced out in my four-inch heels to present myself for proper lacing into my long line corset/girdle, figure former.

I slithered into the girdle portion, before Daphne pointed to the open doorway to the office, restroom. “Hold onto the top of the door, while we lace you up,” she ordered. I held tightly, knowing well, how hard these ladies may pull on the lacings. They pulled the corset portion around me before they began to securely fasten, the stays, making it difficult for me to take more then tiny little breaths.

I needed to sit down after the lacing and from that seat, I would slip on my stockings and make them fast to the garters on my girdle. Slipping into my sweater dress, I thanked Daphne when she zipped me up. Again, the ladies left the room, and Alexander seated me in front of the vanity mirror to complete my hair styling and cosmetics. Before I was seated, however, he made sure he caped me properly with a charcoal gray salon cape so as not to soil my pretty clothing.

“Let’s use some setting lotion and some small curlers on top,” he said as he began to work his magic. Once he had removed my turban wrapped towel, he took some lotion from a bottle and applied it with his fingers, all over my head. Then he lightly trimmed the back and sides of my hair. Once he had combed the back and sides down smooth, and combed the front and top, back away from my face, I could see how much my hair color had changed.

The rich, brownish color was fairly darker then my natural sandy brown shade. I then noted how thin my brows had been waxed, and how much this opened up my eyes. Dieting had made both my face and neck more slender, and I had really begun to have a very waif like appearance.

Alex started setting my hair, on the top only, winding the small pink brush curlers tightly against my head, before pinning these in place. Once he had completed my setting, he placed a hair net over the set, and tilted my chair back to where I was very nearly horizontal.

He seated himself next to me and started my makeup. Taking one of my hands and looking at my candy apple red, slender, pointy, nails, he smiled and said, “Perfect, I wanted to use a deep, rich, red, glossy lipstick on you anyway. The girls used the correct color. I trust they used the same on your toes.”

He leaned down and kissed me on the lips. I shivered from confusion. He smiled and said, “Close your eyes and let me do your makeup. You’ll be home with Anna and Patricia in no time.” I took him at his word.

I relaxed and closed my eyes as he swept over my face with a foundation sponge followed by a powder matte. Then he did my eyeshadow before he said, “You’ll have to open your eyes for me to do your mascara.” He followed the mascara with eyebrow pencil before he told me to “pucker” so he could line my lips with a brush. He filled them in with a lipstick tube.

Before he sat me upright, he spun the chair to face away from any mirror in the room. Then he sat me erect and used a blow drier, briefly, to partially dry my set. Removing the hairnet, then the curlers, he used a comb, his finger and hair spray to style my hair.

Finally, he attached, what turned out to be a white bow, behind my head before spinning me around to face the mirror.

He did fantastic work. As much as I disliked it at the time, I looked like a female. My lips were a vivid, shiny, wet, crimson, the rest of my face was a blend of soft hues, mostly pinks. My carefully, seductively arched brows made my eyes look big and vacant.

My coiffure had a stylish cap of bubbly, perky curls, at the top of my head. The back and sides were sleek and sculpted. The white bow, peeked out from behind about two inches on each side. It gave an air of cuteness to the whole affair.

Between my makeup and my ‘do’ I was a combination of sultry and prissy, at the same time. The cosmetics being mysterious and hot, the hair being overdone and fussy. I didn’t have to say anything and Alexander knew I was speechless at the moment. My whole look said, “I’m dumb, and I’m a slut.”

He led me by the hand to the lobby, having called Madame, cell to cell from his office. “Someone will be here shortly, love. Sit down and enjoy being off your feet. Turning to Gwen, the receptionist, he said, “No charge for Candice, Gwen. Goodbye dear, until I see, you,” he said as he kissed me on the tip of my nose. “I know you don’t want me to disturb your hair or makeup,” he explained.

Gwen rolled her eyes at this, for obvious reasons. Right in the lobby, her boss was kissing a transformed male. The big concern was messing up the hair and makeup of this sissy. She did however try to make conversation, telling me I looked nice and saying, “You should be thrilled. I can tell he’s crazy about you. I’ll bet the two of you will have a nice time when he takes you out. You look great together.”

I was so glad when Miss Patricia arrived. She seemed to like the way I looked and was pleased when Gwen said there was no charge for me. “Come along Candice, Mother is waiting in her Mercedes. You really do look nice, dear. You’re going to look very special once your hair grows longer and you can get a permanent. The darker color flatters you also,” she added.

“Thank you Miss,” I said, as she sat in the front passenger seat and I got in the back seat. Madame turned to look at me and smiled, saying, “Oh my you do look lovely. I knew you’d make splendid looking female. Wait until our friends see you at James’s initiation.”

I blushed, and thanked her, before she turned and drove off. Most of the way home, Madame, and Miss, discussed James, Loretta’s spouse, and his upcoming transformation into “Lulu.”

My goodness, what a silly name, Lulu would be. I didn’t really concern myself with even thinking about helping him. I was concerned about me. I wondered, if among the sissified spouses, there was even one to ally with myself.

I would have to risk finding out, or resign myself to a life of feminine servitude.

                                                     End of Part One

Coming in the future: James becomes Lulu. Alexander visits Candice. Patricia takes a young male lover. Salon slut again? A double date. Candice makes some friends. Maybe we’ll have a surprise end.

 I’d like to thank, my greatest benefactor, Her Ladyship, The Grand Mistress Princess Lynne, for all the kindness and support she has given me. Thank you your Royal Ladyship, from a humble sissy, prissy.


Sissy Girl Stories