Fancy

Ms. Louise

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fancy's Birching

Part 1

    A broad smile crossed my face as i walked around the grove of European White birch trees that surrounded the Academy. i snipped the branches with the garden tool i had recently purchased remembering Her every word.
    Each twig had to be strong and thin and flexible. i tested each branch for suppleness and pliability, and then held each at eye level to make certain they were as straight as possible.
    This bundle of rods would become the very symbol of correction for me that it been throughout history. It was a peculiarly feminine instrument of discipline that suited Mistress Louise perfectly. i’d make sure the bundle was perfectly balanced and gracefully tapered to fit Her tiny manicured hand.
    “We will reserve the birch for you and your other sisters who may come for instruction. No more corporal punishment darling, just corporal encouragements.” As i remembered Her lecture, i could almost feel the birches intimate and severe sting.
    i’d never felt freer, more in touch with myself or more at ease. The instruction had been dreadfully painful, but Mistress had given me time to accept reality and had allowed me to lean on Her strength.
    i had always known about my weakness for strong Women, but Mistress Louise possessed an aura of strength and command that i found irresistible. she was uncommonly beautiful and keenly intelligent. But there was something more. She had a sense of Female Authority that bore my submissive’s heart. Louse had an air of poise and containment that told the world that She was not only in control of Herself, but anyone who came into close contact with Her. Of course She knew my every weakness and understood every facet of my personality.
    i was born to be transformed, to be altered. She had the skills to make me become compliant and malleable.
    “And what have you learned Ms. Fancypants,” She would ask with a mocking purr in Her voice. Each word was chosen to allow me every opportunity to expose my male weaknesses, to keep me confused, aroused and unable to utter even one word that didn’t expose how I hopelessly adored Her.
    “i am a sissy Miss, a sissy that has denied the truth for too long.” This much was true. For so long the world around me had said that I was twisted, abnormal, perverted. i grew to hate that side of me, the flamboyant side that hungered for pretty panties and fragrant perfumes. If only i had been born a woman. A beautiful elegant woman like Louise.
    But i wasn’t. She knew that until i came to grips with reality i would be isolated and unable to connect in a meaningful way.
    “you mistake pleasure with happiness,” She lectured. “Playing with your little cock may very well be pleasurable, but, until you can conquer your obsessions, you’ll never be content, never really happy.”
    So my instructions began with Louise teaching me to view my feelings as tools, and my attitude as manifestations of my personality that weren’t normal or abnormal.
    The first step was to take away my masturbatory obsession. She accomplished that with a chastity device, made of highly polished chromed steel. Once satisfied that my male appendage was useless, She voiced a simple command, “Bend over sissy and stick your bottom out.” She applied a gob of grease to Her gloved hand.
    As i finished reflecting, the bundle of birch trimmings had grown to fifteen rods, each almost thirty inches long. i sat down on a fallen tree with them over my lap and carefully wound a colorful orchid ribbon around the bundle in the best Victorian style. It was an admirable birch capable of taming the shrew out of any sissy.
    i hurried back to the manor house and placed the birch rods into a large pail of water to absorb and retain some water. She taught me that this will ensure their long life and provide the unique whippy sting of the rod.
    i then hurried off to prepare for the evening. i wore dark thigh top nylons that evening. The nylons framed my buttocks for Her. We stood in a large basement room, lit only by torches. There was an eerie glow on the walls. i had expected to see a traditional birching bench complete with thick bondage straps, but instead i found a simple A-framed trestle made of rough sawn wood.
    Mistress Louise stood behind me, placed Her thumb and index finger of each hand on the lacy tops of my pastel knickers and slowly turned them over and down. It was an agonizingly slow descent that made me acutely aware of my nakedness and vulnerability as inch after inch of my hips and buttocks were uncovered.
    “Come along,” She ordered. i hobbled obediently behind Her with my ankles fettered by soft nylons. When we reached the trestle, Louise removed a red ribbon from Her hair and tied my wrists tightly together behind my back.
    She gave each side of my derriere an encouraging slap. A slap hard enough that my cubby backside wobbled and quivered. So She gleefully slapped them again. “Up and over now darling,” She said.
    i stood on my tiptoes straining till the bar was below my waist, then dipped forward and suddenly began teetering in a most helpless position. i rocked back and forth. My nose scraped the ground. As i moved forward and my newly painted toenails touched with i rocked back and forth. i tried to throw my weight to one side, then the other, but with my arms tied, i couldn’t gain the necessary momentum. The trestle was an outrageously simple and fiendish contraption. No need here for straps, manacles or ropes. Just the simple laws of physics imprisoned me.
    Mistress Louse laughed softly, then stood back to enjoy my helplessness. She left me teetering for slightly over an hour. i trembled with fear, every solitary second that passed. my ignominious position was all too frightening. my bottom was so brutally expose, so open and vulnerable.
    “Are you ready for ME darling?”
    i twisted my head quickly to catch a glimpse of Her in the wall mirror. Except for thigh high boots, She was naked. Her curly hair danced as She moved with the grace of a gazelle while swishing a bundle of birches through the air.
    A slightly curved, scarlet-red dildo was strapped to Her crotch, it glistened in the dim light, covered with a thick lubrication.
    “Yes, Mistress. i’m ready,” i whispered. i smiled just as my first drip hit the basement floor.

Part 2

    Later that year Mistress Louise published an account of Her work in the New England Journal of Female Supremacy. She called the scholarly work “Subjugation of the Sissified Male through Prostate Milking and Anal Servitude,” and naturally Mistresses worldwide embraced it as the basic tenant of Forced Feminization. The regal Louise was named Domina of the Year for the third consecutive time and began another round of talk show visits.
    As for me, my life was changed forever. i was destined to become a Sissy Maid at the Studio occupying the very bottom of the food chain; i couldn’t have been happier. Only you readers who have already been feminized can understand my sensuous journey from pants to panties and the thrill of being a slave to everything Feminine. But i’m getting ahead of my story.
    Mistress Louise appointed a lifetime transvestite named Fiona to be my Instructress. She had been born Stanslaus in Estonia, to a rich father and a beautiful mother who had little time for the frail, effeminate, willowy blonde boy. When he became a troublesome teen he had been shipped to a German Governess named Magda, who quickly recognized his androgynous beauty and set about correcting his boyish faults with silk and satin.
    The pretty boy was easily molded into a pretty gurl by the skilled, mature Dominatrix. she accented his high cheek bones, wide blue eyes, and full pouty lips with makeup. She pampered him with bubble baths and skin softening creams and oils. And if he had an “accident” when her soapy hand lingered between his legs, well of course he should be disciplined!
    Magda chose her afternoon tea time for his correction so that her influential circle of rich female friends could enjoy his humiliation and the beauty of his flawless porcelain body. He possessed a rare combination of the male-female beauty; a plump heart shaped derriere, thick pink nipples, and a beautiful cock that always brought comments and sighs from everyone.
    She preferred the intimacy of having the naked boy over her knee with his stiff cock imprisoned between her soft thighs and his legs lewdly spread to reveal his tiny pink flower that everyone agreed she was violating. Magda delivered a searing lecture that chronicled his every indiscretion then spanked him till his plump white buttocks turned crimson red and he writhed on her lap so close to orgasm it took every ounce of his will power to control himself.
    All the girls enjoyed the ride home in their limousines, some hardly being seated before their fingers began dancing between their legs.
    He’d become a genderless boy/gurl by the time he was eighteen. Magda popped his cherry with a ribbed strap-on dildo that her female friends were all too familiar with. They fucked until dawn and then slept until noon, wrapped in each others arms. Both talked later about how close they had come to death during the orgasms they shared.
    He/she had become a classic example of erotic overindulgence. Fiona as she was known, frequented the trendy Fetish clubs in Hamburg where everyone’s dick was on display and casual cock sucking was the rule rather than the exception.
    She had the long shapely legs of a chorus girl and the exaggerated walk of a runway model. each night on the dance floor she struck sexual poses and pranced to the heavy electric music arousing everyone with her suggestive fanny shaking.
    By the time they met, Louise had appeared on the cover of “People” twice and had gained “Diva” status. MLD joined the ranks of “Liza”, Cher and Madonna and there wasn’t a Drag Show on the continent that hadn’t added Her to the list of impersonations.
    The “in” club in Paris that year was “Le Depot” the kind of grimy dark underground bar you wouldn’t want to get lost in without a condom and a compass. Everyone wore little plaid skirts and knee socks designed by Church administrators you just had to love. Skinny boys with nose rings and spiked-hair shook their asses next to skinny girls with tongue rings and purple-hair. Euro-trash from all over the continent flashed their panties in hopes that a Master or Mistress would order them to their knees and they were rarely disappointed.
    Fiona as Mistress of Ceremonies came on stage in the black bra and girdle set that had become the MLD trademark and circled the stage once, swinging her hips and tossing her curly hair. She led a crawling boy and girl slave with a velvet leash then ordered them away with slaps to their precious little buttocks.
    She stopped with her back to the audience and cocked a curvy hip. With a coy look over her shoulder she spoke in a low throaty purr that exactly mimicked Louise: “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, Who’s got the most beautiful ass of all?!”
    The appreciative audience hooted and hollered, “You do Mistress Louise,” they all shouted!
    A beautiful young lipstick Lesbian swooned and feinted, a Master from Belgium charged the stage, hoping to press his lips to the sumptuous backside. Everyone roared their approval, as she brought the house down.
    A good-natured Louise joined Fiona on stage at the end of her act and rewarded her efforts with a lengthy smothering that left her breathless and very much in love. The picture appeared on the cover of “Star” magazine the following week.

                                                                            Part 3

    i knew from the moment i saw her that she was the perfect role-model for an omni sexual whore like me and would lead me from decadence to depravity as quickly as possible.
    We began with an introduction to hair, makeup and nails. Next came perfumes and powders. She taught me the importance of daily douches and cleansing enemas, as well as how useful a bidet really can be to gurls like us.
    One day during a shaving, Fiona said, “Soon, Mistress will unlock your chastity device and you’ll be allowed to perform with the rest of the sissies.” i was stunned! The notion had never crossed my puny mind before. i rarely thought of my little cock anymore. In fact, i only thought of it when i sat down to pee like a proper gurl, even then i called it my clit.
    The only cock on my mind had been the eight-inch ruby red silicone phallus that Louise was so fond of strapping to Her precious crotch and i doubted that i was strong enough to even consider the thought of using my cock again.
    “Will that really happen?” i asked, but Fiona only smiled. “you’ll learn soon enough,” she said, then gave my bottom a playful slap.
    As i lay bound in my bed that night, i knew that the stories i’ve always heard were true. i was being trained to perform sexually to amuse Her and Her female guests and I felt a strange stirring between my legs. A huge rush of blood surged through my body as hot lava from a volcano, thickening my clit inside it’s chrome sheath. i had a full-fledged erection inside my flowered baby doll panties, yet strangely felt more feminine than ever!
    my serious training began with a punishing whale boned Victorian corset that Fiona tightened and retightened till i almost feinted, but that wasn’t enough for her. She tethered my arms in a leather bondage sleeve that forced my shoulders back and my breasts out in an agonizing fetter! She enjoyed the sight so much that she sucked my nipples till i swooned, then cruelly clamped them so they would stay erect.
    Slowly, the corset molded my body to her wishes. my waist thinned, my bosom flared, i had an hourglass figure that would turn men’s heads and i felt deliciously wicked.
    She brought me seamed nylons and Bettie Page opera length silk stockings with elastic tops. i felt so sexy. i thought i’d cream into my high wasted nylon panties. It was an intoxicating world of tight garter belts, circled stitched bras and waist cinchers. Long line bras restricted my body and Lycra girdles molded my hips and bottom. i was such a willing prisoner to nylon stockings and pink satin garters.
    She taught me to walk in six-inch stiletto heels with hobbles around my thighs and ankles that restricted each step to a few inches. The whispered rustling of my silk thighs reminded me of beautiful Louise and the memories i had of peeking under Her skirts. i missed Her and the wonderful whippings She’d given me for my naughtiness.
    “Tits and ass out, gurl,” Fiona would order with a pinch or pat as i practiced walking. If i did something well, she rewarded me with a little kiss. If i failed, she fetched her long handled wooden hairbrush, the same model Mistress Louise always carried in Her purse and scorched me good.
    my training intensified. If i was sassy, Fiona filled my mouth with a rubber ball gag for the entire day. If i didn’t work hard she made me suck a cock-pacifier for hours, saying, “If a gurl like you has too much time on her hands, it’s because you haven’t spent enough time on your knees. Now suck it baby!” When i became clumsy, she whipped my thighs with a bamboo switch. If i was impatient, i was bound and hung upside down with a red gallon enema bag suspended form a ceiling hook between my legs, the tube would be set to a maddeningly slow drip.
    But every day, i got better and better.
    When Mistress Louise finally came to check on my progress, i was a content and accomplished sissy! Fiona had spent hours preparing me for the first inspection, even ironing my satin uniform, starching my petticoats and lacing my scrotum into a tiny latex reduction trainer.
    “Present yourself to you Mistress,” Fiona said with a grin. i took a deep breath, carefully crossed my feet and bent forward at the waist till i comfortably grasped each ankle. i felt my little skirt rise and my suspenders stretch as the tugged at my fishnet stockings.
    Fiona and i had practiced the move over and over, then examined the videotapes for the slightest fault. It was a decidedly Feminine posture, made more difficult by pencil thin six inch heels. i’d felt Fiona’s frustration at my clumsiness with the repeated swish of a cane, that welted my fanny. But this time, it was perfect!
    i had carefully chosen my sheer black nylon knickers. No ruffles or bows, just a wisp of cloth hugging a chubby sissy derriere; the kind of derriere that a Mistress couldn’t resist paddling and secretly i hoped for more. i knew i was hot!
    i held the position for an hour while Louise rewarded Fiona for her efforts and the big brass bed squeaked with their passion. When Mistress came out of the bedroom Her hair was mussed and She was smiling broadly. Fiona smiled too but was walking bowlegged and very slowly.
    i was going back to the Studio to begin my new life! i was Mistress Louise D’s sissy maid, and if i were a good gurl, the next time the bed squeaked, i would squeal along with it!

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