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To the Manor Bound Ch. 01

By: Nikki258



[Hey, just to be forewarned, this story focuses heavily on forced feminisation including aspects of BDSM and non-consent, so if that's not your thing this might not be the story for you. I also feel the need to point out that I don't agree with any of Lord Madison's political views: this is porn, not polemic. With that said, I hope you enjoy it!]

Chapter 1 -- The First Night

"I am of the firm opinion that not only was this country at its most prosperous and stable during the latter half of the 19th century as a result of the system of patronage and servitude, but that it is the only route by which we may restore the glory of old England." Lord Madison, as reported in Hansard, House of Lords, 15th March 20xx.

It had come in the middle of an unimportant debate, held late into the night, during a time of year typically set aside for parliamentary recess, so the speech given by Lord Madison attracted very little attention in the mainstream press. The manner in which it was reported in one or two of the lesser well-thumbed left-wing papers left little doubt in the mind of their readers that his Lordship was calling for nothing less than the return of the feudal system.

Half of the articles demanded his removal from the peerage, the other half called for nothing less than outright underclass revolution, but they all called for protest. Which is why, on a drizzly overcast Saturday, Peter Howe stood shivering with a lone placard in front of the imposing iron gates of the entrance driveway to Hambleton Manor, the country estate of Lord Madison.

Even at the time of its constructions it was widely recognised as being one of the finest manor houses in the whole of Borsetshire, if not all of south England. Grandiose and columned, the manor was split between the main hall and the two long wings that stretched around the well-manicured gardens. The history of the Borsetshire Madison's that have made Hambleton their home over the years however is much less dignified.

A full recounting of the sordid deeds that the manor house has seen over the years would stain the sheets of any paper: from its origins as a nunnery (widely rumoured to be satanic even at the time) prior to Henry VIII's reforms, through the stern corrective hands of the feudal lords, to the decadently extravagant parties of the late 19th century which nearly bankrupted the family and briefly forced the conversion of one of the wings into a "private reformatory school for wayward young ladies" and its recent re-privatisation by the young Lord Madison.

The latest and last of his line, Lord Madison re-made both his fortune and his name through no small degree of expertise at the London stock exchange; rising in profit and repute in spite of scurrilous and hushed rumours of less than above board dealings with the far east and certain oil-rich sheiks.

But that was all in the past: at the age of 36, having restored his wealth and his family's name and estate, he promptly shocked the business world again and retired to the genteel life of the landed aristocracy. Over the past 4 years he had gradually disappeared from public life, save for a few duty-bound appearances in the House of Lords.

In fact it may have been his near complete disappearance from the society pages of broadsheet newspapers, and the scandal pages of the tabloids, that resulted in such a small turnout for the protest.

Peter shivered miserably. His clothes were soaked through and the wind was starting to pick up again. The only other protesters had left over an hour ago and still his ride home hadn't turned up. It was only when a branch above his head reached a tipping point at the weight of water it held and broke fully depositing a full litre of fresh rain down the back of his shirt that he looked up again towards the manor house. Through the mist and heavy rain he just about made out the flashing on of a pair of high-beam headlights.

He watched still as a muddy, dark-red Land Rover wound its way down the mansion's driveway and paused in front of the ornate iron gates whilst the motors ground into life to open them. Pete stood frozen to the spot for a second before he remembered why he was there and half-heartedly picked up his placard. The small crowd had seen neither hide nor hair of his Lordship all day and this was the first chance he'd had to actually get his protest across.

He therefore felt more than a little deflated when the driver leant over, opened the passenger side door and spoke to him, "You look like you could use a hot drink or a towel at least. How'd you fancy waiting inside?" Now in his early forties Lord Madison had a few flecks of grey peppered over his temples and a little more stubble than in any of the tabloid photographs but it was still unmistakably him.

Peter's mouth lolled open for a second and he was unsure what to do; torn between maintaining his protest in spite of the elements and the offer of any kind of shelter, he pouted. Seeing his discomfort Lord Madison smiled broadly and offered a hand to him, "Come on now, really, put politics aside for a moment; we can discuss the matter further back at the mansion and I'll try to clarify what I was trying to say. Truce?"

Peter looked at him, in his icy blue eyes for the first time, and gave up.

***

The dark-stained oak doors to the mansion opened with a creak and Peter followed his Lordship inside. His rain-soaked converse trainers sloshed with water as they crossed the cold front hall and ascended up the imposing central staircase, with its luxuriously thick carpeting.

Upon reaching the third floor Lord Madison led his shivering guest down a warren of corridors before pausing outside a richly appointed bathroom.

"Now, why don't you stop in here and have a good hot shower. I'll take your wet stuff and find you some nice warm clothes, then you can meet me in the grand hall whilst yours are drying."

Peter shivered an agreement and entered the bathroom. He stripped off whilst his Lordship waited outside, pausing only for a second to look over his body in the full length mirror. Not that there was a great deal to look at: he was nineteen now and in his second year of college, but there was still barely a hair on his slender, pale body apart from a little blonde tuft above his cock that really only served to highlight how poorly endowed he was.

Stepping into the shower he turned the jets on full blast and washed away the mud and grime in the hot streams of water that ran down his face. As he picked up an old-fashioned looking bottle of shower gel and sniffed at it he faintly heard the sound of the door opening and his clothes being collected. He could just make out the faint silhouette of his Lordship moving across the floor with something in his arms but he paid it no mind.

The gel smelt a little acrid but it felt strangely cooling as he rubbed it over his body, lathering up along his long legs and smooth belly and rubbing the suds over and around his balls. Finally he rinsed it all away with the water so hot it felt like his skin was burning a little and the air of the tiled bathroom felt incredibly cold.

Brushing the water from his eyes he looked around for the anticipated clothes but the only thing resting over the towel-rail was a short, light-pink dressing gown.

"Ah, you're finished." His Lordship's voice boomed through the door, "I'm afraid that was the only thing I could find that would fit you. I'm sure it's not what you were expecting but it's only for a little while. It belonged to a maid who recently left my service; one of the factors that provoked my little outburst in the chamber the other day."

Before Peter had a chance to complain he heard the sound of heavy footsteps leading away back down the corridor.

After drying himself as best as he could Peter slipped the soft, terrycloth gown around his slim shoulders and turned back to face the mirror. His face dropped in shock, the thing was a disgrace: it barely came up to halfway up his thighs and he had to keep tightening the belt around his waist to keep it from slipping open. It was deeply humiliating but he couldn't stay in the bathroom forever and there was little else that he could do. He stepped back out into the dark hallway.

Following the sound of a crackling fire Peter walked along the thickly carpeted hallways, surrounded by the flickeringly lit faces of long-dead viscounts and barons until he reached the grand central hall. A glow from a fireplace shone around the doorframe and Peter stood for a second unsure on how to enter before he leaned against the heavy oak door and pushed it open to see his Lordship languidly reclining in a high-backed leather armchair, a glass of brandy resting in his hand and a rack by the hearth where his clothes stood gently steaming.

"Ah! There you are! Come in, come in," Lord Madison waved him inwards and motioned towards a second chair facing the fireplace and the large mirror that hung above it, "Let me get you a glass of something warming."

Peter felt incredibly exposed as he squeezed past his Lordship to reach the other chair. The heat from the fire flushed against the exposed skin of his upper thighs. This humiliation only increased as he sat down, feeling the dressing gown ride up and the touch of leather on his bare arse cheeks. It was whilst he was adjusting the pink robe that he realised he needed to constantly keep his knees pressed together so as to avoid revealing himself.

"There you go." Peter looked up to see Lord Madison pressing a large tumbler of what smelt like brandy into his hands. He thought for a second that he saw his eyes flashing downwards with a smirk and it was at this point that he finally felt like he had been pushed too far; he was done being belittled by this man simply because he wasn't a member of the peerage, it was time to put his foot down.

Peter looked about the room, anger boiling inside of him just beneath the surface, with its dark ornate oak panelling, antique wooden chests and full grand piano the entire scene was enormous, opulent and entirely wasted on this aristocratic layabout.

Raising the glass tumbler to his lips he downed it in one. He scarcely registered the slightly-off, chalkish taste it had and putting it down to it being an older vintage than he'd ever tried before. Now he was ready.

"You think you're better than me? You think that all of this makes you better than any other human being?" Peter waved his arms about, "with even a quarter of what you've got stored away here entire villages could live on, all to perpetuate some kind of anachronistic bullshit about breeding and refinement!" He shifted about in the dressing gown again; his skin was starting to flush hotter than just from the fire and an itching was spreading from his ankles to his neck.

His Lordship raised an eyebrow and smiled curiously, waving him on.

"This entire ssysstem iss based on the antuqua, on the antiq, on the old idea of you being inherently ssuperior to mee." Peter could suddenly hear his own voice and how slurred it was becoming, how heavy his tongue felt in his mouth. "What digni dignity iss thereee in tryin' to to " He tried to stand to make his final point but his legs fell from beneath him and he collapsed back into the chair. "futhhherr morrre" his closing argument was lost in a sloppy mess of sound as his eyes glassed over.

His Lordship took another sip of his brandy and leant forward, "All done? Splendid, then I can begin." He downed his own glass with a gulp and stood up. A new kind of smile spreading over his square jaw: malevolent and slightly cruel. "Now having never tried chloral hydrate myself I'm none too certain of how conscious you are right now but hopefully you're still aware enough to be able to hear me."

Striding purposefully past Peter's openly lolling mouth and beyond his field of vision his Lordship picked up one of the heavy wooden chests that lay along the far wall and carried it over with ease past the fireplace and dropping it with a thud at Peter's feet.

"I don't owe you an explanation, why should I? Everything I'm about to do is fully justified in its own right, but, simply so as to prevent you from whining at me more than I can suffer over the next few weeks, I'll fill you in a little." His Lordship leant over and opened the dressing gown from top to bottom with a single finger and pulled it out from behind Peter, leaving him naked. With one hand Lord Madison dismissively brushed away the hair that was rapidly falling away from Peter's body.

"You see, my maid handed in her letter of resignation a month ago and it's becoming oh so very hard to find good domestic help anymore, in spite of the labour shortage." He slid along the arm of the chair and, moving his face closer to Peter's, wafted away his little tuft of pubic hair and whispered in his ear. "So I decided to train one myself: you!" with that he gave Peter's cock an excited little squeeze.

"I've come to the conclusion that there would be no better manner than this in which to prove the correctness of the old social order: that some men are simply born to be dominant and other men are born to be, to be . . . well, to be whatever it is I decide to turn you into." He said it with a smile, but it was cold and intimidating all the same. "Hence the little trick with the defoliating shower gel."

"Now, I know full well that your first thought is going to be one of escape, maybe even of running to the police, well let's put that right out of your little mind shall we?" He reached into the chest and pulled out a tall, stiff, leather collar that was lined on the inside with a steel band and on the outside with rows of lacy bows that hid a small black box with a little blinking light. Reaching forward, his Lordship wrapped it around Peter's neck and tightened it until it was as close as skin. Then there came a little click.

"Fits like a glove," He smiled. "Now, should you decide to try to venture beyond the bounds of the manor or its grounds this little box in front will provide you with 8,000 joules worth of electrical shock as a reminder of where your new place in life lies. Allow me to provide you with an illustrative demonstration." Picking a small, silver service-bell from the chest his Lordship gave it a tinkle and an instant shock ran all through Peter's body, though for the moment all he could do was twitch and give a little involuntary moan of pain. "Wireless technology! It really is quite the miracle invention and that was only a thousand joules to let you know that I need your attention. I need hardly tell you that you would not want to experience its full capacity should you try to remove your collar."

"So, let the transformation begin! I think I'll work from the top down." He ran a hand through Peter's mid-length thick blonde hair, "Good, but not good enough on its own yet, but good enough to avoid a wig. A natural blonde too. I think we'll put in some extensions." And with that his Lordship went to work, picking a set of straighteners and some clumps of long blond hair from the chest and moving behind & around the still unmoving Peter, weaving them permanently into his hair.

"Lovely, you're looking cuter already, see how it's already framing your face, speaking of which . . ." He bent down and picked up a make-up case, a cheapish looking one stocked with gaudy pinks and blues. "Now, in time you'll have to learn how to do this yourself, but since you're new to this kind of service I'll walk you through it."

He talked him through the foundation, and blusher, through the eye shadow and dark mascara and finally through the nail polish and the bright red lipstick that he smeared on with a little too much vigour, "Oops, I've got a little too much on now, oh well we'll see if I can't find something to wipe it off with later," he said with a grin.

All the time this was going on Peter's mind was raging inside. The taste of the drugged brandy was still filling his mouth and nostrils and although his thoughts were becoming clearer he could still not move his body an inch. He silently fumed and screamed internally with an impotent rage at the presumptuous arrogance of the man who was transforming him into god knows what, but as his Lordship continued his work he found his anger mixing with fear at how far it was being taken.

Lord Madison now ran his hands down Peter's finely feminised cheeks and onto his chest, groping at his skinny frame and then suddenly pinching and pulling hard on his nipples. "Not much here to work with," he sighed, "but then I always find a challenge makes it all the more fun for me."

Another capped tube came out of the box, this one a darker green in colour with a heavy chemical smell as Lord Madison unscrewed the lid and quickly began working it over and around Peter's chest in two circles. "This," He said, "is an epoxy resin. Once set it's then good and secure for about a month so you won't need to worry about these," he dove for the box once more and pulled out a pair of extremely lifelike breast-forms, round and bouncy, 36 C cups, "moving about too much."

His Lordship spent some time carefully positioning the fake silicon tits on his chest so that they lined up perfectly, matching the natural shape of his chest and tone of his skin. As the resin set Lord Madison kept his hands in place and looked Peter squarely in the eyes as he spoke. "These are, I assure, not my preference either. Merely a stopgap measure whilst I decide what size suits you best: you may go up but you'll never go back down again, especially after I decide what's best for you and you get some permanent implants in there." At this he grinned malevolently and Peter's eyes darted in every direction pleading with the world for some kind of exit or help.

After ten minutes had passed with his Lordship's weight pressing down on his chest he finally removed his hands and let the heavy breasts swing freely. The unusual weight felt strange on Peter's skin and his body twitched involuntarily until they settled.

For a second his Lordship stood back with hands on hips admiring his handiwork until his eyes fell further downwards. "Ah yes, which brings us onto this . . ." He ran a finger slowly up and down Peter's penis, stroking gently and circling the head with his thumb. "Now don't you worry little maid, you're not going to have to go under the knife for this. I mean, it's hardly worth it, is it? Not when it's this small." His Lordship's laughter echoed around the large ballroom. "No, I think I'll let you keep it, just as a reminder of who you once were and how far you've fallen."

"But that doesn't mean we can have you going around with that little acorn bouncing around freely now does it?" Lord Madison picked up a strange looking metal contraption consisting of some interlocking hinged steel rings attached to a slim curved steel tube which ended in a heart shaped lattice where a small little bell jangled. "I do hope this is the right size, it looks a little spacious for that little nubbin of a thing."

Desperately, Peter tried to move his groin away from the ensnaring metal tubes but his body still felt numb and beyond him and he could barely twitch his thighs as Lord Madison locked first one testicle and then the other, tightening the metal rings around them then clipping the larger ring all around his cock and sliding the tube up to meet it and gave it a little shake, the bell on the end tinkling in response.

At this final humiliation Peter managed to compose his strength and gave out a small gurgled moan in protest.

"Shhh now, I want you to hear this." Lord Madison looped a small titanium padlock across the top of the tube holding it place for a second. "Listen closely sissy, I want you to remember the sound of your manhood disappearing forever . . ."


To the Manor Bound Ch. 01



He squeezed the lock together and there came a small metallic Clink.

"Beautiful, you're starting to look like a real sissy slut now, the only thing holding you back is to get you into your new uniform, but first out with the old!" At that Lord Madison picked up the still steaming rags Peter had been wearing to protest in and one by one threw them into the roaring fireplace. "After all, I don't want you getting it into that silly little head of yours that there's any escape from this point onwards." He paused as he picked up the pair of baggy combat trousers, sneering until he investigated the pockets, and pulled out Peter's wallet.

He flicked through the slim leather holder, pulling out its contents. "No drivers licence, no credit cards and barely any cash. Not much of a life you've got going on here is it . . you know I've just realised that I don't even know your name! How frightfully rude of me!" He laughed deeply and pulled out a student ID card, "Peter Hayes? No, no, no. That simply won't do, that won't do at all." He flicked the card backwards over his shoulder dismissively, not even turning to watch it melt. "No, I think you'll need a new name for your new identity. Hmm, I think Francine will suit you much better." With that he carelessly hurled the last of Peter's clothes into the fireplace and lifted his chin with a finger, "Watch now as the last of your old life, the last of your manhood, goes up in smoke."

Lord Madison walked away behind him and left the room for a second, leaving Peter alone to stare at the reflection in the mirror. He barely recognised it as being a mirror at first it looked so different to himself: a stunningly beautiful, slim blonde with a heaving chest. In spite of himself, he felt his cock twitch inside its metal cage at the sight of this gorgeous female and he had to try and focus all his thoughts on who he really was.

From the corridor outside there came a trundling sound and soon Lord Madison re-entered carting behind him a clothes rack that seemed to be about 50% frills and 50% latex and leather. Splayed out on a rack below were innumerable sets of lingerie: panties so lacy and flimsy they may as well be invisible, shiny satin bras and opaque little babydolls.

"Meet your new wardrobe Francine!"

He started with panties: sliding a thin, black pair of French cut panties slowly up Peter's legs and letting the lacy fabric trace its way over his newly sensitive skin before pulling them snugly over Peter's now straining belt and a little way up into his arse crack. Lord Madison went around him to put on the matching bra, his face sliding close to Peter's as he clipped it shut.

Putting the corset on took more work as Peter's body was still as limp as a ragdoll, but eventually the process of tightening up could begin. The silky constraints pulling hard on Peter's stomach, squeezing half the air out of him and pushing his new breasts out and upwards so they were close to spilling out.

Next came the maids uniform. There were a dozen or more different uniforms hanging from the rack and his Lordship shuffled through them before settling on the one that he liked; a tight latex bust that clung to Peter's skin above a hundred lace frills that still somehow managed to stop just above his knees with a little white apron on the front making the illusion complete.

Then came more padlocks, this time clinking tightly onto ankle and wrist cuffs and a pair of five-inch-heeled thigh-high boots that were now impossible to remove. Finally Lord Madison unfurled a single length of ribbon and spent some time arranging the curls on top of Francine's head before tying them off with a large, looping bow.

His work complete his Lordship leant back against the mantelpiece and took in the sight of his creation, waiting for the drugs to wear off.

It took maybe another quarter hour or more but slowly Peter felt the control come back to him. His skin tingled with renewed recognition. He twitched his face as much as he could to try and shake the feeling back into it, groaning and moaning his uncertain throat. When it finally looked like he was about to come around Lord Madison strode forward and locked his wrist and ankle cuffs to the side of the armchair.

Peter moaned again and tried to move his arms and was amazed at the sudden ease of movement and new clarity of voice, the knockout drops had now finally worn off and he was able to speak.

"You fucking sicko pervert! What are you trying to do to me?"

Lord Madison slapped him with a hard open palm across his cheeks bringing a new look of shock to Peter's face. "I would have hoped that even to a brainless sissy like you it would be clear what I'm going to do; I do hope I didn't overdo the dosage and caused a little brain damage, after all breaking in a sissy's brain is the most enjoyable part. Well, maybe second most enjoyable after breaking in another part of you."

With that Lord Madison stepped forward again, straddling the armchair that Peter was securely shackled to, moving his bulging crotch just inches from his face. Peter recoiled in shock and horror but no matter how he tried to turn his head there was no escaping the growth in Lord Madison's trousers.

Zzzzzzip. His Lordship undid the zipper slowly, pulling aside his jockey shorts and beginning to take out his cock. still only semi-erect and already 7 inches in length the girth alone was enough to intimidate Peter into silence for a second.

"It's ok, take a good look at it Francine. I'm sure you've not seen a real cock since showering in gym. After all," He reached down through the lace and silk and jingled the bell on the end of Peter's chastity belt, "this hardly counts as a cock now does it?"

Peter sniffled a little and looked up at Lord Madison, "Stop it! Stop calling me a sissy! You rich asshole, why are you d-d-doing this? W-w-what do you want from me? I don-" Peter's tirade was cut short as Lord Madison push his head back with one hand and forced his now hard cock deep into Peter's mouth.

Suddenly for Peter his entire perspective had changed; his entire sensory experience was now filled with cock: the taste from the pre-cum that already coated his tongue, the feeling of its hard throbbing length sliding in and out of his mouth making him gag, and the sight of his Lordship his face sternly looking down on him.

"You're going to learn to serve society, you're going to learn how to serve this household, and most importantly you're going to learn how to serve me. From this point on Francine you are now my property, you may not like this to begin with -- and quite frankly I don't give a damn if you come to like it at all -- but this is your life from now on."

He put a hand on the back of Peter's head, wrapping his fingers through his new thick blonde locks, and started forcing his head further down.

"This is all in your best interest though. Your sissy side is part of your true nature. Any real man would have fought back by now; but you're not a man, you're not a woman, you're a simpering little sissy bitch. You're a cock-worshiping maid whore and it's time you were treated like one."

With that, Lord Madison grunted and quickly pulled out just in time to shoot load after load of thick, hot cum across Peter's face, coating it completely and making sure to land one into Peter's still gaping mouth.

"Not bad for a first time sissy," He panted, "you still need a lot of work keeping your teeth out of the way though, but I have just the thing." He darted back to the chest and picked something up. As he turned back Peter was just beginning to regain his senses once more and stretching his aching jaw to protest when Lord Madison stuffed it shut with a thick rubber gag that, as Peter realised when he explored it with his tongue, was almost perfectly matched in size and shape with his Lordship's hard cock.

After tightening the buckles on the gag, and ignoring the muffled screams of his new maid, Lord Madison rested on the arm of the chair and whispered in Peter's ear. "I think we'll leave it at that for tonight Francine. It's getting on for midnight so get a good night's sleep now; you've got a long, hard days training in the morning."

Peter could barely move his head to watch him leave, only able to listen to his receding footsteps and stare at the reflection in front of him of a newly minted porn-star fantasy maid, cum dripping down her face onto her heaving chest with only the slight glint of light coming from the chastity device left to connect him to his old life. He tested his bonds, he struggled and screamed into the gag, but escape, for now, was impossible.



To the Manor Bound Ch. 02



This is part two of a series; you'll probably need to read part one to get a grip on what's going on. As with the first part this focuses on forced feminisation including aspects of BDSM and non-con, so if that's not your thing, now would be the time to leave.

Chapter 2 -- The Next Day

Peter was barely able to find a second's worth of sleep that first night and what little he did was haunted by vivid dreams of being chased down a seemingly unending corridor by an outlandish caricature of a bimbo maid. Her huge breasts swayed in time with her footsteps and her face dripped with cum. Around her neck was a tight metal collar with a bell that rang hypnotically in the enclosed space. Finally, she had him corned and pinned down, and leaning in for a kiss she let some of the cum run down from her lips into Peter's mouth. The feeling of her tongue pressing deeply into Peter's mouth seemed to expand and harder as he tried to shake himself free but that only seemed to make the ringing of the collar bell grow louder and louder until finally . . .

Peter woke with a start to find himself still strapped tightly down where he'd been left the night before. The ringing sound continued though and it took a second for Peter to realise where it was coming from as he felt his tightly locked cock throb again and the little bell gave another jangle.

"Pleasant dreams Francine?"

It was Lord Madison, leaning with an elbow against the mantelpiece, a cup of freshly steaming tea in his hand. Gone was the green, tweed three-piece that he'd been wearing the day before now he was standing in a dark Armani suit, neatly tailored and pressed.

He took a sip from the tea as the bell sounded again, Peter's cock was involuntarily straining to get hard against the metal bars of the cage but there was no give and he moaned into his gag.

His lordship smiled and took another long sip from the china cup before resting it on the mantelpiece. He walked confidently around the back of the chair and, leaning in close to Peter, he whispered into his ear.

"I hope you enjoyed last night Francine. Consider it an introduction to the kind of pleasure you might receive if you serve me well enough, but for that to happen you're going to need to be trained." With a flick of his wrists he unlocked one of the restraints that held Peter's arms in place and switched sides to whisper into his other ear, "Learning to correctly serve the house and how to correctly serve your Master." The second wristlock came undone with a click.

Peter stretched his sore arms; they felt almost numb after the night in bondage. When the sensation finally returned he hurriedly began running them up and down his body, pulling on his newly endowed chest to try to remove his new breasts. Lord Madison smiled at this as he leant down to unlock Peter's heels, "Calm down Francine, your body's still going to be there when you're free." With a final pair of clicks Peter was released.

Throughout all the time that he'd lain awake that night Peter had been planning what he'd do when he was finally released and he realised that this was the chance he was looking for. He swung his fist with everything he had at his Lordship's head. The punch landed soundly enough across Lord Madison's jaw, but it barely even phased him and certainly not as much as Peter had been hoping for. It was his only chance though and he took it, staggering uncertainly as he tried to run off.

The heels on the shiny leather boots he was locked into were at least 5 inches higher than the ratty converse trainers he'd been wearing when he'd entered Hambleton Manor the evening before and, to put it mildly, Peter was not used to them. Lord Madison sat back for a second and watched as his new maid managed to waddle a few paces, stumble, waddle again and then finally fall over, his skirt riding up his smooth legs to give a quick flash of panties.

Smiling cruelly to himself, Lord Madison rose back his feet and walked alongside Peter as he tried to crawl his way from the mansion, his arse wiggling as he did so.

"I must admit that was very spirited of you, utterly foolish and I do hope you realise that you will be punished for it, but very spirited. I shall say that I'm very much looking forward to training you to direct all of that energy towards something more . . . pleasurable." He leant down and squeezed Peter's pantie clad arse, all the time keeping an easy pace with the sissy maid crawling at his feet and he even opened the front door to the mansion for him.

"But if you do insist on taking your leave of me, then there you are Francine," his Lordship waved with his hand, "you're free to go!"

Peter looked up at him distrustingly, but not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth he crawled down the steps to the driveway. Peter's mind was so solely focused on reaching the gates that he didn't even notice a brisk gust of wind catching the back of his uniform and lifting it to show anyone who might have been watching a full view of the frilly lingerie and exposed chastity belt.

Upon reaching the bottom step however and touching the driveway Peter also brought his collar over the line of the house and the same electric shockwave that had jolted him last night struck again, only now it was strong enough to knock him onto his back, fully immobilising him. The pain that contracted through his body was so intense he could do nothing but watch as Lord Madison slowly made his way down the mansion's steps in a stately fashion and stood above him.

Peter felt a pair of tough metal handcuffs slide into place and shut tightly before Lord Madison effortlessly bent down, picked him up and carried him back inside over one shoulder.

He could do nothing but watch helplessly as the outside world disappeared once more as he bounced about on his Lordships shoulder. He was carried up the wide central staircase and along the same corridors he'd gone along the night before, this time a door further down. His Lordship balanced him on one shoulder as he opened the door into a wall of pink, yellow and lilac.

"Welcome to your new bedchambers Francine."

Inside the room was a vision of sissy femininity. The wallpaper was bright pink, covered in yellow flowers, and matched by the carpet. Against one wall stood the huge rack of maid's uniforms and lingerie; along the next was the bed he presumed he'd sleep in replete with a pink Barbie princess duvet and a large cuddly bear; and on the final wall was a desk with an enormous vanity mirror on, surrounded by a small mountain of make-up.

Lord Madison sat down on the bed and gestured him over with a finger.

"Now I hope you understand that I'm not going to enjoy this," He said with an unnerving smile spreading uncontrollably over his face, "but your little break for freedom cannot go unpunished. Rest yourself on my lap."

Peter looked around, still nervously looking for a way to escape but as he turned his neck he felt the collar shift around on his neck reminding him what would happen should he try to run and it was with a heavy heart that he staggered his way over to the bed and almost fell over his Lordship's firm legs.

As he wriggled around to try and make himself comfortable Lord Madison unclipped the heavy gag from Peter's mouth and let it drop to the floor. Peter stretched his aching mouth as a long stream of drool was finally allowed to spill onto the floor. Before he had a chance to voice his complaints he felt one firm hand pushing down between his shoulders whilst another lifted the hem of his skirt above his hips and pulled his panties down.

"Hey! You c-"

SMACK!

The sound of his complaints was instantly cut off as his Lordship's hand whipped down onto his bare arsecheeks, the sound reverberating around the room.

SMACK!

For a second Peter was unable to think his mind was so full of shock and pain, and it was only with the third strike that he came to his sense and started trying to wriggle his way out.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

As the pain and the heat built and his arse started shaking Peter finally broke down and started wailing in agony, his tears spilling down his face and smearing his mascara.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

The spanking seemed to go on forever and when his Lordship was finally convinced that Peter had learnt his lesson both of them were panting hard and perspiring. Through the flimsy material of the dress, Peter could distinctly feel his new Master's throbbing erection rubbing against his stomach.

After pausing for a second to catch his breath Lord Madison again picked Peter up in his arms. This time he deposited him on the chair in front of the vanity mirror, but not before hitching his skirt back up so that it was his bare, and now very sore, arse that sat against the rough wood.

"Let's see how much you remember from last night about making yourself presentable for your Master. Until you've practiced and perfected your technique enough to please me I'm going to have to inspect your daily application of make-up, and, so that you learn quickly, you will be given a mark out of 100. For every demerit under the perfect score you will be spanked 5 times on your arse. Do you understand?"

Peter pouted, but he was learning the error of arguing too much with his Lordship so he simply nodded in reply.

"Then get started slut, start by cleaning off what's left from yesterday and then build again. I'll be back in ten minutes to check up on your progress," and with that he strolled out of the room.

Realising that he didn't have much time to get ready and fearing another spanking Peter worked as quickly as he could with his trembling hands but his speed was going against him as he smeared the lipstick too thickly and left his eyes uneven. Such was the poor job that he did that when Lord Madison returned he burst out laughing at the very sight of him.

"Bwahahaha! You don't even look like a sissy-whore, you look like a clown!"

Peter felt his face blushing red at this new and unexpected humiliation, but found himself unable to find an answer as to why he felt so embarrassed at his poorly done job.

"This isn't fair!" he protested, "I've never done this before!"

"Of course you haven't" Lord Madison said sarcastically, barely managing to hold back a laugh. "Well I never expected you to get it perfect first time, so, start again."

On and on it went throughout the morning, Peter ended up applying his make-up six more times before Lord Madison was finally satisfied.

"Well you could do with dropping the pout," He said as he raised Peter's chin upwards and looked him over, "but otherwise I'd say that this merits a good 85 or 86. Do this well again tomorrow morning and your arse will barely be pink let alone red." With that he bent closer and kissed Peter deeply on the lips, forcing his tongue into Peter's mouth.

Peter tried to move back in an instinctive shock at the unexpected invasion into his mouth, but there was nowhere he could go and nothing he could do but moan in protest at his Lordships darting tongue and rough stubble.

"Not bad Francine, but you need to train your mouth to a higher standard. A sissy though you are, you should at least show me the correct level of respect. This is one of the very many problems that ingrate subservients like you seem to have: you've forgotten the very basics of demeanour when addressing one of your superiors. Repeat after me 'Yes your Lordship, thank you Lord Madison.'"

Peter looked up at him, blinking his mascara heavy eyelashes and whined sarcastically, "Thank you Lord Madison!"

His Lordship hesitated for a second and stroked his chin, "That's 10 demerits sissy. You'll receive your punishment before you go to bed. I think your punishment will take the form of a caning since it's your first day, now try again with the correct sissy attitude."

Peter hesitated for a second, the words sticking in his throat, the spanking had been bad enough and now he was being threatened with a caning. He stuttered a little as he finally chimed the words back at his master, "Y-yes your Lordship, Thank you Lord M-m-madison."

"That's much better Francine; do you see how much easier adapting to your new life would be if you just accept your place? But, if you will continue to act so stubbornly then I'll have no recourse but to readjust your attitude the old fashioned way. Stand up."

His Lordship gave the order with a snap of his tongue, it was clear that it was no request and that he fully expected Peter to comply but it was still to Peter's surprise that he found himself standing up automatically. Once standing though Peter was still unsteady on his heels, staggering and skidding about before falling into Lord Madison's firm chest and wrapping his arms around for support.

"No, no, no. I appreciate the enthusiasm that you're showing for my body Francine but this won't do at all. Deportment is vital for sissies like you; I simply cannot have you showing me up in front of guests by behaving like quite such a common slut. For a start it's high time you learnt how to curtsey."

Peter blushed deeply and stammered in protest at Lord Madison's presumptions as to why he had fallen, but his words fell on deaf ears as his Lordship ignored him and reached into an inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a large lead weight linked to a long, thin silver chain. Pulling Peter close to him again Lord Madison stared deeply into his eyes as he pushed a hand under the hem of the maid's uniform and hooked the weight onto Peter's chastity belt. He kissed him gently on the lips before allowing the lead weight to drop freely from his hand.

Peter squealed as the chastity belt started pulling harder on his straining balls and it took a second or two of gasping before he was able to follow his Lordship's instructions.

"Now, you are to take a hold of the hem of your skirt with both hands, cross your knees and lower yourself until you feel the weight on your calves, then say 'Thank you, your Lordship' and wait for me to either acknowledge you or leave the room, at which point you may rise again."

Peter's cock, little though it was, throbbed and strained against the bars of his cage as he was forced into practicing the belittling practice again and again, repeating the dainty little gesture until he was finally doing it to Lord Madison's demanding standard.

"It will do for now Francine, I suppose you'll be able to perfect it with time. You are to curtsy whenever you greet me, whenever I allow you to leave my presence, and whenever you are given an order or a compliment, do you understand?"

Peter sniffled slightly and nodded mutely whilst staring at his shoes to which Lord Madison responded with a sigh and another mark into his pocket notebook.

"I know you're a sissy, and I intend to turn you into an airheaded bimbo one, but even you can't be so dim as to forget a warning five seconds after it was given, can you?"

Peter squirmed on his heels and pouted a little unconsciously before realising that he was facing another demerit and quickly spread his skirt as he curtsied, "No, your Lordship."

No sooner had he finished speaking than his empty stomach rumbled a chorus.

"Was that a complaint Francine?" Lord Madison grinned evilly, "I suppose it is lunchtime and I did deny you breakfast, so there's no better time to learn your kitchen duties."

Without a further second's delay Lord Madison spun Peter around, catching his wrists and pulling them behind his back and re-cuffing them. After attaching a thin silver chain leash to Peter's collar Lord Madison dragged him half-stumbling further down the hallway to a second winding staircase that spiralled downwards to the servants working quarters.

Lord Madison leant backwards on a heavy wooden door and pushed it open to reveal an old-fashioned, country-house kitchen, replete with an aga, a wide oak table, and, oddly, a pair of new chrome refrigerators against the far wall. The rest of the kitchen though had evidently not been cleaned in some weeks: plates were stacked ten or more high by the sink, there didn't seem to be a clean pan in the whole kitchen, and the floor was covered with dust and crumbs.

"Ah the unfortunate effects of a bachelor lifestyle. I'm sure you'll appreciate that it's simply beneath my station to even consider doing housework; it's simply not becoming a gentleman of status, or any real man come to that. I'm sure though that with a little training and reinforcement a sissy like you will come to love it."

Peter's hands remained restrained tightly behind his back as Lord Madison proceeded to demonstrate to him the correct manner in which he liked his steaks to be prepared. The smell filled Peter's nostrils and he drooled with anticipation as his Lordship lifted the steak from the pan and left it to rest on a plate. He then watched with mounting disappointment as Lord Madison prepared a second plate with a sparse sprinkling of a leafy green salad.

"Doesn't your lunch look tasty Francine? After all, we can't have you ruining your new figure with fatty foods. But I'm forgetting the dressing!"

Lord Madison strode back to the two refrigerators at the back of the kitchen and opened one to reveal shelf after shelf of identical plastic jars, each about the size of a can of coke, labelled by hand in an indecipherable foreign script, and two thirds full with a thick, white sauce.

After pushing Peter down by his shoulders onto a rough wooden stool, which sat a foot lower than the virtual throne at the other end of the table, Lord Madison pulled the salad plate in front of Peter. Lowering his head so it was barely an inch away from the young sissy maid's face, Lord Madison groped at Peter's new chest with one hand as he drizzled a jar of the dressing over the salad with the other.

"I do hope you'll enjoy this Francine," He whispered into his ear, "Not that it really matters if you don't, but seeing as how you're going to have this sauce with every meal you take from now on I'm sure you'll come to simply love it. It's just the product of a few little investments I made a couple of months ago in anticipation of this meeting."

The salad dressing was in fact composed of three parts female hormones to one part ground up Viagra to ten parts cum. The vast quantities of fresh semen needed for this originated from a string of sperm donor banks privately owned by Lord Madison from which he managed to discretely siphon off a few gallons a month, not that Peter would ever be told any of this.

With a flick of his hands Lord Madison unlocked Peter's hands again, removed the gag and sat down to eat. Peter had now not eaten for almost 24 hours and in spite of his suspicions regarding the dressing and why he'd been given so much he stuffed as much as he could into his open mouth, ignoring the oddly familiar salty taste of the sauce.

Lord Madison on the other hand languidly picked apart his thick steak whilst occasionally turning a page of the copy of that morning's Financial Times he was reading, leaving Peter to stare on and drool.

When his Lordship had finally finished he pushed the plate back down the table towards Peter.

"Time for your first official duties as my sissy maid Francine: I've got some business to attend to in my study but I'm sure even an air-headed ditz like you can manage the simple task of washing up dishes. But, to give you a little incentive, stand up and bend over."

Peter staggered to his feet and bent slightly forward over the table leaning on his hands, not yet realising how much of his new cleavage he was displaying. Lord Madison carefully wiped his mouth with a napkin and neatly folded his paper before walking around to behind Peter and, with one hand, pushing him all the way down and pinning him to the table.

Peter squealed in shock at the sudden movement but it wasn't until he felt the hem of his skirt, petticoats, and panties being lifted that he started struggling again, but by now all it took were a few well directed slaps from his Lordship's hands to stop the young maid's squirming. All it took to start the squirming again though was the cold touch of lube and the smooth pressure of a slim buttplug pressing against Peter's tight virgin arse.




To the Manor Bound Ch. 02



"No! No stop! You can't, you caaaargh!" Peter squealed as the thickest part of the plug entered him and then popped tightly into place.

"This is all in your best interest Francine," Lord Madison lent over Peter and pressed his body down on top of him, whispering closely, "Believe me when I say that you will thank me for stretching you one day."

His Lordship let his hands linger as he groped at Peter's arse before twisting the base of the butt-plug in such a way that the bulb split and expanded, filling Peter's arse and locking it tightly in. Then with a final flourish Lord Madison flicked a switch on the bottom of the plug that turned on a twenty minute vibration cycle.

Lord Madison stayed on top of Peter and nibbled on his earlobe as he instructed him, "I shall be back to remove your plug once you've got this little mess sorted out. But don't worry your dim little sissy brain over being abandoned," he pointed to a corner of the ceiling where a CCTV camera pivoted automatically, "I'll be keeping a close eye on you all the time. Start slacking off and I'll shock you till you can't stand, try to eat some of my food and I'll put in a ball gag and lock it so the only way to feed you will be by enema. Do not disappoint me Francine, do you understand?"

With that, his Lordship stood up straight again and readjusted his necktie whilst the bare-arsed sissy on the kitchen table in front of him gasped for as much air as his tight corset would allow. It was only with a barely suppressed moan that Peter managed to get back up to his feet and curtsey, albeit whilst grimacing at the painful pulsing and vibrating coming from his pert arse. "Yes your Lordship," he answered.

"Good girl."

And with that he strode off, leaving Peter alone to toil and sweat in the tight latex uniform. It was the first time that Peter had been alone and unshackled since he had first visited Hambleton Manor the day before; the first time he'd properly been able to think about his situation and how he might be able to escape, and have the ability to act upon it.

But it was impossible; not just escaping but even thinking about how to escape. Peter's mind was being slowly overtaken by his mounting sex-drive as the Viagra began to kick in, and soon his slim four-inch cock was swelling in its tight little cage, pressing hard against the bars. When this was coupled with the butt-plug moving into a high vibration phase of its cycle Peter was unable to control himself and was soon bent over the sink moaning girlishly, a bead of pre-cum dribbling from his cock.

His hands flickered for a second as he tried to stop himself from shoving them under his petticoats to try and relieve his frustration but there was no way he would allow himself to be belittled like that. Instead he found himself standing closer and closer to the sink, trying desperately to rub himself against the kitchen cabinet beneath without using his hands, but thanks to the thick layers of crinoline, satin and lace his tiny cock just got lost in an enveloping wall of fabric that did nothing but tickle, caress and torture his denied cock.

***

In his private study on the third floor Lord Madison reclined in his chair and smiled sadistically as he watched his new sissy maid practically hump the sink in frustration via the CCTV feed on his laptop. He began slowly stroking the growing bulge in his trousers and contemplated running downstairs, bending the sissy over the sink and forcefully fucking him, stretching him wide with his cock until he cried out in lust and pain. Fucking with deep, long thrusts that grew faster and faster until he came, shooting load after load of hot cum deep inside the quivering sissy maid who still be denied the pleasure and release that his body was screaming for.

However, he carefully managed to settle his libido just enough to control himself; he had larger, longer-term plans in mind for his new sissy maid. He wanted to break Peter in slowly, carefully warping his mind and bending his will step by step until he broke down and fully begged for Lord Madison to fuck him, until the directionless young man was gone and the perfect bimbo sissy maid inside was formed in body and spirit.

He smiled again as he saw Peter finally gave up and quickly thrust a hand under his petticoats to try and stroke some pleasure into his cock. Lord Madison didn't even have to leave his padded leather armchair as he flicked the button that sent a mid-voltage shock directly to Peter's collar, after all he couldn't have his sissy maid thinking that her pleasure mattered. Lord Madison started stroking his hard dick through his trousers again; it was going to be a long, hard training process and Lord Madison was going to enjoy every second of it.



To the Manor Bound Ch. 03



[So I finally got around to finishing chapter three, apologies for the delay. As with the other two chapters this includes forced feminisation, BDSM, and non-con, so it might not be your cup of tea. Regardless do comment and email me to let me know what you think, or just to say hello!] 

***** 

Chapter 3 -- Three Weeks after Transformation 

"Now it is very important at this stage not to lose eye-contact. I know that it will be your first instinct to look down and admire the cock that you are sucking, but you need to remember why you are doing this: it is about your master's pleasure, not yours, and he will most assuredly enjoy seeing the pleading in your eyes." 

Peter's eyes were not pleading: they were starting to glaze over as the video moved on to the most pleasurable ways in which to use the tongue on the head of a cock. He was now nearing the end of his third week's training with Lord Madison and he had recently moved into a new phase of education. After being instructed in most of the anachronistic methods which Lord Madison demanded he used to prepare and maintain his household he was beginning to be trained in the correct ways in which to please the master of the house. 

It had been three days now since the door to the East Wing -- the former "Hambleton Manor Private Reformatory School for Wayward Young Ladies" -- had been re-opened. The classrooms were still more or less intact, with rows of hard wooden chairs attached to simple wooden desks, their surfaces still etched with 40 year old graffiti -- 'Kitty loves fisting', 'Ms Keenwell has a cock', and 'Charlotte N.'s breath smells of my pussy' were among the least obscene. 

The glee in Lord Madison's face was barely contained as he watched the young sissy strip out of his lacy maid's outfit and into his new schoolgirl's uniform, though in truth it was scarcely more than a scrap of cloth pretending to be a shirt that left Peter's new breasts half falling out of the bottom and half bursting out at the top, and a pleated skirt that was closer in size to a large belt. 

The current instructional video was just one of many specially commissioned by Lord Madison. It was close to three hours in length and went into minute detail about blowjobs, their practice and their history -- "Though this latter section may seem of little practical use to you now it may one day prove to be useful young sissy, as you may be expected to converse with a superior during post-coital relaxation, and this is one of the few topics which will be considered appropriate for you," the tape explained. 

The man giving the instructional course was not Lord Madison himself, but a man in his late fifties with tufty white hair and a bit of a paunch who introduced himself as 'Professor van Buren'. He would occasionally demonstrate certain aspects of the lecture with a slightly misty-eyed young bimbo he referred to as 'Bobbi'. 

Peter did wonder briefly at one point as to why, if the videos were newly produced, why they would occasionally flicker with black and static. Of course, were he able to unchain himself from his desk, if he paused the DVD at the correct moment he might see one of the interstitial, subliminal hypnotic messages Lord Madison had had implanted throughout the training, including, 

'YOU LOVE TO SUCK COCK' 

'MASTER KNOWS BEST' 

and simply, 'OBEY' 

But he knew he could not afford to look away for a second; the examination his Lordship would give him when he returned would quickly tell how closely he'd been paying attention. Peter shifted uncomfortably on his chair at the very thought. His arse was still striped with bright crimson marks from the caning he had received the previous afternoon after failing to achieve a passing grade in an examination on the correct manner in which to address various dignities who may visit Hambleton Manor: "No, no, no, you ditzy little slut. A bishop is 'Your Excellency', an archbishop is 'Your Grace'. If you're going to make the silly mistakes of a schoolgirl then you'll need to be punished like one. Skirt up, bend over, hands on the desk, count them and thank me as we go, ONE! . . . " 

That his arse was lying bare against the rough wood of the school chair was not helping Peter overcome the discomfort, nor was the fact that he was required to keep his soft silk panties tight around his ankles with his legs spread as part of his punishment. 

Trying to find a modicum of comfort by shifting around on his chair though only served to remind him of the new, larger buttplug that was firmly stuck between his tight little cheeks. Peter blushed a little as he remembered how Lord Madison had snuck up behind him when he had been washing up, pinning his body against the sink, and thrust a hand under his maid's skirt, before bringing it back with a finger coated in the pre-cum that was dripping from Peter's tightly bound cock. 

"Well I'm glad to see that you're making friends with your little plug Francine, in fact, since you're enjoying it so much I'll let you keep it in as a reward for completing this little chore. No, no, there's no need to thank me now, consider it noblesse oblige and all that." And with that he stuck his finger, still glistening with pre-cum into Peter's lipstick painted mouth and ordered him to lick it clean, "After all, I'm sure I'll think of a way for you to thank me later." 

That had been two plugs ago. It seemed as though as soon as he was finally growing used to the size of the one he was wearing then his Lordship would bring out an incrementally bigger one. 

The DVD commentary broke back through his clouded mind and brought Peter back to the here and now, "At this point, if your hands are not bound, then you should begin to pay attention to your Master's balls," the professor continued, "remember to simply caress gently them at first." 

It was an hour and a half later, after 'Bobbi' had just taken her fifth load of cum directly to the face following some intensive training circle blowjob orgy training, that Lord Madison re-entered the classroom. His shirtsleeves were rolled up neatly past his elbows, and, whilst his waistcoat was still buttoned tightly, his jacket was tidily folded over one arm. 

"Well Francine, do you think the good Professor here has taught you anything?" He leant on the large widescreen television as he turned it off with a flick of his fingers. 

"Yes Lord Madison, I think so," Peter chimed back, still a hint of sarcasm in his voice, though Peter was learning to hide it deeper and deeper inside. It was simply 'Lord Madison' though; at this stage it was almost automatic for him to call his Lordship by his title. Peter tried to recall what his given name was but the fact was gone from his mind: he was now simply Lord Madison. 

"Well I'm sure we'll find out for certain later on," He said, picking up a meter ruler from the desk and giving it a playful little bend and a menacing little swish through the air. "We shall find out later on because you've more pressing duties to attend to this afternoon," He looked around the classroom and out into the corridor, "Quite frankly this place is in the most intolerable state of disarray, Francine you've been slacking far too much in your domestic duties so I'm going to be monitoring you today as you begin your rounds on the East Wing." 

After freeing Peter's shackles from the desk where they were bound, but keeping them tightly locked to his wrists, Lord Madison presented his young sissy maid with a choice of three maid's uniforms and instructed him to pick out the one he thought prettiest. "After all, you're going to be cleaning with an audience today and I don't want my maid to look frumpy," he explained. 

Blushing fiercely, Peter pointed out a light pink satin and yellow gingham uniform with a matching duster, which he was shortly afterwards zipped tightly into, though the hemline was far shorter than he first anticipated and it rode a little higher up Peters smooth, milk-white thighs with every step he took. 

"Let's see if you can manage without the leash this time, follow me." 

Peter hesitated for a moment before trotting off after Lord Madison, still tottering a little on his high heels but now starting to be able to display a little more grace on them. He caught up with his Lordship at the far end of the corridor where he was leaning against a supply cupboard door. Leaning against the door frame Lord Madison swung the door open to the supply closet 

"Now I know you've never had to clean this wing before Francine, and frankly it shows, but I think we're going to do things a little differently here. You're starting to get slack with your training young lady, and I simply will not brook such indolence, I'm going to have to start combining the separate strands of your instruction in order to complete your transformation into my sissy maid." 

Peter interrupted, "What are you tal-" 

His Lordship cut him off abruptly, "I know that this is a lot for your silly little mind to take in sissy, but I'm sure you'll come to agree that it's the only way for you to progress. And don't worry, I won't forget to add on a further 10 punishment spanks tonight for that little outburst." 

Peter bit his bottom lip, tasting the fruity wax of his lipstick. He'd been doing well in avoiding further canings so far, in spite of how much he wanted to scream in Lord Madison's face at the unfairness of his treatment he didn't want to risk another night sleeping on his stomach with his bare arse burning against his ruffled, pink silk duvet cover. The flimsy little negligée his Lordship "allowed him" to sleep in barely came down past his navel, making his cock bounce up and down as he gave his required curtsey to his Lordship goodnight. 

Lord Madison reached into the closet and pulled out a familiar looking penis gag - modelled after his own dick, but reduced in size - but on the front there was a screw threaded indentation. 

"Give it a kiss and open wide Francine," Lord Madison smirked as he moved the tip of the plastic cock close to Peters face. 

Still blushing deeply in spite of how often this ritual had happened to him since he had first arrived, Peter gave the head a little peck and then open his mouth wide, now knowing how much he needed to be able to relax to take it in. 

"Mmmph, glurghen umph," Peter started trying to shake his head as the tip brushed lightly against the back of his throat. 

"Now, now, no biting Francine; you know the rules, besides you're going to have to keep it in to perform your cleaning duties, observe," Lord Madison lifted a mop head from a shelf inside the closet and, lifting it up to Peter's face, slowly screwed it into place on the front of the gag, turning Peter into a living, breathing mop. 

The smell of stale water directly underneath Peter's nose was almost nauseating in its persistence, as wherever he turned his head the mop would follow. Instinctively he lifted his hands to remove it but was stopped before he could even touch it by his Lordship's firm grasp. 

"Always looking for the easy way out sissy, tsk tsk." He grinned and pulled Peter's hands down behind his back, pulling him closer as he did. "I can see that I'm going to have to impress upon you once more the standards that I require of my personal staff." 

His Lordship started undoing the thick ribbons that held Peter's corseted dress in place, but stopped after the first handful of eyelets, letting out just enough slack that Peter's breasts spilled out from the dress. Then, taking Peter's arms behind his back in one hand, Lord Madison used the free length of ribbon to bind them tightly, once above the elbow and again below the wrist, such that the more Peter tried to free himself the tighter his corset was drawn. 

Lord Madison pulled him closer -- tight enough that Peter could feel his thick dick pressing between his arsecheeks, stretching the silky fabric of his panties over his hairless arsehole and tickling his balls with the lace -- and then slowly lowered him to the floor. 

"You see Francine, when you mop in such a position you will have no excuses for missing a single spot. Well, what are you waiting for girl? Get cleaning!" 

Peter let out a half-sarcastic, half-involuntary, and entirely muffled, "Yes your Lordship," and started moving his head around in tight circles as he crawled across the wooden floor. He grew more deeply displeased and ashamed as he discovered that the mop-head wiggled the tip of the rubber cock around inside his mouth as he scrubbed. 

Lord Madison stepped back and leant against a wall, allowing himself a brief satisfied smirk as he looked up Peter's dress. There was no sight of any hair regrowth on Peter's now smooth, pale thighs. 

If Peter thought that the mop-head smelt bad, sticking his entire head into the bucket to rinse it off was enough to make him gag -- though, as Lord Madison reminded him, it was something of a moot point as the rubber cock stuffed down his throat was making him gag as well. But, some two hours or so later, the wooden floor was shining like glass and just as reflective. Peter sat back on his haunches, looking up at Lord Madison pleadingly with his big, mascara lined eyes, whilst Lord Madison looked down first at his cleavage and then at the reflection in the floor of what lay under his skirt, and smiled at how his cock was straining against its cage. 

After taking another long, slow look around him Lord Madison raised Peter's chin with a finger, letting a little dribble of mop water run down between his breasts. 

"Yes my maid, this is good enough, for now." He said, and slowly unscrewed the mop head from the gag, letting it fall into the bucket with a little splash. "But I'll let you keep the gag, seeing as you seem to be enjoying it so. Not the same as the real thing I know, but since you're drooling all over it I'll let you keep up the practice. You'll need it." 

Peter winced at this last part, not least because from the position he was bound in it was impossible to look up at Lord Madison without his gaze first resting on the bulge in his tight trousers. 

"But simmer down Francine, I know you're a horny little slut but work must come before pleasure -- well before your pleasure at least, my pleasure come before you," he laughed as he added, "and then of course my pleasure cums on you. But, for the moment, you need to get your mind back onto the job; you've mopped but these rugs are still a disgrace." 

Peter had finished mopping at the junction of the East wing and the central lobby, where a thick Persian rug lay. Ornately designed but murky and clouded by dust and time it had been brought back from the orient by Lord Madison's paternal great-grandfather after his time as Governor of Hong Kong -- a position for which his name is still synonymous with both debauchery and abuse of power - but the forty years or so in which the Manor had lain empty had left the carpet in a rather sorry looking state. 

"As you will hopefully have gathered in the time you have spent under my roof, whilst I am liberally progressive in my choice of domestic servants I rather tend to prefer more established methods of domestic maintenance. I will not allow vacuum cleaners inside my Manor, they inculcate an air of indolence to the domestic staff, you're going to have to learn how to use a carpet beater." 

As Peter bent on his stocking clad knees to roll up the heavy carpet Lord Madison made one final return to the cleaning closet, returning swinging an old fashioned carpet beater in his hands as though it were a walking cane. 

"Pick it up and follow me." 

After tottering on his heels for a moment Peter managed to take the rug into his arms and he meekly followed after his Lordship, walking across the tiled lobby floor and through the grand ballroom that lay behind it, eventually emerging into the rear courtyard across which a line had been strung. 

Peter blinked as he stepped out into the bright early afternoon sunshine. It was the first time that he'd been allowed outside of his luxurious mansion prison in days as the only outbuilding which needed cleaning were the long set of stables where a coterie of horses had once been kept, and Lord Madison had informed him he would hire a stable boy for that -- "but then you'd probably enjoy that just as much as cleaning it out, wouldn't you sissy? A hot young stud, shirtless and sweaty . . . focus little sissy girl, focus!" 

After several attempts, and much derisive commentary and mocking laughter from his Lordship, Peter finally managed to hook the heavy rug over the line and started beating. The constant diet of salads and cum though had left Peter even weaker than he had been when first been taken into Hambleton Manor and whilst he managed to build up a thin film of sweat on his forehead swinging with all his might he could dislodge very little of the deeply engrained dirt. He tried once more swing, making his enormous fake breasts jiggle beneath his nose as he twisted his body, before collapsing exhausted onto the grass. 

Lord Madison shook his head theatrically as he inspected the carpet with a keen eye, pulling out a monocle for theatrical effect when taking a closer look, and saying, "I suppose I shouldn't really have expected someone with wrists as limp as yours to be able to shake much dust off, but this really is slack work Francine. If I'm going to have to instruct you on how to perform every single little action then I'm afraid I'm going to have to do so more persuasively." 

Forcefully manhandling him Lord Madison lifted first one wrist to the line and then the other, attaching his maid-in-training's wrist-cuffs to the washing line with a click. Try as he might Peter was unable to rotate his hands enough to unhook the cuffs from the line, though it didn't stop him from wriggling and shaking. 

Peter blushed deeply once more as Lord Madison lifted up all of the hems of the frilly layers of his skirt in one hand, rolled them up and, taking a peg from the line, attached them to the waist of the maid's uniform; all of this having the effect of exposing Peters panty clad arse and chastity clad cock to the open air, not that they were panty clad for very long as his Lordship roughly pulled the silk and lace thong down to his ankles. Peter was completely exposed to the world as a sissy maid about to be punished. 

Lord Madison came close behind him and loosed the straps of the cock-gag, letting it fall loosely around Peter's slender neck. The thick rubber cock now dangling between his breasts leaving a trail of drool running down. Peter gasped deeply for air, his jaw now too tired to complain of his mis-treatment. He took the opportunity to try and relax for a moment, to regain some of his composure. It was an opportunity however which did not last for long. 

THWACK! 

Peter let out a high-pitched squeal as Lord Madison swung the carpet beater hard onto his unprotected arse cheeks. 

THWACK! 

"That is how you beat a carpet Francine! 

THWACK! 

With the correct application of vigour and determination!" 

THWACK! 

"Please stop!" 

His lordship leant forward and placed the intricate cane weaving over its matching welt on his maid's quivering backside, taking precise care to line each shot up and leave a most attractive pattern on each cheek. 

THWACK! 

Lord Madison gripped the beater with both hands and swung in a fashion modelled after a cricketing cut-shot, though he had not played from a number of years, and with enough force to bend the willow handle quite considerably. 

THWACK! 

"Enough! Please!" 

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! 

Finally, some minutes later, when they were both panting hard from the exertion, Lord Madison allowed the carpet beater to fall at his side, stepped forward and released his maid from his bondage. Peter collapsed to the floor and gently rubbed at his now very tender arse cheeks. 




To the Manor Bound Ch. 03



Seeing his young sissy maid bent over and pawing at his tight little arse was more than enough to re-vitalise Lord Madison's flagging strength, and, whilst Peter was still trying to recover himself, his Lordship picked him up with one arm and the carpet with the other, carrying them both back into the house, rolling the rug back into position with a flick of his wrists. 

"Well Francine that's one room down meaning that you've only got 46 left to go before this wing of the manor is back up to my standard of expectations. But there's no sense in having a clean house with a dirty maid, is there?" He slowly wiped a finger over the beads of sweat on Peter's forehead. "I think we'd better get you cleaned up before I allow you to prepare me my supper." 

Taking him by the collar Lord Madison led the way up one of the wooden spiral staircases that wind their way upwards at the ends of the wings of the house, miniature versions of the grand central staircase in the lobby. They stopped at the second floor and walked down one of the seemingly endless warren of corridors, so thickly carpeted that Peter's five inch heels sunk and he stumbled a little, but it only served to make him realise how well, and how quickly, he had adapted to constantly walking about in strappy, teetering stripper heels. 

Finally Lord Madison pushed on a door in the centre of the corridor which opened into an expansive, white-tiled bathroom in the centre of which stood an antique claw-footed bathtub. Lord Madison immediately started filling it up: first with hot water and then from a seemingly never ending variety of bubble-baths, bath salts, moisturising creams and smaller, unlabelled bottles whose contents Lord Madison handled at an arm's length; the combined effects of which were to fill the entire room with an almost overwhelmingly feminine perfume and the tub with mountains of bright pink bubbles. 

Pleased with the results Lord Madison sat down in an antique wicker chair, sitting at the foot of the tub with a towel draped over its back. "Whilst we're waiting for your bath to fill you'd better get undressed Francine," He leaned back in the chair, the wicker creaking a little in the steamy air, "but since I'm here you really ought to make a decent showing of it for your master: strip for me, show me just how sexy a slut you can be." 

Hurriedly thinking back to the lessons he had watched on stripping Peter found that he was able to recall a disconcerting amount with ease -- both of the actual instructions and the leisurely ease with which the Professor had masturbated whilst 'Bobbi' stripped into and out of a series of revealing costumes. The lesson had centred on the acronym DRESS, they claimed so that the fashion-centred sissy mind would find it easier to remember: Dance, Rub, Engage, Slowly, Strip, all set to a pulsingly hypnotic beat. Peter found himself whispering the refrain under his breath. 

Blushing as soon as he started to move Peter danced as sexily as he could, mimicking the gyrations of thrusting he had witnessed in the video, placing his new body on display as best he could. The he moved onto Rubbing: 'prove to your Master or Mistress that you enjoy your body as much as they do,' and Peter began pawing at his breasts, his arse and his thighs, all over his body and trying to make his face look as though he was enjoying it, though the blushing and lip biting was still a giveaway at how humiliating he was finding it. 

It only got worse for Peter as he moved onto Engage: wobbling towards where Lord Madison was sitting and leaning forward he brought his body as close to his Lordships as possible without touching, moving up and down and doing his best to try and keep eye-contact with his lecherous gaze, and allowing the fabric of his dress to pull back further and further revealing more of his body. 

Finally, Slowly Strip: Peter pulled back, turned his back and gradually unzipped his dress, but keeping it pressed against his breasts in such a way that it didn't fall too soon. He turned back around and instantly blushed deeper than he had so far as Lord Madison had freed his cock from his trousers and it stood at attention in appreciation of the dancing sissy in front of him. Not expecting this, Peter was so shocked at this sight that he lost his grip on his dress and it fell around his ankles in a crumpled heap of satin and lace. 

Peter was so embarrassed, so humiliated, so mortified with shame at the way he had been acting that for a moment he froze up, his hands on his blushing cheeks and his big breasts swinging freely. He only regained his composure when he felt Lord Madison's hands reach forward and wrap around his waist, pulling him back onto his Lordship's lap and bending him over. 

"No need to be so coy Francine, you were doing an excellent job; if being my maid doesn't work out for you then I'm sure I'll be able to find you bountiful employ in a strip-club somewhere, but of course you can't consider yourself a stripper if you're still wearing these!" 

At that Lord Madison reached down and firmly yanked down Peter's panties till they were resting on the tips of his stiletto heels. Peter squirmed all over as his Lordship ran his hands over his increasingly curvy body, finally letting one rest between his arse cheeks. Lord Madison took a hold of the plug still tightly wedged there, and with a twist began pulling on it until it finally came free with a pop that was still audible over Peter's hi-pitched squeal of pain. 

From the way he was bent over Peter couldn't see what was going and could only listen to the viscous sound of fresh lube being applied to something and his Lordships intensifying breathing. Suddenly a new sensation overtook Peter's slender body as Lord Madison roughly inserted first one finger and then another into his once virgin arsehole. 

If Peter thought he was squirming before then it was as nothing compared to the way he wriggled as Lord Madison slowly start moving his fingers in and out, in and out. Peter had had a variety of plugs in his arsehole before but he had never been fucked by anything and when his Lordship added a third finger and twisted it was enough to make Peter cry out. 

Then, as quickly as he had started Lord Madison stopped, "Not yet sissy. I'm sure you want to but not yet; you're still too tight for me, still that's what training's all for. Speaking of which let's see what you've managed to pick up about the fine art of blowjobs. On your knees Francine." 

Lord Madison slid Peter from his lap down onto the tiled floor, laced his fingers behind his head, and leaned back in the chair. Peter looked up expectantly, he'd been forced to suck his Lordship's cock before, but almost always with a hand on the back of his head forcing him onwards, now he was expected to do it himself. 

With shaking fingers he finished unzipping his Lordship's trousers and, whilst biting his lip, took a hold of his Master's cock, already throbbing and rock hard. Peter remembered back to the lessons and looked up past the hard dick, trying to make eye contact with his Lordship, and making what he hoped was coming across as an expression of pleading. 

"Please may I suck your cock your Lordship?" 

Lord Madison looked down at the wide-eyed expression on his maid's face and gave him a subdued nod of appreciation. Peter fought against his urges and brought his face close against the huge cock, inhaled deeply and smiled before moving his head down the shaft to the balls, sticking out his tongue and giving them a small, playful lick. At the same time he wrapped both of his delicate manicured hands around his Lordships cock and started to stroke. 

The pain of Peter's recent spanking with the carpet beater had barely even begun to subside and so the thought of potential punishment was high in his mind as he began slowly licking upwards from the base of the cock in a single motion. The salty taste of cock only grew stronger in Peter's mouth as he neared the head and the dribbling pre-cum. 

And then he froze, with his tongue lolling out of his lipstick painted lips. He knew the next step --and indeed Professor Van Buren's instructions came back to him, 'give the head a cute little kiss and then take all the shaft into your throat as far as you can.' -- but he found himself unable to go through with it. 

Lord Madison looked down at him, "I can see that we're making progress here Sissy, so I'm not going to punish you, but it does rather look like I'm still going to have to guide you along with a helping hand." 

With that Peter felt the now almost familiar sensation of his Lordship's hand wrapping itself in his long blonde hair and forcing his head down onto the shaft. The gagging was still there, but after so many weeks with the gag as a constant presence Peter was now finding it immeasurably easier. 

Keeping his hand in his maid's hair Lord Madison controlled the pace of the blowjob. Sometimes speeding up and practically fucking his face, sometimes holding him in place at the base so that his whole body shook with the gagging, and sometimes holding him in place at the head and directing Peter in how to use his tongue and lips. But what gave his Lordship the most pleasure was the way in which Peter now automatically wrapped his fingers around the shaft and met the pace of his thrusts. 

Seeing his sissy maid look up at him through his increasingly dishevelled with a look of pleading longing in his eyes was all that it took to push Lord Madison over the edge and he started cumming in waves, shooting load after load, first down Peter's throat and then pulling out to paint his face with cum. As he did so he leant forward and thrust his fingers back into the young maid's arsehole, this time gently running a fingertip around his prostate in a deliberate act to try and instil into the young maid an association between his Master's orgasm and his own pleasure. 

Peter gasped at the new sensation but was only rewarded with his now open mouth filling once more with cum, as there was no orgasm coming for the young maid: the lust was simply built up to nothing and soon Peter lay on the floor, panting and moaning, his locked up clit dribbling pre-cum onto the tiles and his face still dripping with his Lordship's semen. 

Lord Madison stood up and washed his hands, looking down at his sissy maid as he did so with a look halfway between lust at this naked blonde bimbo of a maid, intrigue at how wantonly his cock was throbbing in its cage, and pride of accomplishment at how far down the road of degradation he had taken the young man already. 

"Clean yourself up," he said, dropping the towel at Peter's feet, and walked out of the room, "Slut."



To the Manor Bound Ch. 04



This probably won't make too much sense unless you've read the other chapters first. Like the other chapters this includes forced feminisation, BDSM, and non-con, so it might not be your cup of tea. Regardless, do comment and email me to let me know what you think, or just to say hello! 

***** 

Chapter 4 - Five Weeks After Transformation 

Peter held the dustpan and brush at an arm's reach away from him - partly to avoid breathing in any of the fine grey ash that lined the fireplace, and partly to avoid risking any further punishment from Lord Madison for a dirty uniform. It was only when he was more than halfway through his clearing of the fireplace that he realised what it was he was sweeping up: his previous life. He was cleaning the room in which Lord Madison had originally transformed him into the sissy maid he now was: these ashes were the burnt remains of his male clothes, his wallet, and his old identity. 

Peter bit his lip at the implications but he knew that he needed to keep cleaning if he was going to be done in time. He had spent most of the morning cleaning his Lordship's personal library on the second floor. He still deeply resented the extra tall heels Lord Madison would make him wear whenever he was dusting; claiming ostensibly that they were to help him reach some of the higher shelves but Peter knew well enough that the real reason was that his Lordship liked to ogle his legs as he waved about his feather duster. 

Unfortunately, during his cleaning of the library, Peter had become overly distracted by the lurid and frankly pornographic nature of some of the books on display. Besides the standard works by De Sade and Masoch, which Peter had expected to be there, there were open copies of the kama-sutra and various other antique sex manuals lying on desks and lecterns. Not to mention shelf upon shelf filled with titles such as 'A Scientific Enquiry into the Understanding of the Effect of Tongue Piercings on Cunnilingus and Fellatio', 'Attractive and Practical Knots of the Far East for the Purpose of Human Bondage', and 'Les Oubliettes: a Very Personal Journey through the Dungeons of Southern France Dating from the Previous Century.' 

The reading of these thoroughly indecent tomes had eaten into his time as he carefully fanned through the thick parchment pages, his cock leaking pre-cum constantly as he did so. When his mind finally cleared and he realised both how much time had passed Peter immediately noticed the puddle of sticky pre-cum dripping from his locked up cock that had pooled between his patent leather shoes. With only a feather duster to hand Peter knew that he had no choice but to bend down and lick it from the floor before he was caught - not that Lord Madison wasn't watching the entire procedure via closed circuit television and smiling broadly at his sissy's progression. 

But now Peter was having to rush through his cleaning of the central sitting room, the last of the orders proscribed to him by his Lordship at the start of the day. 

*** 

Lord Madison had informed him of his duties for the day whilst receiving his breakfast-in-bed that morning, lying naked in his four-poster as was his custom. Peter was required to stand by the bedside throughout, holding the tray containing his Lordship's first cup of earl grey tea, as his master idly flipped through the financial times. 

His Lordship's broad, hairy chest bathed in the clear early morning sunshine and, with Peter having been taught to keep his gaze naturally lowered when in the presence of those superior to him, it was on his Lordship's chest and cock was where his gaze naturally fell. 

When he finally finished reading the match report of the preceding day's test match, Lord Madison closed the paper and addressed his maid directly, "I shall be receiving a visitor this afternoon on a matter of a small business proposal and I shall require my library and the central sitting room to be in a presentable state, these are now your top priority Francine." 

"Yes your Lordship." Peter curtseyed. 

*** 

Having just finished clearing up from lunch Peter knew how little time he had left and he hastily moved on to dusting one of the portraits of Lord Madison's illustrious forebears - this particular painting was of the 14th Lord Madison, who had served as Home Secretary in the late 19th century and grown a reputation for employing a distinctly 'hands on' approach to his reform measures for penal correctitude. 

Peter was eager to ensure that each of the rooms he had been assigned were as clean and orderly as possible that morning as Lord Madison receiving a visitor typically meant that Peter was going to spend the next few hours in some manner of bondage in one of the cellars - which, though shorn of most of the torture devices from the manor's time as a royalist stronghold during the civil war, Lord Madison was doing his best to re-stock - and Peter had learnt from the bitterest of experience that the quality of his housework would be directly linked to the severity of his bondage: a choice between a single fuzzy pink handcuff locked to a water pipe; or gagged, blindfolded, and secured with metal restraints at every joint to a St Andrew's cross was a choice not to be taken lightly. 

Soon though the familiar clack of a well-heeled pair of size 13 Italian leather shoes echoed down the corridor and Peter rushed to the centre of the room and smoothed down his pinafore. His curtsey now came almost automatically to him, the smooth crossing of his legs and almost exaggeratedly feminine lifting of the hem now so practiced as to be akin to second nature to him. Though all of this was still not yet enough to stop his smile from turning into a scowl the moment his Lordship's back was turned. 

"Good afternoon Francine." 

"Good afternoon your Lordship," Peter curtseyed again. 

"I must say that it's extremely pleasing to me that you are finally beginning to show some signs of the civility that I am trying to inculcate in you. I know full well that you're still going to pout as soon as my back is turned," Peter averted his eyes guiltily and Lord Madison smiled at having caught him in the lie, "but where form goes function shall follow. I know your mind isn't yet moulded as I wish it to be but it is simply a matter of time from here on out. As such, I think that the time has come for you to put some of your training in receiving guests to more practical use. After all, it's no use training a maid if one is simply going to have to lock her in one's dungeo-, excuse me, in one's cellar when she's most needed? 

"As you should recall from this morning," His Lordship continued, "I am receiving a visitor to the manor on a matter of a potential business transaction and I need to impress upon him that the old ways of power, prestige, and nobility still continue. He's very much nouveau riche and that provincial sort tend to be even more enamoured with the trappings of aristocratic wealth than anybody from my old Islington set. So my domestic servant will need to be prominently on display." 

Peter's eyes lit up at this news; this was his chance to break free, this was the hope that he had been holding onto. Immediately his mind started racing on the best strategy to take in informing the visitor of the true nature of his relationship with Lord Madison and asking for the police to be informed as soon as possible. 

Lord Madison leaned against the mantelpiece and smiled with all the sympathy of a snake at his Maid, "Oh dear Francine, one of the myriad advantages for me of your having such a simple little sissy mind is the clarity with which I can comprehend your innermost thoughts - clearer in actuality than you yourself; I am very aware that your instinctive response will be to plan an escape or to fabricate some nonsensical tale of my keeping you here prisoner as a sex slave." 

Peter pouted again, "But you are keeping me here against my will, you are turning me into some twisted sissy sex puppet, and you are a perverted lunatic." He stomped one of his heels onto the floor and crossed his arms beneath his breasts, seemingly unaware of quite how feminine his tantrum appeared. 

"I do believe that we've covered this in more than plentiful detail Francine, I do wish you could collect your scattered sissy brain and remember something. Besides, how exactly were you planning on abandoning my service, eh Francine? How exactly were you planning on proving to my visitor that you were once a 'man'" His Lordship made quotations signs in the air with his fingers and stood upright again. "Are you in bondage right now? All I see is a silly little bimbo maid in a pretty dress with a very pretty collar. Are you a maid? You seem to know more than enough about serving a household by now. Are you a man? We both know you're too much a wimp to actually show him your little clitty, especially when it's so tightly locked away. 

Lord Madison stepped forward in front of Peter and hooked a finger into one of the loops on his collar, continuing, "Whereas, I am an upstanding member of fashionably high-society, I am a member of the House of Lords in good standing, and I am undoubtedly a man. Even if you did summon what little manhood there is left inside you and pleaded with him, who do you think he would believe? And I don't think you have it in you to admit what you've let yourself be turned into; your balls might be swollen little maid but that doesn't mean they're big. Do you understand Francine?" Lord Madison pulled on Peter's collar, dragging him closer such that he was towering with all his height over his maid. 

"Y-yes your L-l-lordship." Peter replied, his voice stuttering a little and his spirit cowed more quickly than he once would have thought to be possible. 

Lord Madison smiled menacingly, pleased with the easy effect his dominance could take on the young maid practically shaking in his heels in front of him. He allowed a moment of tense silence to build between them before speaking again. 

"Now that you've accepted your place Francine, I'm going to need you to move some more things into place. I want this room to be prepared for a meeting, starting with that table." 

Lord Madison rattled off a list of instructions to Peter, deliberately so fast that he was scarcely able to remember one by the time the next one was announced leaving Peter standing with his mouth slightly ajar and a delightfully vacant look on his face by the time his Lordship was finished. 

"Oh for goodness' sake Francine! The table. I asked you to start with the table." Lord Madison gestured with a dismissive wave of his hand at a lengthy oak table currently at the far end of the room, "Drag that up here so that it's parallel to the fireplace, and do be careful sissy, it's older than most houses I imagine you will have ever lived in." 

Silently fuming at his Lordship's continued pompous denigration of his background Peter sashayed his way to the table and, taking it in both hands, pulled at it with all his strength. The only effect, however, was for him to slide on the tips of his heels across the floor he'd spent so long polishing and land firmly on his panty clad arse. The table remained unmoved. 

Lord Madison's laughter echoed across the high ceiling of the ancient room and seemed to mock Peter from every direction. Pouting he shakily got back to his feet and tried again but to the exact same end: he was unable to move the heavy oak furniture an inch. Eventually Lord Madison ceased laughing for enough to make his way over to where Peter was sitting. 

His Lordship picked Peter up as easily as though he were a rag doll and popped him on the edge of the table, his legs spread. Lord Madison stepped forward, pinning Peter against the table so closely that his face was almost touching that of his young maid. Gripping the edges tightly in his hands Lord Madison lifted and dragged both the table and his maid without so much of a grunt. 

The noise of wood scraping across a polished floor was interrupted by the sounds of an expensive-looking, bright red, Italian sports car approaching up the driveway and pulling up next to Lord Madison's rather more reserved looking Bentley. 

"Ah, I take it that Mr Tyler has arrived." Lord Madison clapped his hands together with glee. 

Peter watched through the bay windows as the car-door opened, the suspension creaked, and a man he assumed to be Mr Tyler got out. He looked to be about 10 years older than Lord Madison, undoubtedly fatter and bald-headed apart from a little fine stubble covering his chin. 

Taking his maid by his hand Lord Madison led the way out of the front door with Peter tottering after him as well as his high-heeled feet could manage. 

In spite of the sunshine, Peter felt frozen the instant he left the dark confines of the manor house and found himself standing for the first time in front of a man other than his master whilst dressed as the perfect sissy maid. He had still been planning on screaming about the injustice of his situation but when his position was laid so clearly in front of him it was all he could do to blush demurely and lower his gaze. With each passing moment he could feel his opportunity for escape slipping past him. 

"Ah, Mr Tyler, so glad you decided to pay a visit to my little country abode," Lord Madison extended a hand and the two men shook. 

"Much obliged your Lordship. Thanks for inviting me out her, lovely part of the countryside. I'm sure we'll be able to get this matter straightened out in no time." His low, raspy voice was painted with a thick Yorkshire accent, and he stuck his thumbs in his wide leather belt as he spoke. 

"Oh I've little doubt in the matter, and whilst you're my guest allow me to extend to you all of the privileges of the estate, beginning with having your automobile freshened up." The bright red paint of the low-slung convertible was spattered with puddle-mud from the winding country lanes that lead to the manor house and from the imposing driveway itself. "Francine here would be only too happy to ensure that your vehicle is in a fit state to be seen again by the time you are ready to take your leave, won't you Francine?" 

Peter was all of a sudden put on the spot: he had gone from being a mute observer to being thrust into the spotlight and he felt the eyes of both men boring into him. Panicking he reacted in the way that he thought would cause the least trouble. 

"Yes, Lord Madison." He barely managed to supress a wince at the ease with which he was able to affect a feminine air to his voice. 

"Well only if you're sure she's nothing better to do your Lordship." 

"I insist. My young maid here has recently been taking . . . instructions in servicing automobiles and I want to ensure that she's making sufficient progress in the course I have laid out for her. Francine you'll find something an outfit more appropriately suited to the task arranged in your quarters. Hurry along now girl." 

After giving a final curtsey Peter sashayed off, remembering to wiggle his arse as he walked but still flustered at how readily Mr Tyler was willing to accept both that Lord Madison would keep a maid in this day and age, and at how readily he was willing to accept that Peter was that maid. 

Peter opened the door to his bedchamber and initially couldn't see any new outfit: the room was exactly as he had left it that morning other than a yellow dusting rag that had been placed on his pillow. It wasn't until he got closer that he realised the tiny scrap of yellow fabric that he had initially assumed was a duster was in fact a two part micro-bikini, the skimpiest that Peter had ever seen. Peter picked them up in a state of almost disbelief and held them against his body. 

A brief note was pinned to the thong in Lord Madison's distinctive cursive handwriting. 

'Good job your "cock" is so small or you'd never fit in these! 

Now hurry up and don't keep my guest waiting." 

Even whilst simultaneously blushing and fuming at the insult Peter felt the movement of the lace French-cut panties he was currently wearing gently rub against one of the holes in his belt and he blushed harder knowing that the slur about the size of his cock was true. 

Knowing by now that an order not to keep him waiting was an order not to be trifled with, Peter hurriedly unzipped his dress and allowed the layers of lace to fall in a crumpled pile around his ankles. He carefully rolled down his sheer stockings - a ladder would mean an automatic caning that evening - and placed them on his bed where they were shortly followed by his panties and bra. 

Finally he unlaced the stiff, boned corset that his Lordship was now really only making him wear for the aesthetic and control value; his body was already becoming moulded closer and closer to that of the perfect hourglass figure. And indeed when Peter stood for a moment in front of his full length mirror naked - or as naked as he could be with his immovable chastity belt and collar - the sight was almost unbelievable. 

This though only heightened his sense of shame as he teetered out of the front door on his stiletto heels, his huge breasts threatening to break free from the flimsy little bit of cloth holding them in place. 

"Oh my-" Peter felt Mr Tyler's eyes running up and down his body and with so much on display he felt flustered about where he could place his hands that would leave him any small semblance of dignity. 

"You look splendid Francine, but you're not just here for your looks girl, get on with it." 

Peter curtseyed again for his Master, miming lifting the non-existent hem of where his skirt would have fallen. 

"Now Mr Tyler, why don't you take a seat inside your car for a better view of the proceedings whilst I go back inside to make a few final arrangements for later on? Let Francine work out here in the sun, he added under his breath, but in a deliberate stage whisper such that Peter could not help but overhear, "And I can't help but think that some tan lines on that slender little body would be most becoming." To which Mr Tyler heartily laughed and agreed. 

The afternoon sun was indeed fiercely burning onto Peter's bare skin and he was thankful for the splashing of the hose and the fine spray of suds that soaked him as he began working on the car. 

As he bent over at the waist - as he had been taught to do - to polish the gilded badge on the bonnet of the Lamborghini, and he felt the g-string of the bikini ride between his tight hairless arse-cheeks Peter felt a pang of humiliation flush across his face stronger than he had felt for some time as he began to accept that he had gone from a young socially-conscious protestor to a servile submissive cleaning the expensive status-symbol cars of a capitalist and an aristocrat. 

Peter leant over the side of the car to clean the centre of the windscreen, only realising too late that he was inadvertently pressing his enormous breasts against the flat glass. The thin fabric that was barely covering his nipples was soaked through and they were clearly poking through. What was worse though was when he cleared the last of the bubbles away and saw the lecherous grin on the face of Mr Tyler and pictured the designs clearly passing through his head. 

It was only as he applied the final layer of wax that he noticed that Mr Tyler's hands had slipped from their position on the steering wheel down towards his lap some time ago. 

For the first time in his visit he was grateful for Lord Madison's return. Keeping one hand on Peter's plump arse cheek and one eye in the reflection of his new breasts in the highly polished metal, Lord Madison leant in to speak to Mr Tyler, "If you'd be so good as to join me in the central sitting room I believe we're ready to begin proceedings." Then, turning back to Peter he spoke in another stage whisper, this time for the benefit of Mr Tyler, "Go and get changed Francine, and this time do try to wear something more fitting for the situation rather than flouncing about like a common tart in front of my guest." 




To the Manor Bound Ch. 04



Stunned into silence Peter returned back up the spiralling staircase to his room, happy for the moment to be allowed out of the dripping wet bikini; anything would be more modest. Though the outfit he found waiting for him on the bed - again with a little note from Lord Madison, this time informing him that he was due to begin his secretarial training - would hardly be called modest in even the most debauched societies - using a modest amount of fabric perhaps but hardly creating a modest appearance. 

Again, Peter examined himself in the mirror before leaving the room; biting his bottom lip and trying to reassure himself by telling himself that it would have made a perfectly good ladies business suit were the shirt not so tight that it was effectively impossible to do up the last two buttons and the skirt so short that his arse cheeks were near continually falling out. 

As he re-opened the door to the central sitting room Peter found Lord Madison and Mr Tyler already seated in the same overstuffed leather chairs he had sat in that first evening of his sentence at Hambleton Manor. 

"Ah Francine, so good of you to join us. Fetch us two large brandies, the Martell I think." 

Outside the large bay windows the sun was just beginning to sink as Peter poured out two large tumblers full and then stood by patiently holding them on the tray, waiting for the two older men to take their drink, all the while his skirt riding further up. 

Once the tray was emptied his Lordship motioned dismissively with his hand away from them and towards the table that he had arranged earlier, now completely set up for secretarial work with an old-fashioned ribbon typewriter and a swivelling office chair. 

"Do try and keep up girl, and remember that I'm going to dock your pay for every typo that I find your bubble brain has made." Lord Madison spoke over his glass as Peter positioned himself ready to begin keeping minutes and then turned back to Mr Tyler, "It's the only way that you can break in a new girl . . . to a secretarial position at least." 

Mr Tyler coughed, eager to begin, "If we could get down to business your Lordship, there's been talk that the commons are going to introduce new legislation 

Peter started typing, moving his fingers uncertainly over the stiff keys of the typewriter. More used to the easy tap of a laptop keyboard it took him some time and patience before he was able to catch up with the conversation and when he did he was forced to almost immediately stop and look down at the seat of his chair; the quicker that he typed the more obvious it became that the steadily building buzz of a vibrator was throbbing through the chair and against his buttplug. From the corner of his eye Peter saw Lord Madison flash him a dirty grin and he realised that it was intended as a twisted incentive to keep up with their conversation. 

Mr Tyler leant forward in his chair to speak, "To be perfectly frank with you, your Lordship, I'm starting to worry about this newly proposed bill: it's vague enough to get some cross-party support and you know that any kind of censorship will cripple my trade. 

Lord Madison dismissed his concerns away with a wave of his hand, "My dear old boy you need not worry about it for a moment longer. The very second you've taken your seat in the lords the matter can be shuffled off to a secondary committee who can bury it so deep in the files of Whitehall that it won't see light again, let alone fresh ink." 

Mr Tyler furrowed his brow a little, "I don't doubt that it will, but how can you be sure that you'll be able to get me a seat?" 

"I've been about the place all my life and I've got dirt on half of them and know how to cater to the sexual peccadillos of the remaining half. I just need you to back up your side of the agreement." 

"Well now you know I'm always happy to extend my little print, video and internet empire, but to be honest with you I just don't rightly know whether there's a market for it." 

Lord Madison raised an eyebrow, "Has pornography ever not sold?" 

"Hah!" Mr Tyler's jowels wobbled a little under his chin as he laughed, "Not in my forty odd years of experience." 

Peter's hands froze for a second as he finally realised where he recognised Mr Tyler from: he was one of the largest pornographers in the country; indeed Peter had once attended a protest outside of his headquarters regarding the exploitation of his models. He was only brought back to his secretarial duties when the word tracker on the keyboard registered the pause, cut the vibrations, and sent a small, but significant, electric shock to his cage. 

Lord Madison reclined in his chair once more and gestured with his hand over an antique map of the traditional counties of England, "I trust that you've seen sufficient proof of my influence over the past few days and your visit this afternoon; as far as I am concerned the only remaining question remaining is which county seat you would most prefer to be raised to." 

As the attention of the two men was drawn to a wall-map of the ancient counties of England- and a few counties were dismissed out of hand due to their respective peers being close associates of Lord Madison - Peter slipped a new sheet of paper into the typewriter and continued his typing as seamlessly as he could manage: 

"PLEASE HELP ME! I AM BEING KEPT HERE AGAINST MY WILL! LORD MADISON IS POWER-MAD! HE HAS TURNED ME INTO HIS SISSY MAID BY FORCE AND IS KEEPING ME HERE BY BLACKMAIL! I AM BEGGING YOU, PLEASE CALL THE POLICE!" 

With their backs turned to him momentarily Peter quickly folded the paper and hid it neatly between his breasts, giving a little prayer that it wouldn't be the straw that broke the camel's back and caused another button to fly from his straining shirt. 

"Well now, I've always taken a bit of a shine to Southmoltonshire, if you're sure that the seat would come with enough prestige to carry the vote." 

"My dear old thing, all such noble ancient seats of England convey enough authority to cover any of your needs . . . but I can clearly see that you need further convincing. Francine, a moment outside." 

Tottering back onto his heels Peter followed Lord Madison out of the door, feeling both the smooth silk of his panties and the lecherous eyes of Mr Tyler rubbing against his arse as he walked away. Out in the corridor Lord Madison leant close to him, pinning him to the wall. 

"Clearly my guest requires a little further education - hardly surprising as I believe he attended a state school - in the finer points of aristocratic privilege. Privilege which I believe you are now in a suitably trained position to demonstrate." 

By now, after five long hard weeks of training and gradually learning the mind of his Master, Peter instinctively knew what Lord Madison was suggesting. "But he- he mi-" 

"Yes, yes, he might notice that your little clitty is a fraction bigger that most girls, but you have other 'assets' you can make fine use of in a situation like this." At that Lord Madison rested his hands over Peter's breasts and pushed him back against the wall, fondling them whilst looking into his eyes as he spoke slowly, "Do not let me down Francine." 

Before Peter had a chance to object Lord Madison had spun him on his toes and pushed him back through the door to the sitting room. Suddenly presented with the rotund figure of Mr Tyler leaning against the mantelpiece Peter stuttered to a stop and unconsciously smoothed out where his dress-shirt had been ruffled. 

"C-can I refresh y-your glass Sir?" Peter found himself deferring to the older man, mostly still out of sheer nerves at the risk of being discovered, and letting his eyes settle downcast as he asked. 

"Much obliged my dear, another splash of that brandy." Mr Tyler held his glass close to his chest, thus forcing the young maid to draw up face-to-face with him and appreciate how diminutive his stature was in comparison to the wealthy industrialist. 

After filling the glass back up with the same 1962 vintage that he had been served on his first night in the manor house - though, naturally, minus the chloral hydrate - Peter turned and saw the faint silhouette of Lord Madison waiting in the doorway, the remote control to his electric shock-collar swinging like a pendulum from one of his fingers: it was now or never for Peter. 

Curtseying as he presented the refilled glass Peter simply allowed his knees to continue to fall until he was kneeling, prone, in front of Mr Tyler. Looking on with as much bemusement as arousal, Mr Tyler sipped on his brandy as he watched Peter begin to slowly unbutton his shirt and the cartoonishly huge breasts bursting free and rubbing against his leg. 

"H-his Lordship h-has asked me to extend to you all the privileges of the estate during your time here." Peter's face burnt with humiliation as he leant forward to unbutton the trousers of his guest. 

But he was stopped in his tracks by Mr Tyler laying a hand on the back of his head and tilting it upwards to look at him. "Not so fast young lady." 

"B-b, I-, that is Lo-" 

"Yes, yes, I know: your master has ordered this, but you see I work in a business where I'm constantly surrounded by beautiful women who all think that they can make it big just by sucking my cock, some of them just as pretty as you my dear. So you're going to have to do something pretty special if you want this, and I want to see just how eager you are to fulfil your Master's orders." He took another long slow sip from the tumbler before continuing, "Beg," He smiled, "Beg for it." 

Biting his bottom lip Peter allowed his training to kick in as he swallowed yet another lump of his pride and tried not to let on how disgusted with himself he was. "Please? Please can I service your cock Sir?" 

"What was that? I could barely hear you, I'm sure you can manage better than that lass." 

"Please Sir, please let me worship your cock. I'm begging you, pleading you, let me prove how much I want to serve you by submitting myself to your cock." The words came from between Peter's lips in a flurry and he barely knew where they had come from. 

Mr Tyler simply chuckled and slowly undid his flies, "Well alright then young lady, since you did ask so nicely I'm only too happy to oblige." 

His already semi-hard cock flopped out from his trousers and, whilst neither as thick or as long as Lord Madison's, it was certainly bigger than Peter remembered his own cock being, and as this thought came to him he felt his tightly constrained penis involuntarily try to harden in its chastity cage. 

Peter shuffled forward on his knees as he lifted his breasts up to engulf the bobbing, throbbing cock of Mr Tyler. As he started slowly stroking the cock he found that he was faced with an impossible choice between watching the thick, bulbous head bouncing nearer and nearer to his face or making eye-contact with the leering, sweaty Mr Tyler. 

The hypnotic training he had undertaken kicked in with the efficiency of clockwork though, even without Peter realising it, and he made sure to make as much eye contact as he could stomach. What he found harder to stomach though were the lewd phrases he found himself spouting, though he managed to convince himself for the moment that he was simply trying to speed up the process. 

He found himself moaning, "I can't wait for your cum in my mouth," and, "You're the biggest I've ever had!" This last moan was certainly untrue as Peter could still see Lord Madison standing in the doorway, his cock straining against his trousers. 

Mr Tyler grunted and stuck a thick, sweaty finger into Peter's gaping mouth for him to suck on as he thrusted ever faster between Peter's breasts. Suddenly more embarrassed by this wantonly sluttish act Peter broke eye contact and looked down just in time to get a face full of cum as Mr Tyler shot load after load over his cheeks and tits and into his open mouth. 

With both of the older men distracted Peter took the opportunity to slip the folded note into Mr Tyler's pocket. He had only just had enough time to remove his hand before Mr Tyler casually pushed him away onto his back on the floor and, taking out his wallet, casually peeled off a couple of twenty pound notes and dropped them down onto Peter. 

It was only then, with money sticking onto his cum-drenched tits that Peter suddenly started to wonder about the exact nature of the new publications Lord Madison was talking about, and who would be starring in them . . . 

He was only woken from this reverie by the sound outside the door of the two men shaking hands on their shady backroom contract of which he had been used as a mere sex-toy prop. 

Nevertheless, after lapping up the cum from his body at the direction of His Lordship, Peter found that he was able to go through the rest of the evening with an additional amount of spring and verve in his step, excited at the thought that he would soon be able to get out even as Mr Tyler pulled off and left him alone with Lord Madison once more. He found himself acting like the perfect maid that Lord Madison was intending to turn him into - without a single worry in his mind at how naturally it was now all coming to him. 

He continued dusting the library with limper wrists than ever before, he perfected the beef wellington that Lord Madison had ordered for his dinner, and he curtseyed demurely as his Lordship ordered him to his bedchambers for the night - expecting the ring of sirens at any moment. 

Shutting the bedroom door behind him Peter closed his eyes and exhaled, allowing himself a fleeting moment of happy security; fleeting because when he opened his eyes he saw a third note pinned to his pillow in the same position as the ones pinned to the outfits he'd worn earlier. With a growing sense of dread and disbelief Peter picked up the note and immediately recognised his own handwriting and his own plaintive cries for help. 

"Did you really think it would be so easy sissy?" Peter span on the toes of his stilettos, almost losing his balance in the process, to see his Lordship standing in the doorway, his arms cross and a familiar cane hanging from his fingertips. "Did you really think that I wouldn't notice your pathetic attempts to slip our visitor a note?" 

Peter collapsed onto the edge of the bed, his knees shaking and his eyes falling down to Lord Madison's shoes. 

"I think that one stroke per word should be sufficient punishment to teach you never to try a scheme like this again, sufficient for tonight at least. Which to my count makes it a nice round forty of the best across your bare little backside. Lie down on your front." 

Peter tried shaking his head, tried putting up an objection; the familiar sight of the dangling cane and his Lordship's intimidating stature now all it took to make him cower. 

"I've had enough playing for today Francine so I'm not even going to tell you a second time." And with that Lord Madison roughly grabbed one of Peter's ankles and secured it tightly to a bedpost, ignoring the pleas and flailing as he worked quickly and efficiently moving from one limb to the next. When Peter was finally completely secured spread-eagled and face down on the bed the micro-skirt had ridden up fully around his waist leaving only the pathetic little scrap of a g-string against his arse. Taking the silky material in one hand, his Lordship pulled hard giving Peter a humiliating wedgie until the fabric ripped away from his body. 

After pausing to work the pre-cum stained panties into his servant's mouth Lord Madison raised the cane above his shoulder. 

Schwip! 

His Lordship was indeed done playing games with Peter as he forewent his standard routine of mocking and belittling his maid as he punished. 

Schwip! 

Instead he worked the thin cane with an almost animalistic vigour against Peter's bare skin, working up a sweat that broke through his dress shirt. 

Schwip! 

Peter thrashed and pulled at his bonds but all to no use as he couldn't even make the sturdy oak-frame bend, let alone free himself. 

Schwip! 

Eventually he buried his panty-stuffed mouth into his pillow and tried to count away the remaining strokes. 

Schwip! 

The moment the fortieth stroke fell his Lordship collapsed down on top of his young maid, biting down on his neck and ear as he groped at his raw arse-cheeks and growled in his ear, "Perhaps I ought to include you as part of the deal with Mr Tyler, see how you enjoy being bought and sold like a common whore." 

He stood back up and straightened his tie once more as he listened to the panting gasps of his sissy, "I will say this much though, congratulations on reaching a level of femininity that you were able to successfully convince a complete stranger that you are a woman. Now all you need to do is learn to convince yourself and accept your new position. Think about how much more easily, and how much more enjoyable today would have been: you would simply have engaged in a little light housework, followed by some intellectual stimulation to keep your mind active, and then finished by having sex with one of the country's most eligible bachelors, if you would only convince yourself." His Lordship bent over and placed the cane sideways gently between Peter's lips. "I believe I shall leave you to consider that matter privately until the morning. Sleep well Francine." 

And with that Lord Madison took his exit, not even bothering to close the door behind him. So that was how Peter spent the night: tied firmly to each corner of his bed with his legs wantonly splayed, the ripped fragments of his pre-cum stained panties resting under his nose, a tortuous cane gripped tightly between his teeth, and with his brightly-red burning arse openly on display.