'Oh, Miss. Priscilla! Am I to sit among the guests at a dinner party -in this lovely frock-in these satin slippers and stockings- with my mouth gagged!'
'Yes, Denise!'
'Diamond shoe buckles and high heels for my feet and a gag for my mouth. Oh, oh!' I gasped.
Poignant emotions stirred me, troubled me, provoked my passions. I will tell the whole truth. I was ashamed, but I also anticipated the impending punishment with a strange secret thrill of delight. Ever since I had been a boy, I had been besieged with queer fancies that at first I had ignored. Soon the fancies began to fascinate and frighten me. I recognized that my fantasies of correction might be a danger to my character. My fantasies might be an obstacle to the great career that lay before me.
I had dreamed of an exotic, extravagant world in which ladies would punish me. I imagined myself as a girl in the most exquisite of frocks and high-heeled shoes. I imagined gloves and corsets and them laughing at my pretensions to a career. These dominating women would keep me in bondage and subjection. A toy for their amusement. I had fought against these fancies because I felt them to be unusual, impossible, and bizarre. I had ridiculed them in my own mind as preposterous. Yet now these fantasies seemed part of my nature. They were being translated into fact, and in the process, I was fascinated and obsessed with an erotic force a thousand times stronger than before. It had thrilled me with strange delightful emotions to imagine myself dressed in the luxurious gowns of a fashionable girl, undergoing punishments and humiliations and dainty tortures at the hands of a laughing beautiful woman deaf to my prayers. How thrilled and excited was I when my dream became true!
I tried, however, to struggle against the strange, sweet pleasure invading my senses. For I knew that Helen hated me, and she thought I had, by inheriting my father's fortune, robbed her. I was afraid that she and Miss. Priscilla were seeking to master me completely, therefore getting it back. I was afraid that Miss. Priscilla, with her knowledge of psychopathia, had guessed my secret fancies and by translating them into fact was seeking to reduce me to willing servitude. For now, though, the pleasure mastered the fear. It was the scintillating pleasure of a dream fulfilled that had made me offer so miserable a resistance to my first corset and my banishment to a girls' school.
Miss. Priscilla had one more question to ask of me as I stood there before the closed mirror with my ivory ankles gracefully together and the big buckles flashing on my glistening slippers.
'There was a third tight white kid glove I arranged for you to wear. Have you it on?' I went scarlet. But if I did not answer I should be punished. I hung my head.
'Yes, Phoebe buttoned it on,' I replied in a whisper of confusion. Miss. Priscilla was content.
'I must see it!' Miss. Priscilla charged.
I blushed more deeply than before as I sighed, 'Oh, Miss. Priscilla, please…'
'I want no disobedience from you, young lady!' she snapped at me.
Her voice terrified me and thrilled me, as there was a subtle form of threat occurring underneath the calm exterior of her cruel face.
'Phoebe, arrange her skirts so I might see that the third glove is buttoned and in its place,' Miss. Priscilla shrilled with authority.
'Yes, Miss.!' Phoebe chirped, happily obliging. She went to work carefully lifting my dress and soft white satin slip so that Miss. Priscilla could take a look at the little glove that had been sewn especially for my cock.
Miss. Priscilla had ordered a tailor to construct this fascinating little belt, suggesting that the piece be sewn from soft kid leather. The tailor had obliged, and had managed to create a fabulous little sheath that kept my cock and balls in place so that the lovely lines of my dresses would not be marred by the bulge that showed without the third glove. Thus the prettiness of my appearance would not be disrupted by the distraction of my male sex. The leather sheath cupped my member closely, while delicate little straps went round the slender part of my waist and met in a V that went down and between the cleft of my buttocks.
I was glad for the tortuously clever device for two important reasons. Firstly, the tight fit of the glove was pleasingly painful, and I enjoyed the secret restraint that was occurring beneath my skirts. I secretly thought of the leather sheath as a modified chastity belt, if you will. The second reason that I liked my special little belt is linked to the first, in that when I was stimulated or aroused and my sex grew hard, the constraint upon my penis was even more excruciating, therefore more pleasant.
Phoebe greedily stared at the delicate contraption that secreted my cock and balls. I was absolutely blessed to be given both a healthy set of balls and a lovely set of girlish globes. Who could be luckier than I?
'Everything is in place, Miss. Priscilla,' Phoebe muttered as she continued to stare at my cock.
I trembled a little with excitement as I felt Phoebe's hungry eyes devouring my body.
'Stand still!' Phoebe barked. And then she came forward and rather impudently put her hands near my thighs. She ran her fingers and the palms of her hand slowly over my soft white flesh, pausing for a long moment on my package of love. Her eyes met mine in a devious smile that suggested quite a lot. She grabbed my cock hard and gave it a healthy squeeze. My breasts heaved involuntarily, and I felt my nipples spring to erection, a state of excitement to match my erect penis. I suddenly feared that Phoebe was going to excite my passions beyond all hope, and I would be forced to carelessly spray my seed all over these lovely clothes.
'Oh! Please,' I moaned softly. My plea was in part a begging sound for her to cease, and in part a desperate call for her to continue. I wanted her to defile me completely with her strong grip.
'It will teach you to be modest in the presence of women, Denise, and to remember that you are under their authority. You will wear it always.'
Priscilla pulled down my skirt and arranged it so that the toes of my slippers and an inch of silk-stockinged instep were exposed. As she finished, Helen entered the room. She looked beautiful in a sweeping decollete gown of black velvet and shoulder length white kid gloves.
I could not complain of any want of admiration on her part in any event. A look of wonder and delight shone in her face as she approached me. She uttered a rapturous cry. She ran to me, hugged me, and with passionate kisses, bruised my lips.
'Denise! I am so proud of you.'
I hung my head, conscious for a moment of the full extent of my humiliation. I was her victim. And I loved my enslavement. I adored her for exposing my true self. I loved and feared her because she dominated me completely.
'Oh, Denise!' She laid her lovely face against mine. 'Your cheek is as soft and fresh as a peach. You are a lovely girl.'
'I am not a girl,' I weakly protested. I was becoming drunk with her attentions.
'Aren't you, darling? You shall decide for yourself.'
One of the great mirrors was placed behind me. Oh, how excited I became! At last I was to see what they had made of me. The second was placed in front of me unfolded. I stood in a blaze of light. I stared at myself. I uttered a cry and covered my face with my hands.
'Oh, I am! I am a girl!' I admitted with a cry of pure delight. I hoped for propriety's sake, that I sounded a little shocked.
I saw a girl's face, of fair complexion, mine but more refined and softened. A wealth of fair glinting hair, done up in the most fashionable style, crowned my face. A broad white forehead and arched eyebrows showed darker than my curls. Big, wistful eyes of dark blue with long dark eyelashes flashed. I saw a delicate nose, soft cheeks in which the color came in excitement. Red lips in a Cupid's bow, the color of pale rose leaves. I was smiling and showing a perfect set of small white teeth, a small rounded chin, little ears-such was Dennis Beryl upon his return from school.
I saw in the mirror a girl sparkling with jewels from her feet to her curls, and dressed for a ball in the London season. Helen was in raptures. She might well be, since this was her doing. I was her creation
'You have exceeded all my expectations, darling,' she said.
With little cries of delight, she ran her gloved hands over me, feeling and caressing my skin until I was scarlet with embarrassed desire.
'Oh, Helen. You mustn't,' I protested.
'Nonsense, dear! I am your guardian. Keep still, or else I will whip your girlish bottom.'
'Oh, oh!' I sighed as an excruciating sensation made me blush more than ever.
'Whip me? In this lovely frock?' I whispered shyly.
'Ah,' cried Helen enthusiastically, 'you do love your exquisite satin frock, darling, don't you?' It rustled
