Dominating Aunts
By Bea
Three Novelettes of Male Subjugation
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Bea on Smashwords
Dominating Aunts
Copyright 2011 Bea
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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PREFACE
Male submissives often have a special place in their hearts for aunts. These ladies are often the doorway into effeminacy that some men crave. The novelettes in this book are devoted to ladies of this nature - and often their daughters - who like to dominate males and effeminize them.
"Aunt Rose's Place" tells of a poor young man, engaged into a wealthy family. Visiting his proposed rich aunt-in-law he strives for her approval and perhaps a position within an enterprise of hers. He succeeds only too well.
"Aunt Morag and Her Daughters" tells of a young boy who has a sick mother. Her sister is a registered nurse and comes to stay - and brings her two daughters with her. The boy is extremely grateful and is caught between his natural male instincts and attempting to help his aunt in every way possible. He unintentionally offends her - and has consequences to pay.
"Fanny". An orphaned boy is taken in by a distant relative - that he calls "Aunt". She is a nice lady and, trying to give him equal upbringing with her daughters, soon effectively changes his gender. The fact that he is small in stature, while her daughters are lithe and athletic may have something to do with this.
AUNT ROSE'S PLACE
"Come on for god's sake Janice" I snapped peevishly. "We'll be late!"
Neither my words nor tone impressed themselves on Janice, my fiancée . She was doing one of the things she delighted in – making herself pretty. Peering into her compact mirror, delicately applying touches of lipstick and blusher – dabbing a tiny powder applicator around her nose.
She kept her compact open. Obviously letting me know that she wasn't finished. Looked over the top of it, her gray eyes calm and confident.
"Peter? Aunt Rose will give us a great wedding present. Trust me. She'd be more inclined to cut me out of her will if my makeup isn't on right."
"Oh GRIEF!" I muttered. "Don't tell me that she's as bad as you?"
She dropped the hand holding the little brush she was touching her cheeks up with and surveyed me calmly again. "Worse, darling. Much worse. And? If you're going to keep nattering at me, it's just going to take me longer. Is that what you want?" Really want?
I had to laugh. "No dear. Please forgive me. I do not wish to disturb you Madame. Mea Culpa. Mea Culpa!" I turned then to look at the house where we'd been invited for 'afternoon tea' by her aunt Rose – a woman of supposed style, beauty, and, seemingly, much wealth. I'd never met her until now, and to tell the truth was extremely nervous.
I'd just graduated from college and needed a job and accommodations. Somehow, I had snagged Janice and wanted to impress her mother and sisters. Up until that particular moment I hadn't seemed to be doing too good a job in that regard. Her father was dead and they seemed to badly lack a male presence. Naturally, this was only my supposition – the way they looked down on me just gave the impression that they considered males beneath them socially and intellectually, but I figured I'd win them over sooner or later. Even Janice, the love of my life, seemed to constantly regard me with an amused tolerance – and I'd won her over, right? So went my rationale, anyway.
From some of the conversations we'd had – and I'd overheard – it seemed as if an easy way to accomplish this - was to win over Janice's aunt Rose, someone who seemed to be revered in that feminine hierarchy. I had pushed and prodded – gently of course – for an invite to meet this paragon – and the moment was nigh. Janice had seemed initially reluctant to make the visit, but gradually succumbed to my continual pushing. I don't want to sound venal, but I was hoping to impress the old broad to the extent that she'd maybe give me a job in one of her extensive set of enterprises. The fact that Janice was reputedly a favorite of hers actually made me more uncomfortable though. Suppose I wasn't up to her aunt's expectations? Suppose, despite all of the 'ins' that Janice provided me, I still couldn't score?
We were in a very exclusive part of town, but her house certainly didn't match her vaunted wealth at first impression. It had its own walled garden surrounding it – and a perfectly manicured driveway leading up to what appeared to be a small residence for the surrounding neighborhood of sumptuous mansions. I did see a small cottage off at the back – turned out to be the maid's residence – and a car sat out front. The fact that it was a late model Rolls Royce Silver Cloud, started to give the house some distinction though – especially when I discovered that it belonged to the lady we were about to visit.
I'd actually driven past the house on purpose, hoping to scope it out better. Apart from the driveway leading up to the house, any view was curtailed by a dense hedge. I had also been a little concerned. My car is old, and has a tendency to leak oil. As the driveway was concrete, I didn't want to put my car there – it would make an awful mess. Accordingly, I stopped fairly near to the open gate to the driveway and parked in a t the side of the road. Janice naturally saw this as a chance to check her makeup.
It wasn't far to the house from the gate, but Janice complained vociferously that the heels she wore weren't suitable for walking. She bitched quietly all the way to the front door. Just as we got there, the door opened and a very pretty maid stepped through it to welcome us.
"Hello Miss Janice" she said, curtseying nicely. "How lovely to see you again! Madam Rose would have welcomed you herself, but she couldn't have heard your car drive up, so went to make a phone call. I just now saw you walking up the driveway."
Janice beamed and went and gave the girl an affectionate hug. "Margaret! How lovely you look! New uniform? You look very pretty in it. But let me introduce you to my fiancée . This is Peter. Peter? This is Margaret – been with aunt Rose for years and years!"
Margaret dropped another curtsey. "Pleased to meet you sir." She said, smiling in welcome.
"A pleasure Margaret" I replied off handedly. I mean – I'm not used to servants but from what I understand, it's silly to get overly friendly with them. She stopped smiling and gave me a look that I interpreted as not being very friendly (as if I cared).
As Margaret led the way, it suddenly dawned on me how nicely she was dressed for a maid. I mean, her uniform looked as if made of an extremely rich fabric – almost like black velvet with satin 'enhancements' I guessed. Quite a full skirt, well supported by a multi layered petticoat with flashes of white lace showing as she walked. I shook my head. Her dress had to be made of some other fabrics, surely? Nobody is going to spend that kind of money dressing a servant. Are they?
Reluctantly, I pulled my eyes from her, and started taking in the house. Sumptuous was about the only way to describe it. I mean, it could have been furniture from Sears and art from K-mart for all I knew, but only if the furniture had been hand polished lovingly for about fifty years, and the artwork had taken on a patina that only seems to be acquired by museum quality paintings.
The place oozed money. It gleamed, it sparkled, it shone. I actually saw a beam of sunlight come through a stained glass window – not a particle of dust did I see suspended in the air! The hallway was floored in an intricate parquet. The sitting room where we were taken had carpet about a foot deep. That is, of course, an exaggeration – but I make the statement to show my state of mind – awestruck!
Margaret showed us into the sitting room, and said she expected that the mistress would be with us in just a moment, then left, closing the door gently behind her.
"Good God Janice! What a house this is! Absolutely immaculate. I'm really impressed."
"She has enough money, plenty of taste – and she makes sure that she has very good help – but here she comes now," Janice said, walking back towards the door which was opening.
She greeted the woman who entered with a tiny squeal and a big hug. I couldn't see aunt Rose completely at first because of Janice being draped all over her, but was astonished by my first impression. The woman I'd caught a glimpse of couldn't have been Janice's aunt! Had to be an older sister – and not that much older at that!
But, as they disengaged and I approached to be introduced, I did notice some very fine lines around the eyes. Same quizzical expression on her face that Janice often regarded me with. Same calm, gray, eyes evaluating me. She was wearing pale green silk pants with a matching, loose fitting jacket, a textured silk 'T', silver strapped shoes which, though low in the heel made her taller than Janice, and considerably taller than me. Her hair was well tended. Not immaculate, but natural looking and attractive. A large diamond ring on one hand, with a fine gold chain necklace and bracelet and earrings to match was the only remaining jewelry she wore. Certainly not ostentatious in any way, shape, or form.
She was lithe in her movements as we approached each other, hand outstretched – smiling, thank God! Again, I was surprised by the size of her hand as it engulfed mine in a beautifully manicured grip of steel. I did manage to mutter some sort of greeting – which pleased me because I was totally intimidated by this imposing female.
"Peter?" she said in an attractive husky voice. "It's about time we met. I've been nagging and nagging at Janice to bring you to meet me, but she seems to think that I'll seduce you or something. Fancy a girl as pretty as her being frightened by an old hag like me!"
"Aunt Rose? May I call you that? It's hard for me to believe that you're not Janice's sister – her younger sister" I said, gallantry oozing out of me.
Her eyes narrowed. "I love flattery – but not when it is too obvious. You may need to be taught manners young man. And, as far as calling me Aunt, I'd prefer that you did not. Miss Rose is my preference. You may call me that."
I was speechless. What I'd thought to be no more than a casual social riposte, had got me lectured as if I were nothing but a schoolboy!
Janice laughed. "Well Rose? You were right. I was hoping he wouldn't be a candidate for you – but he has really been on everybody's case trying to get an invite to come here. By the look on his face, I'd say that I should have brought him here sooner."
The older woman's eyes took on a peculiar metallic sheen as she turned to survey me. "You mean you know what I do for a living, and you still wanted to come here – and bring him?"
I looked helplessly at Janice as I had absolutely no idea what the woman was asking, though there were implications in what she said – and the tone of her voice that were confusing me. Janice was of absolutely no help at first, then relented. "No Rose. He's got no idea. Though I'm convinced that he'd like to work for you." Then she switched her attention back to me. "Aunt Rose? She supplies – I don't know exactly how to put this - Entertainers? To interested parties."
"Oh. Like an agent?" I asked.
The older woman drew her lips back in close to a sarcastic grin. "Yes. That might be an apt description. But enough of this idle chatter. Do something for me dear boy? Turn around, would you? Let me have a look at you."
Feeling rather silly, I turned around. She motioned with her hand, imperiously, that I should do it again. I saw the mocking grin on Janice's face and blushed. This meeting wasn't going quite the way I'd anticipated. "Lovely!" Rose said. "Now would you remove your jacket dear boy – and do another turn for an old lady?" Feeling even more stupid, I complied.
"A perfect physique," Rose said to Janice. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. I suppose so." Janice said after a pause – and, to my surprise, with a note of regret. "I really am still a little fond of him I guess."
I was confused. Were the two women talking about ME? I mean, nobody in their right mind would ever call my physique 'perfect' under any circumstances – I'm too small and too skinny. Not only that? Janice seemed to be talking about giving someone 'up'. At least, that was the impression I was getting. But Rose was talking to me again.
"Let me rephrase my question. Are you interested in working for me?"
"Yes Miss Rose. I don't know what capacity you have in mind for me, but I'm a quick learner. . ."
"Are you eager to please?" she interrupted.
"Oh yes. Once I know what is required, I will do my utmost to make you glad you hired me," I replied, my confidence growing as we got more into what sounded like a standard interview.
"That's good dearie. Very good. We'll see if you're as good as you say." She was talking carelessly as if she didn't care about me one way or the other. "Now? Be a little doll for me darling? Go and pull that bell pull over there beside the fireplace."
Flushing at her tone, I went to the fireplace and found a scarlet braided cord there that seemed to hang from the ceiling and gave it a tug.
"Is that okay?" I asked.
She gave me a cold glare, but didn't answer.
"Is that all right Miss Rose?" I asked again – meekly.
"Much better darling! Yes, you did it very well!" And now she was talking down to me as if I were a child! I was just about ready to tell her to shove her job and stalk out of there, when the door opened and Margaret came in. "You rang, mistress?" she said to Rose.
Rose nodded and pointed an elegant finger at me. "Yes Margaret. Take this . . this . . young man and screen him please. Is Alison around?"
"Yes ma'am. She's waiting for. ."
Rose interrupted after a snort of impatience. "Oh – tell her to dispose of that matter quickly. Tell her not to waste any time on it at all. Tell her that I want her to give you a hand with screening this applicant instead."
"Yes mistress." Margaret said, then to me. "Would you come with me please?"
"I don't understand. I'm sorry, " I said. "Screening?"
Rose sighed. "You've never undergone a screening interview before? Surely, college must have given you some idea of what the real world is like when you're going after a job?"
"Oh yes Miss Rose. I just wasn't ready for that just now." I said this hastily – actually astounded that a maid – a MAID! was going to conduct a screening interview on ME?
"Well then – off with you!" Rose barked. "I'd like some peace and quiet to talk to my niece. If you don't MIND?" she said, heavy on the sarcasm.
I wanted to ask how long this screening was going to take, but figured I'd better shut up for the time being. Chastened, and following a grinning Margaret, I left the room, closing the door behind us. Margaret turned her head and spoke over her shoulder. "Got a tongue on her, doesn't she? But just always remember – her bite is worse than her bark. Way worse. Trust me!"
"I'm not that easy to scare." I said with an attempt at bravery.
I don't think I fooled her for an instant. She stopped and turned back to face me. "I think she scares you right now. You ever get employed by her? You'll find out what scared is. When she chews on somebody? It's not always words she uses – you wouldn't be the first to find her teeth marks on your ass. But let's go and find Alison."
I wasn't overly happy with the amount of familiarity this maid was treating me with, but lets face it, I thought, if she was anything to do with the screening process, I'd better stay on her good side. At the same time I was surprised when she took a hold of my upper arm and started walking me forward. Not just because of the action itself, but also because of the strength evident in her hand. I got the distinct impression that she was probably stronger than me – and she was well aware of it too, I was sure. Her next comment verified this.
"Don't have much in the way of upper arm strength, do you? Mistress will like that."
"You don't seem to suffer from weakness, " I said with an attempt at flattery, wondering what she had meant by her comment. "Doesn't she like you to be weak too?"
"Heaven's no!" she laughed. "I'm a trainer – not an employee like you hope to be. She likes us – me and Alison – to be fit and in good shape."
"What's this all about, Margaret? It all seems very strange. I don't quite understand. . ."
"Oh you will, sweetie. You will. But we don't normally like to give out too much information at this point. It could screw up the psychology of the interview – and you wouldn't want that now, would you?"
As she said this, we came into another sumptuously furnished room. A tall attractive blonde girl in a lovely uniform like Margaret's was talking to a rather cowed looking young man.
"… and we can't be having this now, can we?" I heard her say.
"No Mistress Alison." He said softly. "But . ."
"Sorry to interrupt girls!" Margaret called out cheerfully. "But the boss wants you to give me a hand to screen this applicant Alison. Told me to tell you to take care of this situation quickly."
Alison grimaced at this news. Spoke to him. "Aw shit Pansy! I'm sorry – but my hands are tied. You see that, don't you?"
"Please mistress Alison. I won't do it again . . It wasn't my fault . ."
Alison shook her head. "Sorry dear. Go get the brush and bring it here. Git! Argue some more? It'll be worse for you."
The young man blanched and shot me a shamed glance, but said nothing more. Did a strange curtseying motion with his hands to his pant legs, then scurried away.
"Whew!" Alison said coming up to me and examining me with a great deal of curiosity. "Interested in working for Auntie Rose, huh?"
"I think he might be starting to change his mind " Margaret giggled. "His name is Peter."
"Hi Alison," I said holding my hand out. "Nice to meet you."
She grinned and shook my hand – again impressing me with her obvious hand strength. I actually winced a little. She caught on immediately. "I'm sorry sweetie" she said. "Sometimes I forget."
She didn't go into details about what she forgot, but I was too busy trying to get circulation back into my fingers to notice.
"Here doll, why don't you sit at this table here?" Margaret was saying leading me over to a round table set somewhat in the corner of the room. "Alison and me will sit right here – we need the room for writing our comments."
I sat in the chair she indicated , feeling enclosed as she and Alison took chairs on either side of me. They both opened up small drawers in the table and took out folders and pencils. Margaret did some fiddling about, getting her papers in order and perching a pair of glasses on her nose.
They both appeared to be ready to commence asking me questions when the young man I'd seen earlier on came back into the room tentatively, carrying what looked like a long handled hair brush.
"Why thank you for being so quick Pansy. Why don't you just bring the brush over here, dear?" Alison said kindly.
"Over there?" he said despairingly, then started "Please . ." then stopped as if knowing that whatever he was going to say was useless. Started walking over towards us as Alison backed her chair away from the table and smoothed out the skirts of her uniform. "That's a good girl." I thought she said as he approached her. "Take your pants down Pansy, and take the position." She continued calmly, half her attention on the papers in front of her.
He shot a quick, shamed look in my direction, but started unfastening his pants and lowering them. To my complete surprise, he seemed to be wearing scarlet, lacy, women's panties with lots of lace edging, and a garter belt in matching scarlet, holding up a pair of black seamed nylon stockings under his pants. As he approached Alison, his pants gradually lowered enough so that he could drape himself over her knees – handing her the hairbrush in the process. I couldn't believe my eyes – or my ears, as Alison looked at me and said. "Excuse the interruption – but this is something that needs to be done. Is it okay to spank this guy in front of you?"
"It's – It's none of my business." I said weakly.
She gave me a seductive smile. "If you would like to be spanked in his place? That could be arranged." she purred.
"Oh no!" I said hurriedly.
"So I should spank him?" she said.
I exhaled sharply through my nose, ignoring the pleading look I could see him cast upwards in my direction. "I guess so." I said.
I think he started crying even before the first blow landed – but I felt that he had good reason to weep before the spanking was finished. To be honest, by the time his punishment was over, it was hard to tell what was reddest – his panties or his skin. Blubbering and weeping, he was finally allowed to rise.
"Now Pansy? Go put your uniform on and do the library. Properly this time?" Alison said. "And for goodness sake, tidy yourself up. What kind of impression do you think you're making in front of this young man here?"
Horrified, I watched this travesty of a male make another pitiful attempt at a curtsey – because now there was no doubt as to what it was intended to be. "Yes Miss Alison" he wept. "Thank you." And he pulled his pants up, and without even waiting to fasten them, scurried away like a frightened little rodent.
Alison turned her attention back to me. "Now where were we?" she said cheerfully, putting the hairbrush down firmly on the table in front of her. I looked at this woman, suddenly conscious of her strength and authority, mouth suddenly dry. "Don't think we'd actually started?" I said tentatively.
"Oh, that's right. Thank you. I seem to be very easily distracted today. Now then, first of all, could we have your name please?"
"Peter Challis."
"Peter?" Alison asked, then looked at Margaret. Wrote something down on her paper. "Guess it'll do for now," she said carelessly. "Do you have any identification with you just now?"
"My driving license."
"May I see it please?"
I pulled my wallet from my hip pocket, tried to smile. "This seems awfully formal." I said, opening it up and showing it to her.
She nodded and held her hand out. I gave her my wallet. She glanced at my license. "Mmm" she said. "Terrible picture. This your signature on it?"
"Yes." I said, holding my hand out for my wallet to be returned. She stared at me calmly – and passed it to Margaret instead. She examined my license then closed the wallet and put it down on the table in front of her. Shoved a sheet of paper across to me with a pen. "Sign on the dotted line please," she said.
I started to read the rather small printing, then almost jumped a foot off my chair when Alison smashed the hairbrush hard onto the table. "Just sign the bloody thing!" she yelled. "Don't have ALL day!"
In a state of pure fright, I hurriedly signed the document without reading it any further. Slid it back across the table to Margaret who shook her head.
"You'll have to excuse Alison dearie. She's very bad tempered and any screening Mistress asks us to do does tend to eat up a lot of our time . . ."
"A lot of time? Can I ask how much?" I asked softly, not wanting to antagonize Alison any further. It didn't help. She leaned over the table and glared at me.
"All goddam day if you ask a bunch of stupid questions!"
"I'm sorry Alison. I just wanted . ."
"Dearie?" Margaret interrupted gently. "You're just aggravating my friend. Let me explain before she has apoplexy. We are going to be asking you a lot of questions. Asking you to do certain things that might seem strange to you – or embarrass you. Please don't be asking questions, or refusing to do what we ask – because if you won't do as we ask? Then I'm afraid that we'll have to do it for you. Understand?"
"Not really." I said, trying to get some degree of normalcy back into what felt like a Mad Hatter's Interview – then quickly added "Not that it matters very much." Happily, I saw Alison settle back in her chair in a more relaxed attitude. The ghost of a smile touched her lips, and I felt a distinct lowering of my fear level. "Fire away ladies" I said gallantly.
To my surprise, Alison pulled what appeared to be a stop watch out and held it in her hand. Margaret explained that she was going to run a word association test past me – and just respond with one word answers to the words that she would say. Did I understand? At my nod, she started to say a whole series of words. I can't remember them all because it lasted for about ten minutes – but I remember some: Woman, Boss, Power, Submit, Sissy, Dress, Panties, Bra, Perform, Sing, Dance, Mistress – lots of words like that. Both women nodded when we finished.
"Very good!" Alison said approvingly, putting her watch away. "Now. Have you ever dressed in women's clothes at all? Either completely or partially? Ever put on cosmetics – lipstick or the like?"
"Never. Not at all!" I said vehemently.
"Ever wanted to?" she asked calmly, ignoring my reaction.
"No! What IS this?" I retorted, my anger starting to return.
"A screening." She answered, still calmly. "And if you use that tone of voice on me again? The spanking that Pansy just got a little while ago will pale in comparison to what you are going to get."
I almost replied sharply, but looked at her confident demeanor and decided not to chance anything. She nodded confidently, obviously reading my mind. Looked back at her papers. "Now, let me rephrase that same question. Did anyone ever dress you in girl's or women's clothes?" She lifted her face and stared at me calmly.
I let out a weak laugh. "Well, yes. But you're not going to hold that against me, surely. It was my cousin – and she was much bigger and older than me, and it was Halloween, and I couldn't. . "
"You're babbling dearie. What did you put on? Dress? Skirt and top?"
"Dress." I admitted.
"A pretty dress?"
"I guess so." I tried to smile. "Though I don't think anyone would have mistaken me for a girl."
"Oh, I don't know. I'll bet that you made a pretty little – what? Nurse, maid?"
"Fairy princess" I admitted, blushing to the roots of my hair.
Both of my tormentors grinned. Alison continued. "And the color of your pretty dress?"
"Pink"
"And? Did you put on panties and a bra underneath your pretty dress?"
"Look! It was all in fun . . Halloween! – and it was a training bra too!" I added despairingly.
"Of course it was." Margaret said sympathetically. "And did you stuff a few tissues in the cups too? Make you look like a real fairy girl?"
"It was my cousin." I whispered.
"Lipstick and mascara? Bet she did that too?"
I nodded helplessly.
"Didn't forget blush for nice red cheeks, or eye shadow to make you look sexy, did she?"
I shook my head. "No. She didn't forget."
"High heels and nylons?"
"They were just open toed sandals – not very high heels – and knee-highs for stockings." I said with a rush.
"See? That wasn't so bad, was it? Alison said.
"I guess not." I admitted, internally very glad that this subject was dropped.
"Bet you got lots of candy," Margaret said with a grin.
"Sure did!" I said gratefully remembering the loot I'd got that night.
"So you had a good time? Enjoyed yourself?" Alison laughed.
"Oh yes! It was a super Halloween! My cousin even had a party afterwards."
"Bet the boys all wanted to kiss you!" Margaret laughed.
"Weren't any boys there. Just her girl friends." I answered, all of a sudden turning beet red at the implication of what I'd just said.
"Weren't the girls all put off when they discovered they had a boy there?" Margaret asked.
Alison snorted. "Don't be silly Margaret! They probably thought he was a girl. Isn't that right Peter?"
"Some of them did." I said miserably.
"They couldn't have called you Peter then, did they?"
"No. They called me Priscilla Princess." I admitted reluctantly.
"These must have been very nice girls. None of them tease you?" Alison asked. "I used to love teasing little sissy boys. It was very cruel of me, but I really did! I would have made you dance with me. Any of them do that?"
"They were all bigger than me" I wailed. "Yes. They made me dance with them."
"Do your hair? Put ribbons in it?"
I nodded miserably.
"What time did the party end?" Margaret asked.
"Eleven o'clock."
"All of her friends leave then?"
"Not all of them."
"Stayed for a slumber party? A sleepover?"
"Yes."
"But surely, you hadn't got an invitation, being a boy. Had your mother stayed so that she could drive you home?"
"Yes."
Margaret smiled at me sympathetically. "But you stayed overnight, didn't you?"
I hung my head and didn't answer.
"I know what I'd have done with him, if I'd been his cousin," Alison giggled. "Put him in a nice frilly nighty. Made him up. Do his hair, then have all my friends join him while he asked his mother if he could PLEASE stay! Spend the night with his new friends!
I stared at her in astonishment, remembering all too clearly standing surrounded by five giggling young girls, while dressed in a set of pale yellow baby dolls, my hair tied in matching yellow satin ribbons, pleading with my mother to let me stay at my stay at my cousins, because the girls were going to teach me how to put my makeup on. I could tell that my mother was perfectly aware that I was being forced to do this, but had pretended that I was actually wanting to do it because of the threats that had been made against me, if I hadn't looked to be trying convincingly.
Mother's smiling approval. The night of total degradation that had followed at the girls hands. Actually being 'loaned' a dress the following morning to go home in.
But my reflections were interrupted once more by Alison. "Well? For once in your life, it seems you acted properly. Put on a nice dress – with the proper lingerie of course. Had your makeup done properly – along with your hair of course. Slept overnight with a group of girls, and learned how to behave – how to fit in. Would that describe it? You had fun, just as you said?"
Knowing full well – or at least having a very good idea of what would transpire if I didn't answer properly, I said "Yes. All of that's true. And it was fun."
"Very good!" Margaret said patronizingly . "You're a much better applicant than I thought you'd be!"
"Yes." Alison said thoughtfully. "This might be a good time to point out that Pansy – you remember him?"
She paused. I nodded (How could I have forgotten?)
"Well? He failed the screening test. Not by much, poor thing, but fail it he did. Because he was so close to passing, we'll be giving him a second chance . . ."
"What would have happened to him if he'd failed badly?" I asked timorously.
Both women tightened their lips. Margaret shook her head slightly. "I don't think you need to know that at this time. . ."
"She's right." Alison said. "It would make you nervous – and we don't want that, do we Margaret?"
"Margaret shook her head again. "Not at all. Not at ALL!" She then leaned across the table and took hold of my hands in hers. Looked at me in kindly fashion over the top of her glasses. "I feel that I should tell you that what you just asked? It was very close to getting you a negative mark from me . ."
"And from me too!" Alison chimed in.
Margaret shook her head. "And too many negative marks? You don't pass. Period. You fail! And you want to pass, don't you?"
"Yes, of course" I said weakly.
"Think I should tell him?" Margaret asked Alison.
"Up to you," Alison said dubiously.
Margaret looked undecided for a moment, then obviously made up her mind. "I haven't checked with Alison, but . ." she looked down at her pares in front of her . . "I have you passing quite handily. We're almost finished here, but from here on in – especially from here on in? It's very important that you stress the positive. Ask too many questions? Say negative things? It won't go well with you. Catch my drift?"
I had actually been on the point of asking if I could withdraw my application but immediately figured that this might not be the appropriate moment.
"Oh yes Margaret!" I enthused. "Thank you very much!
She looked on me proudly, as a teacher would a bright student.
"Very well dear." She said "Remove your shirt and tie please. Alison? You have the calipers and the tape measure there ?"
I came close to remonstrating that this was going too far, but fortunately both women were looking elsewhere and did not see my facial expression, before I realized that I'd better do as I was told. Trying to look as pleasant as possible, I slid the knot of my tie down , then slipped the loop over my head. Slowly, undid the shirt buttons. I then realized that any kind of delay on my part could generate demerits, so just removed the shirt and gave it to Alison who had picked up my tie, and now had her hand out. Came very close to complaining when she just threw both articles of clothing carelessly into a corner – but didn't, when I saw her looking closely at me to gauge my reaction – then treat my jacket in the same contemptuous way!
I don't wear undershirts, never have. Both women were gazing on my poorly developed body with something approaching awe.
"Damn near perfect!" Alison was enthusing as she approached me with a pair of medical calipers in her hand. "Ooh! I must touch!" And, with that, she put her hand on my biceps. "Very nice!" she sighed. "Rose will be most impressed, I'm sure. Now dear? I'm going to take some upper body measurements. So stand up out here and just do as I tell you. Okay?"
With the calipers and tape measure, she measured a lot of my body that had never been measured before - in my lifetime anyway - calling out the measurements to Margaret who noted them onto what looked like a form. They also held different pieces of tinted paper up against me as if looking for a shade that matched my skin tone. Finally, after some more measuring, she said "Think that's about it Margaret. Want anything double checked?"
"No. Everything seems kosher," was the reply. "But I can't believe the body fat index! It computes out better than MINE!"
"Yeah. Thought it was going to be fantastic," Alison said, then continued. "Okay honey? Lets get the rest of your clothes off please."
Totally nude and shivering in a mixture of fright and humiliation I then underwent the most dreadful ten minutes of my life as I was poked and prodded – and measured! My genitalia and anus were included in the measurements, with some poorly muffled giggles from both women as my dimensions were called out and recorded.
My horror was compounded when, after all of the necessary measurements had been taken, Alison disappeared for a while. I use the term 'compounded' as though I was provided with clothes that hid my nakedness when she returned – they were provocative women's clothes!
"Now dearie? Let me help you into this. It won't be as comfortable a bra as the last one you wore, but it'll do a lot more for your figure – it's a modified 'Wonderbra'. Now the color is purple, and we know it doesn't suit you, but it's for a reason, so don't be thinking we have bad taste like this normally. Here, put your arms through the loops. " Margaret told me. "Yes. That's it. Now breathe in while I fasten you in."
Two horrible things then happened to increase my shame. The first thing was that the bra was very uncomfortable, but seemed to create a pair of breasts on my chest as if from nowhere. The second was that I had an erection.
Now, for some reason, the women had paid this practically no mind while taking my measurements, but now Alison was approaching with a pair of panties in her hand. "Love your breasts darling!" she said mockingly. "But time to get your panties on!" Then she noticed my erection – or seemed to. With a quick flick of her fingernail she contacted the underside of my penis – which shrunk immediately. She laughed and, from the sound of it, quoted some poem:
"T'was one inch long when strongly reared,
When lying down?
It disappeared!"
Both women cackled with glee at this. I was deeply offended. Almost said that I was longer than one inch! But thought better of that as well.
Helplessly, I allowed myself to then step into the panties, have a garter belt cinched around me, then put black net stockings on, and clip them to the suspender straps from the garter belt. Being naturally pale skinned, the purple lingerie looked very garish – and the black stockings only seemed to make my outfit even more tawdry.
Then? High heeled shoes! About three and a half inches. Scarlet red in color and fine looking straps. Tiny little buckles. I couldn't walk in them at all – just stagger about erratically, both women laughing at my antics.
Then Margaret came over, a smile still on her face. "I'm sorry for laughing dearie – but it's always fun for us girls see a guy try and do what we have to go through if we're going out on a date. Here, put your collar on." And she handed me a band of velvet, matching my lingerie in color. It had a buckle at the back, and a pretty bow in front. Puzzled, I fastened the buckle under my chin, then rotated it so that the bow was at the front. As I did this, I could feel a metallic ring hidden under the bow. Wondered what it was there for. Found out quickly.
"Very gooood!" she said. "Now if you'd just attach your leash?" and handed me a purple velvet cord about six foot long with a snap catch at one end. She beamed her approval as I attached the clip to the ring on my collar, and handed the leash back to her.
Alison appeared from nowhere from nowhere carrying a large black case and handed it to me. It was surprisingly light.
"Next part of your application, Peter. Very important. You are going to go through a very informal interview – but it's extremely important that you do well. We are going to take you to a room. You will sit at a table. There, you will open this case. In it, there are three wigs, and various hair adornments – combs, barrettes, pulls – all sorts of things. Also in the case are many cosmetics – all sorts of foundations, blushers, powders, lipsticks, eye shadows – just about everything a young girl could ask for."
She stared at me. "Now listen up, dearie. While you are being interviewed? It is important that you experiment in making yourself look pretty. It is actually more important that you try everything you can to make yourself attractive – than answer the questions you will be asked properly. Nothing – I mean NOTHING is to deter you from applying your makeup. Do you hear me?
"I think so, Alison." I said
"Do you hear me LOUD and CLEAR?" she snarled.
"Yes Alison" I said, trembling.
Her face relaxed, and she smiled nicely. Patted me on the rump encouragingly "Do well now sweetie! " she said. "Don't be making me and Margaret look bad. Hear?"
"I'll try Alison" I said, almost weeping with fright.
"C'mon then sweetie!" Margaret said, tugging on my leash gently.
I still hadn't discovered how to walk in the heels properly, but wasn't staggering quite so much as I was led down the hall – back to the room where I'd left Janice and Miss Rose! Just as we got to the door, it opened and a young maid in a most provocative uniform came out with a tray. It wasn't until she shot me a venomous glance that I recognized Pansy! I could not help but notice as she wiggled off down the hallway, her petticoats swishing remarkably under the short skirt.
I don't really know what I expected to find there – but it was still Janice and Miss Rose. They looked up with disinterested smiles as I was led in – and over to a table that had been set up in the center of the floor. There was a chair sat there, with a mirror placed on the top of the table. I saw though, that the chair was positioned so that whoever sat there could see his reflection, while perfectly able to talk to the other people sitting where Janice and Miss Rose sat. Nothing was said until I had been led to the chair, released from my leash, and had my case opened.
"My, Peter! You've changed!" Janice said lightly. "Been having a nice time?"
I had a great inclination to burst into tears! My fiancé sat there, seeing the humiliated picture I had to be making, and could ask a question like that! But I remembered the instructions I had been given by Alison and Margaret.
"Oh yes Janice" I managed. "Very interesting!" and slipped a platinum blonde wig onto my head!
To my satisfaction, I heard the hiss of her surprised inhalation, and Miss Rose laugh. "My My! What do we have here? Like your pretty toys there Peter?"
"Oh yes. Thank you" I said, clipping a pink barrette onto my hair. It was really ugly, so I frowned, and tried to place a black Spanish style comb in there instead. It wasn't so bad, and I knew that if I'd had more experience, I could have done it better, but I left it alone – then started playing with the cosmetics.
For almost an hour, I sat there, primping and prettifying myself as close to a young girl as I could get. Felt a strange sense of exultation in surprising my fiancé – because I knew then that we were finished. There was no way that I was going to marry anyone that had seen me humiliated – in fact had participated in humiliating me – in such a way as I had been that afternoon. Once I was outside those gates, I was gone – GONE FOREVER!
Miss Rose was impressed. She made no attempt to hide it. I had made absolutely NO negative comments. LOVED everything in the case, smiled and sighed, grinned and even laughed at some of the looks I applied. Finally, I had to admit, I looked like a SLUT! Glittering eye shadow, black eyebrows. Caked mascara. Blush spread unevenly over both cheeks. Scarlet, wet looking lipstick – smudged more than it should be. Platinum wig, curly and shoulder length - much shoddier than the auburn or dark blonde – with black ribbons clipped into the curls. I looked like a travesty of a woman!
Finally, Miss Rose applauded, clapping her hands. "Well DONE Peter! My GOODNESS! One of the best performances I've ever seen. Now why don't you ring for one of the girls, and you can join me and Janice for a drink, huh?'
Triumphantly, this was almost OVER, I went and pulled on the pull rope and then (I would love to say 'strutted') staggered over towards the couch and chairs where the women sat. Before I got there, Alison appeared.
Rose spoke, smiling. "Alison? I think us ladies will refresh our drinks. And get a dry martini for Peter. Now that I think on it? Get him a dress for the time being. The Jade green I think? Can't have him sitting around in his lingerie – can we?"
This made sense, because I had obviously 'passed' the test, but with Margaret and Alison in the house, I wasn't stupid enough to divulge my true intentions. I felt even more insecure when Alison, grinning, returned with a bright green dress – very short and very tight. It also incorporated an external, lace-up corset that Alison utilized to compress my waist line to a size it was never meant to be. Finally, feeling almost ready to faint, I was taken over to a mirror to 'admire' myself. I cringed when I noticed that my dress was so short that the minute I took a step, the tops of my stockings and garter belt straps were easily seen. My 'breasts' also seemed to protrude aggressively from the purple lace of my bra – which was also clearly visible. Then feeling like a prostitute, I went and sat beside my two ladylike companions.
Feeling totally intimidated and foolish, I stupidly gulped down the martini I had been given. It didn't help, so I didn't refuse when Miss Rose poured me another from the pitcher that had been left, not bothering with the olives this time. I was a little slower in disposing of that one, but did feel a little glow as Miss Rose poured me another.
"Well Peter? It's coming very close to decision time for you. Let me point out your options. In a little while you will make the decision to continue with your application for a position within my organization. You will be allowed to make this consideration away from this house and on your own. If you decide to stay – and I surely hope that you will – you're such a natural! – you'll be given training for the taking of an audition . . ."
"Rose? Sorry to interrupt," Janice was saying, "But I'm curious. Have you estimated what size of an audition it'll be?"
"A decided no-brainer," Miss Rose laughed. "A Full audition!"
"Wow!" Janice said.
I had no idea of what they were talking about of course, but felt that Janice's reaction indicated something special, so was puffed up with pride – even though I knew that there was no way in hell I was going to stay with this stupid program. I took a sip from my martini. Strange? I thought I had finished the second drink, or was it my third?
"The training will be somewhat intensive Peter, but let me explain. The more bookings you generate from the audition, the more money you will earn. Let me explain it this way; some of my clients have earned more than Wall Street brokers sometimes. You could be a reasonably wealthy young man before a year is out. (Sure! I thought. Wave that carrot around in front of my nose. You must take me for a fool! Took another sip from my martini – gosh it was good!). She was still talking.
"But there IS a downside to this Peter. I must tell you, that if your audition is not up to my normal standards?" She sighed. "Your earnings will be considerably less. Not only that? I could possibly have to sign you up for a long term contract at those lower earnings – which could really damage any chance you had for a full time career."
I was having difficulty concentrating. 'Shouldn't have those drinks on an empty stomach' I thought. But the old broad – sorry - old DRAGON was talking at me again. "Peter? But before you make that decision? A few things more. First? A reward for you. Janice has graciously decided to try and motivate you to do a great audition – I should have mentioned the fact that, as the talent scout that found you? She will get a small percentage of your earnings."
"Gosh Aunt Rose, that's very generous of you! I wasn't expecting that!" Janice said excitedly.
"You may have indicated a good eye for future applicants," the old broad said to her, "So I consider it an investment in the future as well as a small 'thank you'. So say no more about it. Peter? Wake up! I know you've had an exhausting day, but that is no reason for bad manners!"
Bleary eyed I opened my eyes. Janice was standing about six front of my chair. She smiled tenderly at me. "Peter? Come here and kneel in front of me please."
I found it very difficult to get out of my chair, but smiling in a maternal way she came forward and gave a hand to me. That made it a lot easier, and in a few seconds I was kneeling on the carpet in front of her.
"I want you to look at my elbow, Peter." Saying this, she turned a little and I found myself looking at the back of her elbow. I shook my head. It was badly bruised and scratched with dried blood congealed there.
"What happened?" I said, the fog lifting a little from my brain.
She didn't answer, just turned her back to me. "See the tear in my dress?" she said.
It was easy to see. "Janice? How did this . . "
"Now lift my dress up – bunch it about my waist!" she commanded.
I did, enjoying the sight of her lovely white thighs and dimpled soft knees – until I saw the large ugly bruise- and more dried blood on the back of her thigh, under where the rips in her skirt were.
"I don't understand. Janice . . ?"
"You will in a minute dear. Now pull down my panties. All the way down! And you can let my skirts fall now."
She stepped daintily out of her panties. "Hand them up to me, please," she said.
I did.
As I did so, she took hold of my hand. "Upsa daisy Peter" she said and, once I was precariously raised to my feet, she slowly led me back to where she had been sitting. She sat, and suddenly I was being pulled down into her lap. I let out a little squeal of surprise, and she laughed as her left arm embraced me around the shoulders, and her right slid up under my skirt and wrapped the panties she had been holding about my erection.
Horrified, and sexually stimulated at the same time, I struggled weakly, but she had absolutely no problem with dealing with me. "Hush Peter!" she laughed. "I'm gonna help you make your decision! Just listen up! Aunt Rose? Going to do the honors?
"Sure!" I heard, then the rustle of paper: Then the older woman's voice:
"Sub headline in local newspaper. Local woman, subject of hit and run! Today, police responded to a hit and run called in by a well known young socialite. Sobbing, she recounted how her fiancé had demanded that she participate in perverted sex practices. When she fled from his car, he attempted to knock her down. His car was discovered, abandoned, about a half mile from the scene. Witnesses described a man in sluttish women's clothes was seen attempting to sell himself as a prostitute – May have been inebriated. The car's right front fender was damaged and police are sure they will have a positive DNA match between the blood on the car and that of the victim. The suspect has been identified by his wallet and license found in the car. He is Peter Shallis. His license photograph is attached. Police are probably going to charge him with felony hit and run. He is from out of state, but knowing his home address, they are expecting to arrest him shortly.
"But that's impossible! I haven't hit anyone with my car." I stammered.
"Well, theoretically, that's true." Miss Rose said. "But it might happen yet, don't you think?" I mean, the stuff I just read to you? Janice and I just wrote it while you were playing with Margaret and Alison. Not probably how a real reporter would write it, I'm sure – but close enough for you to get the point?"
"What point? It's still not true!" I protested, my body undulating under Janice's soft, strong, fingers.
"But darling? Your car does have a damaged front fender – and it does have some of my blood on it. And? Let's face it? You are kinda sluttish looking – and, guess what? Aunt Rose has kindly taken a video of you putting on your makeup – and having such a good time doing it!"
I was woozy from the alcohol, and dazed sexually. "But I've never been in that part of town. I've been here all day!"
"Yes. Of course you have darling! But I think I'll have to leave now. Want to join me?"
"Yes. Please Janice. Help me get out of here. Please?"
She didn't answer, just pulled my own panties down, arranged her own over the tip of my penis, then brought me to ejaculation with a few slow strokes then pushed me to my feet after adjusting the waistband of my panties. Handed me the soggy mess of her own. "Very well dear – now go and rinse these out – and ask Margaret or Alison for a plastic bag so that I can take these home. Go ahead."
Still drunk, and still unsure of myself in my heels, it took me a while to do as she had said. When I got back, she was standing, handbag in hand, chatting to Miss Rose.
"Took you long enough!" Janice said pertly. "Here. This is yours." And from a table beside her, she took a black shiny plastic handbag and gave it to me. "Let's go. Alison's waiting for us!"
"But . . I need to change Janice."
"Don't be ridiculous!" she snapped. "C'mon! Don't have all day!"
Before I knew it, she had a firm grip of my elbow and was hustling me out of the house. My car was in the driveway, right in front of the door, with the engine running, and Alison behind the wheel. Strangely, she was wearing gloves. Though I was hurried into the back seat beside Janice, I did have time to see the dent on my right front fender. Even thought I could see traces of blood there, but couldn't swear to it.
"But you can't take me home to your house looking like this!" I whined after we had driven a fair distance. "What will your mother say?"
Janice laughed. "Don't worry darling. I'm not going to have mummy seeing you this way."
"Honest? Promise Janice?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die!" she said, laughing harder.
We drove on for another ten minutes or so. Then I just had to ask. "But how am I to get my clothes! Good grief Janice, what's going on?"
"Trust me. You'll know all about it in a little while" Then she tapped Alison on the shoulder. There's that phone. You can drop me off here."
"Where are you going? " I asked, panic stricken.
"Just to make sure that that particular phone is in good working order. Or would you rather do it for me?"
Thinking of how I looked, I declined the offer. "No. But please don't take too long Janice." I said, starting to weep.
She gave me a kiss. "You'll do just fine, darling. Wait and see."
There was something of finality in her tone as she got out of the car, shut the door and went to the phone. Totally focused on watching her go to the phone, take it off the receiver then smile, I wasn't expecting the car to move away from the curb quickly.
"What are you doing Alison?" I cried. "What is Janice doing? We can't leave her like this. Please go back, please!"