When Haley won her second term she gave Linda the opportunity to be her personal advisor. That's when our problems began. First I had to give up my job, as my company had bids in with the state. Danielle Smalls, yet another of my wife's associates, worked in our legal affairs department. She advised our company to let me go, because of the possibility of our bids being nullified due to Linda's position at the state house. Then the commute became too much for Linda and she decided we'd rent out our home and move into Haley's personal residence, near the governor's mansion. We'd occupy the attached guest quarters. When I disagreed she hit me where it really troubled me.
“Claude,I believe this would be an excellent opportunity for you to resolve some conflicts from your childhood. You'll be in a very supportive all female atmosphere. Myself, Haley, Helena Stern (Chef/head housekeeper), Ginger (Haley's personal maid), and Alice (chauffeur) can all help you. They all know by the way,” she said as I looked at her, my mouth wide open.
“You told everyone I'd been in therapy because of problems with childhood cross dressing? That it had caused impotency problems?” I asked stunned.
She answered, “Yes I did, although I also related that the impotency went away when you dressed as Claire. Everyone is willing to support you fully, in a loving feminine atmosphere. We'll start you off slowly. Unisex clothing, some light housekeeping. You can maintain our section of the house. From there we'll get into some ‘girl talk', brief trips outside on the grounds, then we'll get into full dress up and charm lessons. Finally, day trips in public, fully supervised and chaperoned of course.” She said this as if it were a normal course of action for a husband and wife to be discussing.
It wasn't lost on me that this “experiment” was never referred to as temporary, or that when the truck from the charitable organization came to the house, all of my clothing left, with the exception of enough unisex apparel for about a week. My wife's eagerness to feminize me was obvious. This eagerness carried over to the ladies at Haley's residence.
During the week, Ms. Helena got me familiar with cleaning our portion of the house. Linda hardly was home, staying several evenings at the state house. Ms. Helena also saw to it that I wore ladies slacks, satiny under things, stockings, blouses and medium heeled shoes along with my ruffled aprons, during the day. At bedtime she made it mandatory for me to keep my body shaved, bathed, and scented with powder, lotion and perfume. My hair, which a local beautician had trimmed and shaped, during a visit to the house, was set and rolled with curlers and jell, and always netted and turbaned. Linda herself had plucked and shaped my eyebrows with great pleasure, before our move.
Our second Saturday at the house, found everyone very excited. Two well known stylists, a husband and wife team, Patricia and Jeffrey Queen, were coming to the house to beautify both Haley and Linda, for a magazine interview, to be conducted, later in the day. They would be bringing one assistant, Angel, a Latin American beauty.
“Everyone may as well have something done, Helena. Just in case any other photos are taken,” Haley said as my governess, which is how I thought of Helena, looked at me smiling.
When I did enter the beauty room, as Haley called this special section of her home, I entered a very calm relaxed atmosphere. Soft music was playing. Linda was having her hair set with hot rollers, by Angel. They were chatting and smiling. Jeffrey was manicuring Haley, her hair already in hot rollers. Patricia was supervising Ginger, Haley's very attractive uniformed maid, while the servant cleaned up the area. Alice was nowhere to be seen, and as Helena and I entered the room, Helena excused herself and I was left facing a smiling Patricia.
“There you are Claire,” she said, using the feminine name I'd been called since moving to the house. “Ginger sees that Claire is put in a cape and shampooed. A hot oil condition would be nice also.” Then shaking her head she added, “I must do something with my Jeffrey's hair. It continues to fall in his eyes, and obstructs his vision while he serves Haley.”
She strode towards her husband, and as he paused from his care of Haley's nails, Patricia took a brush and a satin ribbon and pulled and brushed his long blond hair into a ponytail, which she tied with the ribbon. The ponytail however, did not start at the nape of Jeffrey's neck. It was tied off at the very top of his head, in a plumed fashion. It fell to his left ear in sort of a “Beach Bunny” effect. He blushed furiously as Ginger seated me for my shampoo.
Once my wash and condition was complete, I was seated in front of a vanity and mirror, in a very high make-up chair, that one would see on a movie set. I felt quite vulnerable and very helpless, the two-inch heels of my open toed pumps, barely catching on a rung of the chair. Standing behind me, and staring at me in the mirror, Ms. Patricia said, “Well Claire, this is a very big day for you. What are we going to do today?” she asked glancing at My wife, Linda.
As Linda rose to her feet and sashayed calmly over, Patricia said to her, “I dare say Linda. This may be a good day to start her on cosmetics again,” she said, emphasizing the word again. “I wouldn't rule it out, Patricia,” Linda replied, placing a hand on my shoulder. “ Claire wore make up as a teenager, didn't you dear?” she asked not waiting for me to answer, then added, “Let's see,” as they both began to discuss my “makeover.”
Patricia began by trimming my hair into a Dutch bob, about medium length, midway between my chin and shoulders. She gave me square cut bangs to the top of my soon to be waxed eyebrows. Once she zipped my brows, she gave me a nice, creamy facial. During this time, Ginger had seated herself next to me and began my manicure.
Whenever I glanced at her, she would smile, wink, and then blow me a little kiss. This made me feel really uncomfortable. I found this sexy ladies' maid to be very attractive, but after all I was married. Then Patricia began to roll my hair onto medium sized, pink plastic curlers, making sure the set was very, very tight.
After my set was finished she applied a foamy setting lotion very carefully to each tightly rolled curler, before putting a hair net over my wet, lotion covered hair. She then had both her husband and Ginger wheel a dryer into place so I could be seated under it for my hair to dry. Ginger had completed my manicure with a soft, subtle shade of pink rose as she called it.
To my knowledge, there is nothing that ever gave me a more feminine feeling than to see myself in a mirror, hair rolled up, glistening wet, wearing a hair net, under a dryer. To top it all off, I was given a copy of Good Housekeeping to read. These ladies did not leave their intentions to my imagination.
As my hair dried and I read an article on table decorating, I glanced around the “salon.”
Patricia and Angel were finishing up with Haley and Linda. Ginger was now shampooing Jeffrey's hair. Once Haley and Linda were pronounced “done” they left with Angel. Jeff and Patricia were left alone with me. It was then I was treated to a stunning revelation! Jeffrey Queen began to set his own hair while his wife laid out some women's clothing. His clothing!
For once he finished with his set, he picked up the skirt, blouse and heels and headed for the restroom, returning fully dressed as a female, including a padded chest! Were all these ladies into dressing men as femmes? I'd soon find out. When his wife moved the dryer and began my comb out she spoke to me, “Jeffrey, or I should say, Sally, will be showing you how to apply your make-up, Claire. When I've done your hair, go over to the other vanity for a make-up lesson. How would you like your hair today? Maybe an up-do?” she asked.
“Patricia, what makes you or anyone else think I want to wear make-up or have my hair done?” I asked, realizing immediately that I'd said the wrong thing.
Without batting an eye Patricia said, “Sally honey, go see if you can find Miss Helena and anyone else not busy. I think we have a reluctant girl on our hands.” Patricia then fashioned my hair into a high fashion upsweep, pinned in a sort of braided pattern in the back. It was the type of ‘do' I had seen Linda wear to luncheons and business meetings. Very sophisticated.
I sat frozen wondering why I was no longer resisting, knowing full well Ms. Stern and company were not going to go easy on me. Ms. Stern, Alice, Angel and Sally entered. Sally stood back and the three ladies who had just entered, helped Patricia lift me from my perch.
“Wait ladies, I'll obey. I'll wear make-up. You can put spray in my hair. Anything! Don't hurt me, please!?” I begged to no use. “Sally, won't you help me?” I asked, already realizing my sissy sister and I were in the same boat. The four women laughed uproariously as they laid me over a vanity bench, tying my wrists and ankles to the legs of the vanity.
“Sally, please help me,” Patricia mocked me in a squeaky little girl's voice. “My goodness, can you believe it?” she asked, tears in her eyes from the laughter. “One pansy asking another for help,” she laughed again. “No Claire, I'm afraid Sally won't be able to help you,” Patricia stated condescendingly as she lowered my stretch slacks and French cut bikini panties to my knees, rubbing my butt while she added, “Sally would be afraid that she would break a nail or a heel, and we can't have that, can we now?”
Ms. Stern then began to lecture me as she also began to paddle me with Linda's old initiation paddle from her sorority days. “We will not let you off just because you changed your mind about cooperating, Claire. You may as well learn right now that anytime you complain about your transformation, or resist anyone in the household concerning it, in any way, justice will be swift and uncomfortable. This will teach you to obey without hesitation.” The entire time she was swatting me with the paddle.
I was on the brink of tears when she stopped, only to hand the paddle to Alice, saying, “My arm's tired dear, take over, lets make this paddling one that our newest sissy will never forget. Everyone gets a turn!” She said in a commanding tone.
By the time it was all over I was a shivering, shaking, quivering mess. Sobbing hysterically like a jilted diva in an opera, I was finished off by Patricia, who had followed Angel. The Latino girl had really paddled me with a flair.
Patricia, as she finished said to Sally, “Untie and comfort your new girlfriend, Sally. Then get her into a skirt, higher heels, as high as she can stand them. We want her in a padded bra, and sheer hose also. Next, a make-up lesson and make sure her hair is sprayed to stay in place. Finally you are to give her an introductory charm lesson. Someone will come to get you when it's time to introduce her to the household.” Completing her instructions she and the rest of my tormentors left the room.
I'm uncertain how long it took to calm me down and get me dressed as was required. I do know Sally was very comforting and to this day we are best girlfriends. There is nothing like having a chat with her while she does my hair. I also know, that the dressing up didn't take nearly as long as the makeup lesson, and by the time we began the charm lesson, I was completely back to normal.
Of course, that is, if you call normal, parading around a room in three-inch heels, preening in a mirror, and making sure every hair is carefully sprayed in place. I also tried my first curtseys since junior high, when mom and my sisters used to petticoat discipline me.
At long last, Ginger came to the beauty room to take me to supper. I tried following her and Sally, who walked ever so ladylike and chatted and joked like old friends. I wanted dearly to emulate their charming, girlish moves and mannerisms. I knew instinctively that the sooner I did, the sooner I would fit in at the house.
“Supper will be served shortly Claire. We're going to the living room for you to make your formal entrance. Relax, you are among friends.” Then she surprised me by saying, “Both Sally and I have been through this and it really can be enjoyable if we obey.” Before I could ask her what she meant she motioned her hand to hold me back from the entranceway.
Entering the room she announced, “Ladies, I'd like to introduce the newest member of our household, Missy Claire Goodman,” she said as I self-consciously entered the room and curtseyed to bright smiles and polite applause. It wasn't lost on me that Ginger had used my wife's last name, Goodman, and not mine. I curtseyed the best I could and Linda asked me if I was ready to begin behaving. “Yes dear I am” I answered, curtseying and smiling prettily. She then instructed me to help with the table setting and serving of the food.
Arriving in the kitchen Ginger gave Sally and me fully ruffled, to the knees, crisp, white aprons to wear. She showed me how to set the table and then gave me some pointers on serving. “Just follow my lead and my verbal instructions. If you are working with Sally, do the same,” she stated in a motherly fashion.
The ladies, Helena Stern, Haley, Alice, Patricia, Angel and Linda arrived and took their seats at the table. Though the table would seat eight, we, the maids, (as I now accepted the fact) were required to sit at a smaller table near to the kitchen.
As each course was served we would sit down to eat. Each of us had a signal for when we were needed. Mine was two rings of the bell, Sally's three, Ginger, of course as head maid, got one ring. For this meal I was only called upon by Ginger to assist her with the serving of the next course. Once desert was finished, Ginger and I cleaned up as Sally served after dinner beverages.
While in the kitchen I wanted to ask Ginger about the remark she had made earlier in the day about her and Sally “having been through this.” This, meant to me, being transformed. I obviously was in the process, and I had seen Sally dress right in front of me. Ginger however,….. well, I could hardly believe that this lovely creature was anything other then a true to life genetic female! I couldn't broach the subject, though.
How on earth do you ask someone if they are a dominated sissy? Especially if you think that they are, in all probability a real girl? Maybe Haley or Ms. Stern was a lesbian and Ginger belonged to one of them as sort of a submissive femme.
By the time the evening was over, I had helped clean up, serve in the sitting room and was escorted to bed by my lovely wife. As we reached the doorway to our section of the house she turned to Helena Stern, about to go to her room and asked, “Will it be necessary for Claire to set her hair at bedtime? I don't know that I want to sleep with my new bride while she has a head full of rollers.”
“Of course not Ms. Goodman, she is yours as she has always been yours. It will be up to you how she prepares herself in the evenings,” Ms. Stern replied, speaking of me as if I were a piece of owned property.
“Well thank you Helena, how about this though? When I'm at the State House with Haley, or anywhere away from here for that matter, Claire is yours as far as appearance, conduct, or discipline. Of course during her routine workday she also belongs to you. Let's just say that she's mine in matters of wifely performance,” she said smiling. “Also, please dear, call me Linda,” she added.
“Excellent idea Linda. We will share in keeping Claire feminine and obedient. Goodnight girls,” Ms. Stern said as she closed the door to her room. The evening was a real eye opener for me. I was ravaged as never before and woke with my entire butt sore, from both my paddling and my reaming by Linda's vibrator and faux penis.
I struggled to get out of bed, get dressed, fix my hair and face and get to the kitchen to help Ginger prepare breakfast.
The Queens and Angel, had left late the evening before, so Sally wouldn't be there to help. Luckily I remembered to curtsey to Miss Helena who assisted as well as supervised with the preparations. I have forgotten a few times since, and paid with a hard smack on the back of my thighs with the nearest utensil, such as a spatula or serving spoon.
“Claire, after cleanup, you will go with Ginger to move into your maids room. She will also show you your uniforms and instruct you on what to wear and when to wear it. You have separate uniforms for different times of the day, different duties and different events. Your room is near Ms. Goodman's room. If she desires you evenings, or anytime for that matter she will tell you,” with that she left Ginger and I to our duties.
Sometime later, as Ginger helped me dress, I was complaining about a few things. Mostly the tightness of the corset, the height of the heels, and the restrictive inner petticoat that was more like a hobble skirt. “Goodness Ginger, we work so hard. Why should we be expected to dress in such impractical clothing?” I whined as I tried to keep my balance on four-inch heels.
“Because both Haley and Linda expect us to,” she stated somewhat impatiently. “The clothes we wear, the job we do, the way they control us and continue to do as they wish, are all symbols and statements of their domination of us. Your transformation has been in the works for ages dear. Ever since Haley dumped me and turned me into a sissy for cheating on her, Linda has been waiting to girlie you up,” she said as I looked at him, or her or whatever, in shock and surprise.
How could I not have seen it? Ginger was most certainly a transformed male, and not just any male. She was Haley's philandering ex-husband, Gary! “Oh, my goodness! How long have you been like this?” I asked in surprise as I sat down in a chair, careful to smooth my skirt as I did so.
Ginger sat down, and in her very feminine voice said, “Since a couple months after the divorce. At least that's when she started me on this road to girlie hood. After she kicked me out I begged her to take me back. She told me the conditions and I agreed. I figured, after a while, she'd let up and I'd be on easy street. You know. Kept?
She looked at me, checking my reaction, then said, “ Well this is definitely like being kept. She buys my clothes, food, and all my toiletries. Keeps a roof over my head. In return I keep myself pretty, wait on her hand and foot, service her sexually when required, and I'm at her beck and call. She even shows me off to her friends. Every gigolo's dream. In this case though, I'm much closer to being a concubine. Wouldn't you say?” Ginger said this in as matter a fact manner as possible. I could only listen.
She continued, still “all girl” in her speech and mannerisms. “It wasn't until I was close to a year into it, and much too far gone to turn back, that I realized a few things. One was that she was very serious about keeping me as her sissy maid. The other was that she was bisexual, and she and Linda were deeply in love.”
This for me, was nearly too much to take, and as my eyes filled with tears Ginger comforted me in a sisterly way. “Oh dear, I had hoped it was Linda that would tell you this. Of course they insisted it should be me,” she said as she hugged and rocked me like a little child.
Once I calmed, she asked whether I was able to handle a description of my future lifestyle. “Maybe we could chat while we clean the house,” she said smiling. I agreed.
“Ms. Stern and Alice are a “couple”. So are our spouses. You and I get the “leftovers” so to speak. Whenever our ladies want to be together we will sleep in our separate sissy maid rooms. If any of the ladies here, or their friends desire us, we make sure we please them.” She paused for effect, before continuing.
We'll basically be rewarded the same way any “kept” female would be. Gifts, time off, lunches, trips to the hairdressers. If we misbehave, or fail to please, well, you got a taste of that yesterday, I believe.” As she finished she looked at me, shrugged her shoulders and went on with her housekeeping.
During the days that followed, I was kept very busy. If I wasn't housekeeping, I was being drilled by Helena Stern on charm, beauty, comportment, speech, etc. She was strict, but fair, and for the most part, very patient.
Evenings without Linda were lonely. She would encourage me to become friends with Ginger, and to really get into girl stuff. For the most part we did that. Long chats on housekeeping, cooking, hair ,clothes and make-up. Even sex. With our spouses, of course. One subject completely off limits was boys. “You're not real girls. You're sissies. Your spouses are your only sexual interests,” Ms. Stern would admonish us.
In fact, if we were made to service another lady, we could only discuss it with our spouse. A very unusual, but not unpleasant life. The life I lead and love today.
It's our day off. Ginger and I meet Sally at the Key Palace Mall. Shopping, lunch, then to Sally's house to look through a hairdressing catalogue. Ginger and I both want to “do something different” with our hair.
“Go red Claire. Ginger, you should go a lot darker. Short ‘bobs'. Both of you. You'll look like sisters. Your ladies won't be able to keep their hands off of you,” Sally tells us. We're sold. The following Saturday we're at her salon. We spend hours there, and tons of our spouses' money.
Arriving home we mince toward the front door, checking our appearance in our compacts. We primp and preen, touching our shorter, color changed hair. We enter the house quietly. Looking toward the rear of the house I see Linda on the patio, near the pool.
Ms. Stern enters the room we're in, stops abruptly, smiles and says, “Don't the two of you look absolutely stunning? I know two ladies who will be very pleased with their money being well spent.” She pauses as I thank her, curtsey and head toward the pool.
As I walk out to the patio I hear her say to Ginger, “Miss Haley is on the verandah. Just in case you're looking for her Ginger.”
I don't hear anything else except my heels clicking on the tiles leading to Linda's lounge chair. She looks up, smile's and whistles. “Hello darling. Would you like me to get you anything?” I ask, spinning and twirling as if I'm modeling the “little black dress” I'm wearing.
As I stop a couple feet from, her she rises and comes towards me, her arms held out. She takes me into her arms, pulls me to her, and places her creamy red lips onto mine, and inserts her tongue in my fresh mouth.
“Yes you can dear. You can get my wife's hot little rear to my bedroom. You can also prepare her to be taken. Now!” she said commandingly. I twirl, blow her a kiss, and fluff my newly done hair, saying, “Yes Mistress, it shall be done immediately,” as I literally prance off to her room. Tonight, I'm hers. Tomorrow? Who knows?