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---------------------------------- GRETCH01 -----------------------------------

                              On Becoming Gretchen

                                By Amelia Allbyte


                                   Chapter One


If I hadn't accepted a 'cheap' ride my story would be  quite  different.    I'd
probably be settled down in some nine-to-five job.   Maybe even have a wife and
kids in a little vine-covered cottage.

But  I  did  and  my  path has changed.   As a result,  I'm not allowed to even
consider going back to that sort of  existence.   And you know,  I'm not sure I
want to - now.  Anyway, after you read my story, you be the judge.

My name is,  or used to be,  James Carrion.   At the time,  I  was  kind  of  a
vagrant.  Itinerant worker sounds better, and I guess would be more descriptive
and  apt.   I would work at a job maybe six months or so and then set out for a
new place and a new job.   At any rate,  my story begins as I was between jobs,
so to speak.   In fact it had been  quite  a  while since my last job and I was
getting down to my last couple of bucks when I heard that there  were  jobs  of
some kind opening up in Wells City.

Since there weren't any immediate job prospects in this town,  I decided to try
my luck there.   When I paid off my room rent,  I had barely enough for the bus
ticket.    I  was  going  to  pay for that lousy roach-infested room,  but as I
started to leave I was met by my landlord,  all six feet and two hundred pounds
of him.   So naturally I was overjoyed to pay my past-due bill.   I sure didn't
want my credit rating damaged, nor my nose bloodied and my eyes blackened.

I trudged to the bus station.   It was a cold, miserable day in late fall.  Not
freezing,  exactly,  but one of those  chill  days when the dampness goes right
into your bones.  Arriving at the bus station cold, wet, and hungry, I found to
my dismay that the next bus for Wells City didn't leave for another six  hours.
Nothing for me to do but wait, and starve.

I  purchased  my  ticket and went over to sit in the dingy crowded waiting room
when this really good-looking dame came up to me.  "I just saw you buy a ticket
to Wells City.   Are you just going to sit here and wait until the bus leaves?"
she asked me.

"Yes, ma'am.   I got no place to go and no money left.   About all I can afford
to do is to just sit here until the bus leaves."

"Well,  I'm going to Wells City and I hate driving alone.   I'll tell you what.
If you will cash in your ticket, I'll take you there, half price.   We'll leave
right now so you won't have to sit around waiting."

To me  that  sounded  like  a  really  good  deal.    I'd  get  to  ride with a
good-looking girl whose eyes promised real company rather than wait around  and
then have to ride in a crowded bus.  Besides, I'd

have enough money to get something to eat and maybe rent a room for a day or so
when I got there.  Without a moment's hesitation I agreed.

It only took a few minutes to cash in my ticket and pile into her big fancy car
and  be  on  our way.   You might have guessed by now that this whole thing was
just a come-on.   At the time I was tired and disgusted and my only thought was
to get out of there,  so I never even thought of a come-on.   We got going, her
driving at a pretty good rate of speed.

I wasn't paying much attention to where  we  were going until I noticed that we
had turned off the main road and were traveling down a back country  road.    I
turned  to  the  girl  to  ask where the hell we were going and looked down the
barrel of a big,  and I mean  big,  pistol.   "Just sit quietly.   We're almost
there," she ordered.

I soon found out where 'there' was.   The road dead-ended.   She ordered me  to
give her the rest of my money,  which I reluctantly did.   I couldn't even hold
back a few bucks since she knew exactly how much money I had.  She then ordered
me  to get out of the car,  which I did with a bit of alacrity.   The farther I
got away from that gun,  the better I felt.   That gal was handling it like she
was born with it in her hand and she did this every day.  Maybe she did.

She didn't waste a minute.   She turned around and drove off with my money,  my
pack, and everything else I had except for the clothes on my back.

There was nothing else for  me  to  do  except  to  trudge back toward the main
highway.   I guessed I was a good ten miles up this deserted little side  road.
To top it off, it had begun to drizzle and it was getting dark.

I guess I walked a couple of hours in that drizzly rain, when I finally came to
a large house, kind of set back from the road.  It was the first and only house
I  saw  the whole time I was walking.   It sat out there by itself.   There was
nothing else anywhere near, not even a barn.

I approached it, hailed it, pounded on the door, and even circled it.   I tried
looking in the  barred  and  shaded  windows  but  could  see  no sign of life.
Finally convinced that no one was about,  and being cold,  wet,  and hungry,  I
tried the door.

Lo and behold!  The windows were barred and the door looked as solid as a rock,
but it was unlocked.   The interior  was  as  elaborate  as  the  exterior  was
imposing.    I wandered through the living room and den,  sloshing water on the
deep napped rug with every step.   I made my way through the house,  meeting no
one,  and finally found the  kitchen.    Looking about,  I found a well-stocked
refrigerator.

I was hungry,  but I was also wet by now, quite chilled.   I decided to try and
find some dry clothes, or at least a blanket that I could cover up in while the
rags I was wearing dried.  I then started wandering through the darkened house.
I finally found a bedroom, but the only clothes I found were quite feminine.

I gave up and thought I'd try another room, maybe I'd have some better luck and
find some male clothes, when suddenly the lights came on!

I turned,  and the first thing that caught my eye was the barrel of  a  cannon.
For the second time in one day I was looking at the wrong end of a pistol.

As  ny  eyes strayed from the mouth of the pistol,  I saw that it was held by a
girl.   Woman, really, as she was tall.   Taller than me, even allowing for her
high heels.   She had fair skin,   accented  by  her long black hair.   She was
wearing a white gauzy see-through blouse that embellished her full breasts  and
wore black form- fitting slacks that emphasized her long tapered legs.

She had an air of quiet confidence and held the pistol like she knew how to use
it.   What was worse, she looked like she was rather eager to try it out on me.


"Lady," I said.   "You can put that gun away.  I'm not trying to steal anything
except maybe a little food,  the loan of some dry clothes,  and a chance to get
it out of the rain and cold.   I banged on the door and hollered all around the
place but no one answered.  I just figured that no one was home, so I came in."
I started to lower my hands.

"Keep them up!" she commanded, waving the pistol a bit.  She then walked around
me,   kind  of looking me over from every angle,  giving little exclamations of
approval or disapproval during her inspection.

After circling me  a  couple  of  times,   she  got  a  pair  of handcuffs from
somewhere.  Quickly and efficiently, she pinioned my wrists behind me.

Marching me back into the den, she stopped me on a big furry rug lying in front
of the fireplace.  She made me lay down on my stomach and produced another pair
of manacles which  she  put  on  my  ankles.    Then,   to  add  insult  to  my
helplessness, she linked my wrists and ankles together.

"Your clothes are soaking," she said rather unnecessarily as if she hadn't seen
me dripping water the whole time.  "We'll have to do something about that."

She  left  and returned a few moments later with some scissors and calmly began
cutting my clothes off me.   I  mean  everything.   She stripped me down to the
buff so that I was lying there on that rug, bare-assed naked.

She kind of giggled while I lay face down on the rug and tried to pull my  feet
up to hide the crack of my ass.   However, she relented a bit and covered me up
with  another  skin.    I didn't know whether the rugs were fake or real animal
skin, but they sure were soft, warm, and dry.

"Hungry?" she finally asked.

"Starving," I replied.   "I haven't eaten since this morning.   I met this girl
who offered me a ride to Wells City.   We hadn't gone but a little way when she
took me down this lonely road,  pulled gun  on me,  and dumped me.   Now I find
this place,  and the first thing I know you pull a gun on me,  hog-tie me,  and
strip me."

Then I added quite angrily,  "You're  damn  right  I'm  hungry,   and  mad  and
disgusted too.  To top it off, you have me chained up this way for no reason at
all."

"I  only  asked if you were hungry," the woman replied.   "I'm not in the least
interested in your problems or whether you are disgusted or not.   I'll get you
something to eat."

She appeared shortly with a plate of what appeared to be pieces of meat, gravy,
and some kind of vegetables in it, and a bowl of milk.

She sat the dishes down in front of  my  face.   "You'll have to eat it like my
little doggy, but don't worry; when you're through, I'll wash off your face."

I looked at the food,  rather warily.   It looked suspiciously like  dog  food.
She saw my look and laughed.   "No,  it's not dog food - this time.   But if we
don't come to some sort of an understanding, it may very well be, next time."

I was hungry, and despite the humiliation, began eating.  The meat was rich and
tender.   The vegetables were delicious.   But have you ever tried eating while
lying  on  your stomach with your hands tied behind you?   It's not easy.   You
have to estimate where the food is.   By the time you get your face down to it,
you can't see it.   Then you have to  get your nose out of the way.   No matter
how hard you try,  you are still going to get your nose  and  chin  messed  up.
Also, trying to get liquid out of a bowl is no snap.   I guess that if a person
practices  long enough,  he would get adept at lapping it up like a dog or cat.
In my case, though, I had to kind of purse my lips and suck it up.

I finally finished it all, even to the point of licking the plates clean.   The
woman removed the plates and  cleaned  up  my  face.   After putting the dishes
away, she sat on the sofa, looking down at me.

"I'm needing a maid to serve a group of girl friends I am having here in a  day
or  so.    If  you  will  act  the part,  I won't turn you in to the police for
breaking and entering and possibly trying to attack me."

"I never tried to attack you and  I wasn't breaking and entering.   I just came
in to get out of the rain."

"On the contrary,  I found you in this  house  sneaking  around,   looking  for
something to steal.  Probably if you had found me unarmed, you would have tried
to rape me."

"Why, you know that isn't true!"

"Who do you think will believe you,  after I tell them my story of how I caught
you sneaking up behind me, trying to attack me?"

I was beat and I knew it.   There wasn't a soul who would believe my story.   I
could hardly believe that it had happened the way it did, and I was there.

So, I asked, "Maid?   What's with the maid bit?  A maid's a female, I'm not, so
that leaves me out.  I may be a lot of things, but I'm no girl."

"If you agree,  when I'm through,  no one will know the difference.   I can put
some makeup on you, dress you up, and you'll look quite attractive."

"Hell, no! I'm not going to agree with such a silly thing."

"OK., I'll just call the cops and tell them I caught you in my bedroom."

"Why,   I'll  just  tell  them  what really happened," I responded.   "I'm sure
they'll realize that it was  just  a  mistake," I replied desperately,  knowing
that no one would believe it.  What was worse, she knew it too.


                           Chapter Two


"That's your side of it.   But I'm not so sure that they'll believe your  story
after I tell them my story, especially with this sort of thing going on."

She dropped a newspaper in front of me.  Craning my neck, I managed to read the
headlines and the first few lines of the lead story.

"RAPIST  STRIKES  AGAIN,"  it read.   "For the third time this month,  a rapist
attacked a woman in an isolated home.   The police are baffled,  but believe it
to be the work of  an  itinerant  worker  who  has holed up somewhere since the
rapes were always in conjunction with a robbery."

It went on in the same general tone.  There was even a description given by one
of the victims.  Uncomfortably, I noted that it fit me quite accurately.

"Now," said the woman, "what do you think they'll do when I turn you in?"

I knew what they'd do and the outcome wasn't very pretty to contemplate.  I may
eventually convince them that I wasn't guilty,  maybe even produce an alibi (my
old landlord?), but during the time they spent checking it out, I'd be in for a
rough time, and it would probably be for a long time.

"If I agree to do this, you won't turn me in?"

"That's right. You do as I ask and no cops."

"OK., you got a deal," I gave in.

"I'm glad to see you're reasonable.   I can just imagine how the  police  would
question  you,"  she responded.   Then she added,  "Now that we have come to an
understanding,  the first thing that we're going to have to do is to get rid of
that ugly hair on your body,  arms,  and legs.   Since it's rather late and you
need a bath anyway,  we'll just go  ahead and do it tonight.   We'll start your
other lessons in the morning."

"Remove my body hair?  Other lessons tomorrow?  What the hell is this?  I don't
need all that junk just to serve a few plates."

"You just agreed to do as I asked and already you're trying to get out  of  it.
You will either do it my way, or I'll call the cops.  Now which do you want?"

"Alright, you win.  I guess I can take anything for a day or so."

Once  I agreed,  she yanked the skin off me and released the leg irons.   "OK.,
young man,  let's get  going."  By  now  I  was  warm  and  dry and despite the
humiliating method, well fed.

I struggled to my feet.   "I agreed to your terms.   You can take these  things
off my wrists now."

"You agreed verbally.  I don't know what's going on in your mind.  What you are
going  to  be  doing can be done just as well with those things still attached.
Now, move on."

I headed back to the bedroom  where  the  bath was located,  my female guardian
following, occasionally prodding me.  I noticed that she was no longer carrying
the gun.

We reached the bathroom and she began applying a lotion to my body.    Starting
at  my forehead and working her way down to my toes,  she covered every inch of
me.

It was kind of titillating,   especially  when  she  got  to my groin where she
liberally applied the lotion to my cock and balls.   I began responding to  the
handling.  In other words, I was beginning to get a hardon.

The  woman  stopped,  reached for long-handled bath brush,  and slapped down my
erect member.  It hurt!  My eyes watered and all thoughts of arousal were gone.
I went completely limp.

She acted as if nothing unusual had happened, as though she whacked erect cocks
every day.   She went on with her task.  In a few more minutes I was completely
covered with the gooey stuff.

"Just stand there awhile and let that  lotion  do its work.   I'll be back when
it's time to remove it." She went out,  closing the door behind her, leaving me
standing there.

With no clothes and my wrists locked  behind  me,   I  wasn't  going  anywhere.
Besides,  I heard the lock click after she left.   Apparently the door could be
locked from the outside.

With  nothing  else  to do,  I stood there - and stood there.   Meanwhile,  the
lotion was beginning to work and  my  skin  was beginning to feel itchy.   So I
stood and waited some more.

Finally,  when I felt I couldn't stand any longer and my body felt like one big
rash,  the lock clicked and the woman entered.    She  looked  me  over  rather
critically,  ran a fingernail lightly down my leg,  examined it,  and nodded in
satisfaction to herself.  She started the shower, motioned for me to enter, and
I did.

When I got fully wet, she started rubbing me down with the bath brush.   It was
scratchy and uncomfortable.   What was worse, I could see all of my hair coming
off with the brush.  Now, I didn't think I was exceptionally hairy, but I could
see  gobs of hair coming off and going down the drain.   Even my pubic hair was
going and the woman seemed to  take  a  perverse  delight in giving that area a
good scrubbing.

Satisfied that the hair was all removed,  she motioned me out of the shower and
began rubbing me down with a big fluffy towel,  and then began applying a  soft
soothing lotion to my now hairless body.

The  feeling  was  amazing.   My denuded skin seemed so much more sensitive and
delicate.   I was suddenly aware of  every  waft  of air,  of minute changes in
temperature as she led me from the bath into the bedroom.

"You look much more presentable now," she said after examining me to make  sure
I was completely hairless.

"Oh,   one  other thing.   I want you to know that the lotion has a hair growth
inhibitor in it.   Your face should stay smooth for two or three days; the rest
of your body for at least a week."

"You need a name.   You're  fairly  light complexioned and blonde.   'Gretchen'
seems rather appropriate.   Hello, Gretchen.  You can call me Miss Irene.  Just
always remember the respectful Miss."

"My name is --"

She slapped my face, hard.   Then she put her hand over my mouth.  "Gretchen, I
don't give a damn about what it used to be or even what you did.  As far as you
and I are concerned, you have just been born.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss Irene."

"It's kind of late," she said.   I looked at the clock.    It  was  well  after
eleven and I realized that I was quite worn out.

"Tomorrow we'll start training you so that you may be a passable maid.  You may
as  well start getting used to feminine clothing tonight.   I'll get you a pair
of panties and a bra.    We'll  pad  it  out,   and  of  course you will need a
nightgown."

She came over and removed the handcuffs.   "I guess it's all  right  to  remove
these  now.   Besides,  it would be difficult to dress you while you're wearing
them."

She started over toward the bureau to get the clothes.  I figured it was now or
never.  I had been forced to agree to her terms under duress, which as far as I
was concerned carried no validity.   I'd  just  beat the hell out of her,  find
some clothes and get the hell out of there.   I had no desire to be  her  maid,
and  as  far  as  I  knew,  she would still turn me in at the first opportunity
anyway.

Without another moment's hesitation  I  jumped  her  with the full intention of
overpowering her and leaving her manacled with her own handcuffs.

Now, the idea may have been pretty good, but the execution left something to be
desired.  As I started to jump she turned and grabbed me by the writs and using
my own momentum, slammed me to the floor.

I staggered to my feet and before I knew what had happened,  she grabbed me  by
my  other wrist and slammed me against the wall.   Then she lowered my head and
butted me right in the gut.   I  doubled  over and she rabbit-punched me on the
back of my neck and my little revolt was quelled.  I was licked.

"I can let you up and we can go at it again just to prove it was no  accident,"
she  said in a conversational tone,  stepping back to give me an opportunity to
rise.

I clambered to my feet, still a bit shaky.   "Uh, no, thanks." I didn't need or
want any more proof.   She was quicker,  more agile,  and better trained than I
was.   At the moment,  it would not  have surprised me to discover that she was
stronger than I. The one grab that I did make at her felt like I was grabbing a
steel cable.  "So where's the damn clothes," I muttered.

As I was getting up, she was getting the clothes and tossing them onto the bed.
I had no trouble pulling the sleek lace panties up into place about  my  waist,
at  least  as  far  as  slipping them on.   But the sensation was quite another
matter.  That smooth nylon about my hips and the lace-trimmed elastic around my
waist and legs gave me an  exotic  high you wouldn't believe.   The feeling was
intensified because of the increased skin sensitivity due to the hair  removal.
I could feel an erection coming on - fast.

Miss  Irene  saw the sudden bulging at my crotch and wasn't amused.   "You will
get aroused and have an erection only when I permit it.  Cease immediately."

Well, that was like telling the tide to quit coming in.  There wasn't a thing I
could do about it.

My captor could do something,  and  did.    She went back into the bathroom and
returned with the long-handled bath brush.  She positioned herself and held the
bath brush like a baseball bat,  and - whack!   That  was  all  I  needed.    I
subsided immediately.

"You  may  not believe it now,  but that thing will become quite obedient," she
said nonchalantly,  returning the brush to its proper place.   I didn't believe
her.   After all,  that thing had a mind of its own and would occasionally pick
some of the most embarrassing times to decide to get hard.  Besides, wasn't she
going to release me in a  few  days,   after  I  acted as a maid for her little
party?  Or was she?

After we went through the little fracas she  then  brought  over  the  bra  and
helped  me  put it on,  and then inserted the pads.   Here again,  although the
sensation wasn't quite as erotic as my panties, it sure wasn't unpleasant.  The
tightness of the elastic  about  my  chest,   the  pull  of  the straps over my
shoulders and the weight of the inserts seemed very pleasant, and in an odd way
rather natural.

"You will look much better with adhered pads,  or even better,  implants  until
you  grow  your  own,   but for now these will have to do," she commented after
viewing the completed task.

"That sounds like you want this to be permanent.   I thought you said you would
let me go if I acted as your maid."

"I said I would not turn you  over  to the police," she retorted.   "How long I
keep you depends on how you cooperate."

As she was saying this,  she was handing me a peach-colored waltz- length nylon
nightgown with a gauzy overlay of lace.   It had short puffy  sleeves,   ending
just  below  the shoulders.   The neck was modestly scooped and ornamented with
frilly lace, the same as the cuffs and hem.

Once again, the sensation of the dainty nylon and the frilly lace on my denuded
and sensitive body was more to be felt than described.  But this time there was
no erection,  or at least  none  that  caused  a  noticeable bulge in my satiny
panties.  I was learning.

"Time for beddie-bye,  Gretchen," she said.   "Do you need to use the  bathroom
before you retire?  You know where it is."

I  nodded and headed for it.   I started to close the door when she stopped me.
"We're two girls  together.    We  don't  keep  secrets  from each other.   And
remember, we girls sit down to pee."

I took the hint and sat.  Oh, well, I thought philosophically, at least I don't
have to worry about my aim.

"And now to bed.   You will soon learn that your sexual activity will be  under
my direction.   Therefore, to prevent you from playing with yourself during the
night, you must wear these 'chastity irons'.  The chastity irons consisted of a
collar locked about the neck, and a pair of manacles attached to it by about 18
inches  of  chain.   This device very effectively prevented my hands from going
any lower than my chest.

She led me into another bedroom.   At  first  I thought the bed within it was a
hospital bed with side rails,  but then I realized it was built  more  like  an
oversized crib with high side rails.

I looked about, finding the bedroom unusually furnished.   One side of the room
was  decorated just like a nursery.   There were big murals of barnyard animals
on the wall.   There was a cabinet  that  was stacked high with diapers and all
sorts of baby powders and lotions.   Along the floor there were baby  toys  and
other baby things.

The  other side of the room was a picture of femininity.   There was a dressing
table with all sorts of cosmetics and various lotions and powders.  There was a
dresser with some sort of jewelry box,  a pair of pink-shaded table lamps,  and
other dainty feminine decorations.

I really didn't get a good  opportunity  to investigate all of the furnishings.
Miss Irene motioned toward the bed and I crawled in.   She raised the side, and
then reached over and lifted up a top cover,  which she locked down  in  place.
The crib was nothing but a cage!

"I  feel  so much better knowing that you can't walk in your sleep and possibly
injure yourself.  Now, go to sleep.  We have a big day tomorrow."

Leaving a little ducky night light  burning,   she closed the door,  leaving me
alone in my cage with a little furry bear I found laying on the pillow.

                          Chapter Three

When Miss Irene left me, I made a quick check and my suspicions were confirmed.
There was steel under the wood finish of the crib and the locks, although quite
inconspicuous, were solid and secure.   There was no way these were going to be
opened without the key.  I just wasn't going anywhere until Miss Irene came and
released me.

I tried to sleep but the bed was new to me, the surroundings strange, and I was
unsure of my fate.   I would doze off,  suddenly come awake,  then  repeat  the
process.   I guess I finally dropped off because the next think I knew, I awoke
and found Miss Irene smiling down at me.

"Good morning, Gretchen.   Did you sleep well?   I'm glad you like Toto.   Most
young  girls like a cuddly animal to sleep with.   I'm glad you're adjusting so
well."

Glancing down,  I noticed that the bear was snuggled up against my fully-padded
bra.  Embarrassed, I put it aside and climbed out of the crib.

Releasing me from the 'chastity device',  she  handed me a robe that matched my
gown and made me step into a pair of backless mules with about a two-inch  heel
and a large bow on the toe.

After  you clean up,  you may go to the kitchen and fix my breakfast.   I would
like one egg fried, sunny side up, two slices of bacon, not too crisp, cinnamon
toast, orange juice, and coffee, black.  You may serve me in the dining room."

She then turned and walked off.

Shrugging my shoulders,  I did as she  bade.   It felt kind of funny washing up
without having to shave.   I felt my face and it  was  still  as  smooth  as  a
girl's.

It took me a while to get used to the shoes,  and when I got to the kitchen, to
find all the stuff.   I finally succeeded.  While I was at it, I fixed myself a
couple of eggs, some bacon, and coffee.   I brought both plates in and set them
on the dining room table.

I  found Miss Irene in the den and called out,  "Soup's on,  ma'am." She turned
and looked at me coldly.   "You are to address me as Miss Irene.  You will also
make your announcements much more respectable in the future."

"Yes,  Miss Irene.   Your breakfast is ready  in the dining room." I don't know
why I knuckled under so easily.   I knew she could whip me physically,  but  it
was  more  than that.   She just seemed - well,  superior.   She deserved to be
waited on.

She went into the dining room and  saw both plates of food.   "What's this?   I
didn't order all that!"

"Why, I just fixed some for myself.  I figured we could eat together."

"Eat together?   Why,  the maid  eats  in  the  kitchen.    But  for  being  so
presumptuous, you shall eat that here today, that food." She pointed.   "On the
floor.  But first you will serve me."

So I stood behind her as she ate, refilling her coffee cup or whatever else she
wanted.    When she was through,  she motioned for me to clear the table of her
dishes,  but stopped me when  I  started  to  remove  the  food I had fixed for
myself.   She dawdled a while,  sipping her coffee, looking at her fingernails,
just taking her time.   Finally she said,  "All right,  Gretchen, you may eat,"
and swept the food, plates and all, onto the floor.

I looked at her, then at the food on the floor and started to pick it up.   She
stopped me.  "No, Gretchen.  You eat off the floor, with your hands behind you.
I can get the handcuffs if you feel it necessary."

So for the second time in as many meals,  I ate off the floor.   Also,   I  was
learning an important lesson.  Don't presume.

After  trying  to  eat  as best I could,  she finally stopped me and told me to
clean up the floor and then the  kitchen.    She then left me and went into the
bedroom.

I had no sooner finished getting things cleaned up  and  put  away,   when  she
called out, "Gretchen!  Come here!" Obeying, I went into the bedroom.

She  was  dressed  completely  in  a  black  one-piece garment that covered her
completely and concealed nothing.   It  was very thin leatherlike material that
looked more like it was sprayed on rather than  conventionally  dressed.    Her
breasts  jutted out boldly,  her nipples firm and erect.   Her stomach was taut
and lean, her belly button plainly visible.   The material plainly outlined the
thick lips of her vagina  at  the  crotch,  actually emphasizing her femininity
rather than concealing it.

Every line,  every tendon in the long tapering legs showed through the material
and accented every little movement she made.   Her feet were covered by a  pair
of black suede ankle-high boots with at least four inch heels.  In one hand she
held a quirt, idly slapping it into the palm of the other.   The pale hands and
bright  red  fingernails  were  in  sharp  contrast  to  the  dull black of the
ominous-looking braided leather quirt.

Her long black hair framed her  pale  ivory face.   When she smiled,  her small
white even teeth appeared in starling contrast to the rich, succulent, deep red
lips.

She was indeed lovely!   She was seductive!  For the first time I realized what
a male spider must feel when he approached  his  potential  black  widow  mate.
Anything, ever=n, death, was acceptable in return for a tryst.   One union with
this delectable creature was worth life itself!

Miss  Irene,   however,  did not have sex,  or at least the kind I was thinking
about, on her mind.   She was fully intent on domination, training me to be the
perfect maid.   The conception of bending a male to her will,  to make him obey
and tend her at every beck and call was a sexual triumph for her.   I noticed a
small wet spot appear at her crotch  when  I  came in with bowed head and said,
"Yes, Miss Irene."

"On your knees and kiss my feet, then we'll discuss your training."

I obeyed.   It seemed right and natural that I  should  obey  this  lovely  and
imperious creature.   I did so, not only kissing her feet, but abjectly licking
her shoes.   As I did, I could feel my own sex pressing against my panties with
my act of submission.

"All right, Gretchen, on your feet.   I didn't mean for you to slobber all over
my boots."

When I arose and stood before her,  she looked at me.   She suddenly raised the
robe and saw my arousal winning its battle against the smooth nylon panties.

Without  a  moment's  hesitation,   she  lashed out with the quirt.   Twice she
slashed at my unprotected genitals.   Any  idea  that my poor cock had of being
useful was dashed.  My erection flat disappeared.

"You will not get and erection or even become aroused unless  permitted,"  Miss
Irene stated,  still holding my nightgown up and watching my genitals disappear
into my panties.

                          Chapter Four

"It's time you started learning how to present a proper feminine appearance and
acquaint yourself with your duties as my maid.  You can start by taking a bath.
I'll accompany you to insure that you prepare it correctly."

We  went  into  the  tub,  not the ornate luxurious room adjoining Miss Irene's
bedroom, but into the room adjoining the one I slept in.   Although smaller and
not quite as elaborate as the  other,   it was nevertheless well furnished in a
dainty feminine style.   I did note that, as in the other room also, that there
were provisions for infants here also.

She watched as I ran the water.   Under her direction, I liberally applied bath
salts and bubble bath under the flowing water.  As ordered, I removed all of my
clothes.   As I did so,  Miss Irene watched carefully for any signs of arousal.
Fortunately for me, there was none.

After I finished bathing,  and while still  sitting  in  the  tub,   she  again
manacled my hands behind me.  "Okay, you just lay there and soak awhile.  Don't
masturbate.  I'm going to lay out your clothes.  I'll be back in a bit." Taking
the clothes I had been wearing, she left, closing the door behind her.

I  don't  know  how she thought I could masturbate with my hands chained behind
me.

She returned a bit later and removed the cuffs.  I dried myself off with a nice
thick fluffy towel.   The sweet perfumed odor  of the bath salts still clung to
my now dry and tingling body.

Miss Irene then led me back to her bedroom where my clothes were  laid  out  on
the  bed.    There was a lacy pair of pink panties with a matching lace bra and
slip.   Without even being told, I began putting them on.  I still needed a bit
of assistance putting on my bra and inserts.   To digress a moment, the inserts
were filled with a heavy gel-like  material  that  had the weight and feel of a
natural breast.  When they were inserted into my bra cups, they seemed to cling
to my chest and react to my body movement,  even  to  the  point  of  having  a
realistic bounce.

The  slip  was  a new experience for me.   Unlike the nightgown,  it fit snugly
about my body,  making me fully aware of its presence.   Its sleek coolness and
the feel of the lacy hem dancing  across my hairless thighs sent tingles up and
down my spine.   Next came the panty hose,  sheer and silky.   I looked at Miss
Irene; her face was expressionless.  I knew that I had better not mess this up.
Fortunately, I didn't.  I drew the clinging material over my toes and heels, up
my hairless legs,  and on up and over my hips.   Now the slip tingled,  but the
panty hose- !   The taut feeling  about  my  legs  and  thighs,   the  delicate
constriction  of  my  hips and crotch was just indescribable.   No wonder girls
liked to dress up!

I then slid my feet into my shoes.   They fit perfectly.  Now, Miss Irene and I
were of nearly the same size,  so I presumed the clothes she was giving me were
hers;  but I thought it quite  a  coincidence  that  we both wore the same size
shoes.

In any event, I slipped them on.   They were black open-toed pumps with about a
three-inch spiked heel.  "I gave you those mules with the two-inch heels to get
you used to wearing heels.  You should adapt to these quite easily," Miss Irene
noted.

I then put on the dress Miss Irene had chosen,  a maid's uniform,  really.   It
was not like those scanty French  maid  outfits  one  sees  in  sex  magazines;
rather,   it  was  a  no-nonsense  work  uniform,   although quite feminine and
attractive.   It  had  short  puffed  sleeves,   a  belted  waist,  full-flared
petticoated skirt and a white starched pinafore apron,  tied in the back with a
large bow.

She then led me over to the dressing table and began applying makeup.   As  she
applied  it,   she  cautioned  me  to pay attention.   In the future I would be
expected to do this for myself.   Completing the task to her satisfaction,  she
went over to the closet and came back with a wig,  which,  coincidentally,  was
the exact same shade as my own hair.    She  put  it on my head and spent a few
moments brushing it out.   Finally,  she stopped, looked me over and nodded her
head in satisfaction,  and asked,  "Well,  would you like to see what you  look
like as my feminized maid?"

Do fish swim?  You bet I wanted to see what she had done to me.

I  jumped up and made for the full-length mirror,  then almost twisted my ankle
and fell.   Those three-inch spiked heels  with  a  base of less than a half an
inch were a far cry from the two inch heels on the pumps.   However,  I quickly
discovered that the basic technique was the same.   Only now my steps had to be
shorter and more precise.

"If you would point your toes straight ahead and kind of walk like you were  on
a tightrope, you should rather easily and quickly develop a more feminine style
of walking," Miss Irene commented to my retreating back.

I  wasn't  paying  to  much  attention  to her words;  I was busy staring at my
reflection.   From what I saw,  I  could  easily  pass as a girl.   Maybe not a
beautiful one,  but still fairly attractive.   My hair,   which  I  had  always
thought  of  as  a  nondescript blonde,  was another matter when lengthened and
brushed out.  It fell in soft waves, almost to my shoulders.  There appeared to
be tiny glints of gold shining through it when the light struck it in a certain
way.

My eyes were gray and  rather  wide  set.    Miss  Irene had accented them with
mascara,  eye shadow,  eye liner, and painfully arched and emphasized eyebrows.
My lips were colored a full red and were glossed to a luscious sheen.  Finally,
my high cheekbones were shaded and lightly colored  to  draw  attention  to  me
eyes.

All  in  all,   my  face  was  quite  attractive  with an open kind of innocent
expression.   My body didn't look bad either; by necessity, I had skipped a few
meals.  I had kept pretty trim in my waist and my tummy was lean and flat.  The
inserts in my bra gave a  perfect  swelling  in the bosom,  and the high-heeled
pumps put a perfect taper in my legs and calves.

I pranced and pirouetted,  looking at myself from all angles while  Miss  Irene
smiled indulgently as one does to a child with a new dress.

"You  do  look  quite acceptable,  Gretchen.   We'll finish up with the details
later this evening."

"Details?  What details?"

"Why,  paint your fingernails  and  toenails  and  pierce  your ears,  for some
examples.   I'm still leaning toward getting you breast implants until you  can
grow your own.  I guess I'll talk to Mistress Circe about it."

"Paint my nails?   Pierce my ears?  Grow my own breasts?  Why do you want to do
all  that  stuff when you are going to let me go in just a few days after I act
as your maid for your party?"

"I told you before, I never promised to let you go right away.  I only told you
that if you agreed  I  wouldn't  report  you  to the authorities.   Now,  we'll
discuss what happens later at another time.   All I'll  say  now  is  that  you
should prepare yourself to stay a while."

"Why, you can't do that!  You can't keep me here against my will."

"I  can  do  any  damned  thing I want to with you,  and do it for as long as I
please.   Don't forget that.  No one knows you're here, and I doubt that anyone
really cares."

"Now you have a house to clean, so get with it."

"I'll be damned if I will," I said.   "I'm not going to do a damned thing until
you promise to let me go as you said."

Miss Irene just looked at me and sighed.  "I just knew it would eventually come
to this.   Well, if you need a demonstration, then you shall have one." She got
up and went over to a bureau,   reached into one of the drawers,  and returned,
carrying the quirt in her hand.

She approached me,  and I began backing away but tripped, not being used to the
high-heeled shoes.   She reached down,  grabbed my by my wrist and forced me to
my feet.   With no apparent effort,  she twisted my arm way up behind my  back,
forcing to me to bend over helplessly.

She marched me over to the bed,  sat down, and forced me to lay across her lap.
Laying the quirt down on the bed beside her, she raised my dress and slip.  She
then pulled down my panties and hose, leaving my bottom exposed to the world.

Picking up the quirt,  she began whipping me.   I squirmed, I struggled, all to
no avail.   Meanwhile, she was vigorously applying the braided quirt to my bare
bottom.   I began swearing,  but that didn't help,  so I began pleading, almost
crying.    The  pain was really becoming quite severe.   It had no effect on my
tormentor.   She kept laying down the quirt where she felt it would do the most
good.

Finally,  exhausted,  I gave up  the  struggle and lay whimpering and quiescent
across her lap as she continued  with  the  whipping.    Once  I  gave  up  the
struggle,  she ceased.   "Do we have an understanding that you are my feminized
maid and will do as I say?  I can continue this all day.   It doesn't hurt me a
bit."

"You win," I moaned. "I'll do anything you say, just let me up."

She  gave  me  one last vicious whack and then released me.   "Now pull up your
panties and straighten your dress!"

Gently and as delicately as I could,   I  pulled my panties and hose up over my
tender bottom and pulled down my slip,  fluffing out my skirt so that it  again
hung neatly.

She arose from sitting on the bed and stood facing me.  "Now, curtsy for me and
say that you are sorry for questioning my authority,  and that you will obey me
in the future."

All  thoughts  of  rebellion  were  erased  by the pain in my bottom.   My only
thought was to appease this iron  hard  female who looked so lovely,  innocent,
and delicate.   I made an attempt at a curtsy and said, "I'm sorry I questioned
your authority, Miss Irene.  I will obey all of your orders in the future."

"Just don't forget this mild lesson.   I can do this anytime I wish,  and if  I
think  it  necessary,   I have a room where I can hang you from the ceiling and
lash you with a real whip until you get the message that I am your superior."

I inwardly shuddered.  After this last fiasco, I knew she could and would do it
if she thought it was necessary or if  she just had the notion to discipline me
severely.

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