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---------------------------------- GRETCH02 -----------------------------------

                                  Chapter Five

She then ordered, "You have a house to clean, so get with it!"

Get with it,  I did.   I mopped.   I scrubbed floors.   I vacuumed, I dusted, I
polished the furniture.  I did everything necessary to clean the house until it
was spotless.  I even did the windows; inside, that is.

Meanwhile,  Miss Irene was doing exercises and practicing her martial arts.   I
sneaked a few minutes to peek in a watch her.   Seeing her  work  out  made  me
understand  how she took me down so easily when I first tried to jump her,  and
then how she had overpowered me when she gave me the spanking,  which, in fact,
still hurt.   I knew there  was  no  way  that  I  could  get the better of her
physically without a club or something.

Occasionally,  she would interrupt me in my work,  force me into  the  dressing
room and remove my makeup,  and make me re-apply it.   We did that four or five
times during the day.   The first few times it was a disaster and she had to do
it over for me.  The third time, so-so.  The fourth time I was almost passable.
At least I was getting better.

She  also  interrupted  me  at  lunch.   I had to fix her a meal and then stand
behind her while she ate,  making sure her every need was fulfilled.   I should
also mention that she would interrupt me all during the day to serve her drinks
or otherwise do her bidding.

After she ate,  she allowed me  to  eat  in the kitchen.   My meal consisted of
eating what she had left on her plate.   It may have been humiliating,  but for
me,  it was a giant step up.   For the first time since I  had  come  into  the
house, I didn't have to eat off the floor.

I  might also mention that early on,  I had complained about doing housework in
high heels,  pointing out that regular  maids doing menial work wore low-heeled
shoes while working.   I argued that I could do a better job cleaning the house
if she allowed me this freedom.

She only laughed and replied that  regular  maids  already  knew  how  to  wear
high-heeled shoes and that housework was their occupation.  But in my case, not
only  must  I  learn  housework,   I must also learn to accustom myself to high
heels.   It was also  necessary  to  keep  me  aware  that  I  must get used to
accepting a subservient role and wear feminine clothes.   No arguing with that.


I guess it was around five-thirty when I finished.   If  the  house  was  clean
before, it was sterile now.

It was now time to begin preparing Miss Irene's evening meal.   Fortunately,  I
had  spent  some  time  in  my  wanderings as a short- order cook,  so I wasn't
completely lost in front of a  stove.    Also,  the meal she ordered was rather
simple to prepare.   I had no trouble making it.    She  did  mention,   rather
emphatically,   that I had better learn to prepare more exotic foods as she and
her guests enjoyed a varied menu.

It was after seven  before  I  finished  preparing  and  serving the meal.   As
instructed,  I stood behind her while she ate so that I would be  available  in
case she wanted something.  My meal was in the same manner as lunch.  I ate her
leftovers in the kitchen.

Completing  the  cleanup,  I went and bathed.   I again used the sweet-smelling
bath crystals and the bubble bath.  By now I was starting to enjoy this part of
it and thought that after I was freed,  I'd continue to bathe this way whenever
possible.

After I bathed and dried myself,  I put  on a clean lace bra and inserts that I
found on my crib (cage?).   I had a bit of difficulty but I was getting used to
the technique of snagging hooks behind me.

Next was baby doll nightie and a matching short robe  that  barely  covered  my
hips.    The lace bikini panties were elasticized in the crotch,  which held my
genitals back between my legs,  completely hiding them out of sight.   Smearing
some night cream on my face that  Miss  Irene  told me I'd find on the dressing
table, I went into the den to join her.

She was there waiting for me,  similarly clad.   When she saw me she produced a
bowl of ice cubes,  a few of which she wrapped in some cloth.   She told me  to
hold one against each ear, which I did until they began to feel numb.

She  then  severely  pinched  each  ear  in  turn and began fumbling with them,
finally stepping back.

"When are you going to pierce  them,"  I asked,  secretly hoping that she would
change her mind.

"It's already done,  and the keepers are in place," she replied.   We'll  check
them  again in the morning.   I see no reason why you shouldn't be able to wear
any style I select for you by then."

Under her close direction,  I filed and shaped my fingernails and toenails, and
applied a bright red polish on  them.    She remarked that my fingernails would
look much more attractive when they grew out longer.

When they were completely dry,  she affixed the chastity irons about my  wrists
and  neck  to  prevent  me  from reaching down to my crotch and playing with my
genitals.

She took me up to my bedroom and again locked me in my crib/cage and left me to
my own thoughts for the night.

And so ended my first full day of feminized captivity.

                           Chapter Six

The next day started exactly  as  the  previous one.   After being released and
doing my morning necessities, I went into the kitchen and prepared Miss Irene's
breakfast.   This time I didn't make the mistake of thinking I  was  worthy  of
eating with her.

After  serving  her  and  again  eating  her  leftovers,  I went to her room in
response to her summons.   She was  wearing only a peignoir,  not the elaborate
costume she had worn the previous morning.   "You will be my personal  maid  as
well  as  do  the  housework,   cook,  and serve meals.   You may as well start
learning now.  You can begin by helping me with my bath.  Draw the water, warm,
but not too hot.  Remember to add the bath crystals on the counter."

I did as she ordered,  constantly testing the water,  all the while hoping that
she would like the temperature I selected.

When the water was ready,  I went in  to inform her.   She slipped off the robe
and, well, she undulated into the bath.

Yesterday,  she was erotic while wearing the sexy costume.   Today, unclad, she
was beautiful.  Her body was perfect.  The pink nipples and aureoles capped her
perfect breasts that rose to their full perfection.   The dark pubic patch  had
been shaved to form a perfect heart.   Awe-struck, I gazed at her as she passed
me and went into the tub.

She dipped her toe in the water, testing it.   "It's a bit warm, but acceptable
this first time.  However, next time have it a few degrees cooler."

"Yes, Miss Irene."

She entered the tub and I helped her bathe.   I washed her back, handed her the
washcloth or soap or whatever she wanted.   When she was through,  I patted her
dry with a large fluffy bath towel.

We  the  returned to the bedroom.   She turned,  facing me.   "Get down on your
knees," she ordered.  I complied.

She approached me until there were  only  a  few inches between my face and her
furry patch.   "You will now service me,  and use your tongue," she  commanded,
pulling my head up into her crotch.

I  pushed  my  nose into her,  and then hesitantly at first,  slipped my tongue
between the thick wet lips of her  labia and began working it around.   I found
the hot musky taste of her vaginal fluids quite tantalizing.

My exploring tongue moved about within her vagina.  I felt her quiver as erotic
sensations were being aroused within her body.   Suddenly, I wanted to make her
come.   I wanted to orally satisfy her so that she would reach orgasm.  I began
driving my tongue deeper while at the same time thrashing it about within  her,
trying to stimulate her to greater arousal.

Apparently  I  met  with  some success as her gyrations on my mouth became more
frantic and the fleshy lips  of  her  pink  tunnel  became coated with a thick,
gooey lubricant, which I collected on my tongue.

I don't know how long I, or rather we,  kept it up.   She kept getting more and
more excited and held my face so far up against her snatch that I could  hardly
breathe.   At that moment, I didn't care.  I only wanted for her to climax into
my subservient mouth.

She  finally  gave  a  tremendous  tremor  and  sighed  audibly,  then relaxed,
satiated.

Releasing my head,  she ordered me to  my feet.   Pulling down my lace panties,
she smiled triumphantly.

"You're learning how to obey." I looked down in  amazement.    All  during  the
whole erotic act,  I had no physical arousal.   My cock was still soft and limp
although I was on an erotic high.

"As  a  reward for your obedience,  you have my permission to have an erection.
In fact, I order you to have one."

Apparently of its own volition,  my  cock  started  to obey.   I could feel the
blood pulsing within it.   I watched it  slowly  engorge  until  within  a  few
seconds  it  stood  straight  and  stiff,  pressing the front of my panties out
obscenely.

I can't explain it.  Ordinarily I considered my cock to have a mind of its own.
It would get erect in  crowds,   embarrassing  me with its distinct bulge.   At
other times I'd be embarrassed for no good reason because it wouldn't come  up.
Now, here, in one day, this strange woman was making it do as she wished.

"You are a bit repressed, aren't you?"

"Yes, Miss Irene.  Horny would be a better word.  It's been quite a while."

She  handed  me  a  pair of her panties.   "You have my permission to have some
relief.  Masturbate yourself into those panties."

"Here?  Now?  Right in front of you?"

"Certainly.    You  must  not  have  any  ejaculation  or  erection  without my
permission.   On the other hand, if I should order it, you WILL comply.   Also,
you will only have sexual arousal by my orders,  unless,  of course,  I lend to
other mistresses.  Then you will obey them as you would me."

I was red-faced and embarrassed.  I had never been specifically ordered to beat
my meat, nor had I ever done it in the presence of a lovely woman.   Miss Irene
stood there with a slight smile on her lips,  enjoying her superiority  and  my
embarrassment.

"Well, are going to deliberately disobey me or are you going to begin?"

I reached down and grabbed my cock.  It felt hot in my hand.  I began to stroke
it.   She stared intently at my activity.  I gradually began manipulating it at
a faster pace.   It responded,  beginning to throb somewhat, a bit of ejaculate
lubricating  it.    I gradually increased the rapidity of my stroking and could
feel my excitement rising.

I was soon rapt with the sensations  rising  within me.   I knew Miss Irene was
still watching me, but I was no longer embarrassed.   I did note, without being
fully aware of it, that she was staring intently at my masturbation, her breath
coming in short gasps in unison with my own.

Suddenly,  I knew it was time and placed the panties over the tip of my swollen
cock.  I closed my eyes and exploded!

As I was ejaculating,  I felt a cool hand over my own.   I opened my  eyes  and
looked down.   Miss Irene's hand was over mine,  her body was bucking,  and I'd
swear that she had an orgasm in conjunction with mine.

She  recovered  her  composure  rather quickly,  and as I was coming back to my
senses she said,  "Yesterday,  you  cleaned  the  house.   Today is washing and
ironing day.   You will take your bath and apply your own makeup.  Instead of a
uniform, you will find a skirt and blouse lying on your bed.  I want you to get
used to wearing various sorts of female clothing."

"When you are finished dressing and applying your makeup and feel that you  are
presentable, report to me for inspection.   After you pass, I'll show you where
the laundry is and what you have to do."

Relaxed, and finally at ease with myself, I left to do as she ordered.

I  took  my  bath  as  directed,   liberally  dumping  in the bath crystals and
luxuriating in the sweet-smelling warm water.  Completing the bath, I went into
my room and discovered a complete wardrobe laid out on my bed.

I put on the white nylon lace panties that were liberally embroidered with pink
butterflies.   The matching  bra,   I  discovered  with some satisfaction,  was
front-hooked, which for me was much easier to put on.  The skirt portion of the
slip was of a sleek white nylon.   The bodice was form-fitting  and  all  lace;
even  the  shoulder  straps  were  lace.    The same pale pink butterflies that
adorned my panties and bra were also on the slip.

The blouse was pullover type  with  a  modified  'V' neck full of lace ruffles.
The sleeves were short and puffed.   The  cuffs  were  white  satin  with  lace
ruffles  similar  to  those around the collar.   The material of the blouse was
very sheer,  almost transparent,  and the lace of the slip could easily be seen
through it.

The skirt was pale pink,  made from  a soft wool fabric.   It was fully pleated
and had its own self belt.

The panty hose were a very light shade of beige and were  very  sheer,   almost
invisible when worn, except for the sheen that accented the pleasing appearance
of my shaved legs.   The three- inch heeled shoes were open-toed with spaghetti
straps that buckled around the ankle.

I  also  discovered  a  fine  gold  necklace  with  a tiny pendant,  a matching
bracelet,  and a pair of pierced earrings with pendants that matched the one on
the necklace.

Prior to putting on my skirt and blouse, I applied my makeup.   I was still far
from an expert but at least by now  I  had  a  good idea as to how to apply the
various cremes and colors.   I selected a lipstick  that  would  match  my  red
nails,   with  a  slight  pink cast.   I figured that would match the pale pink
skirt.  I also selected a very light shade of pink for my eye shadow, hoping it
would kind of go with the outfit.   Although I was learning to apply makeup,  I
still had a long way to go in learning to match colors and shades.

Completing my makeup, I carefully put on the rest of my feminine clothing, then
the jewelry, and finally set the wig on my head and brushed it out.

Looking myself over,  satisfied with  what  I  saw,  I presented myself to Miss
Irene.

She took one look and exclaimed,  "I thought I taught you how to apply mascara.
It should look natural, and each lash should be separate, not glued together in
clumps as you have done."

She reached into her own vanity,  rustled through it for a few  moments,   then
returned.    "Here is a mascara comb.   Go back and fix that mascara.   When it
looks right, let me see it again."

I did as she directed and was  surprised  at how effective the little comb was.
It smoothed and separated each lash,  making them appear longer  and  decidedly
more attractive.

Again  I presented myself to Miss Irene.   This time she grudgingly approved of
my appearance.  I felt quite proud of my accomplishments, and strangely enough,
I also enjoyed the feeling of attractive femininity that I knew I portrayed.

Miss Irene wasted no time, and led me into the laundry room.  "all the lingerie
that is here,  you will wash by hand." She then instructed me as to how to wash
the rest of the items,  and  cautioned  me  to  be careful of the clothes I was
wearing.   There were of a light color and delicate fabrics.   I  believe  Miss
Irene  deliberately  selected  them to make it difficult.   Then she left me to
myself.

There wasn't a whole lot of the  regular laundry.   A few sheets,  some towels,
and a load or so of wash-n-wear clothing,  belonging, I assumed, to Miss Irene.
There were blouses, skirts, shorts, jeans, and things of that sort.  I eyed the
jeans,  some of them,  and even the blouses,  a few of which looked  like  they
would not be too out of place if worn by a male.

It  put  the thought of escape in my mind,  but until I could figure a way out,
such thoughts were useless.  So I went back to the task at hand.

There were no problems with washing  the  clothes.    I put them in the washer,
then the dryer, and let them go.  The lingerie was another matter.  There was a
mountain of it.   It was hard to imagine that any one person could have so many
underclothes,  much less get them all so that they all needed  washing  at  the
same time.   My mistress much change her undies four or five times a day and go
that way for a month to have that much to wash.

I  started  the  washing  machine  and  then began sorting and hand washing the
lingerie.  Panties, hose, slips, gowns, bras, everything.  It seemed that there
were zillions of each kind in every imaginable style and color.

Originally,  I had thought that this would be an easy day - after all, how many
clothes does one woman wear?    I  mentioned  something about it while I served
lunch to Miss Irene.

"Oh,  most of that lingerie belongs to friends.   They asked me to have it done
when they discovered I was going to get a maid."

Now, how did they, or Miss Irene, know she was going to get a maid, at least me
specifically?  If I hadn't, by chance, accepted that ride, then been hauled off
and dumped hereabouts, I'd never have been anywhere near this place.   Did they
have someone else in mind?   If they did, then there should be two of us.   Did
she know in advance somehow that I or someone else would come by?   Or did  she
have other plans, and I just happened by and caused a last- minute change?  The
idle comment Miss Irene made brought all sorts of questions to my mind.  I even
get up the nerve and temerity to ask her how they knew she would obtain a maid.


She  looked  at me frostily and simply replied that it was none of my business.
I was merely her maid and I would  be better off to learn my duties rather than
to worry about matters that didn't concern me.

There was one hint she did give.   She said that if it  suited  their  purpose,
Mistress  Circe would teach me all I needed to know in order to become a better
maid.

"Who is Mistress Circe?", I boldly inquired.

"Mistress Circe is the queen of the  Sisters  of  Circe.   She and a few of her
aides will be here for dinner tomorrow night.   They will judge your appearance
and deportment to see if you are worthy of continued development and training."

"Oh, if I don't pass, you turn me loose?"

"We have said enough about this.   You had better realize that what you  learn,
how you look and act will have a real bearing on whether you live or die.  Your
impertinence will also be considered in your judgment.   I should add that your
unprovoked  attack upon me and subsequent punishment will also be considered in
your final judgment.  Your impertinent behavior that I am observing now doesn't
help you in the judgment."

I didn't need to be clubbed to get the hint.   "Yes, Miss Irene," I apologized,
clumsily trying to curtsy.  "Is there anything else you need?"

She smiled at my attempted curtsy and said, "No, Gretchen, that's all.  You had
better get back to work.   However,  it would be a good idea for you to be more
graceful when you curtsy to acknowledge my orders."

Rather subdued, I returned to the laundry room.  From the hints that Miss Irene
dropped,  there was something more than me just acting as a maid for one party.
It appeared that my future  had  but  one  real choice,  slavery as a feminized
maid.   The options of death or insanity were no choices.   As  far  as  I  was
concerned, there was no other choice.

I  finally finished the lingerie and began hanging the items on lines that were
strung across the room.  While hanging them up, I took the opportunity to study
the windows.   As I should have expected, the windows were locked and had heavy
grilles bolted to them.   Not  to  keep  intruders  out,   but to make sure the
subject of feminization, me, stayed in.

While I was looking over the windows,  with a very faint hope of escape  on  my
mind,   Miss  Irene  walked in and saw me.   "That's right," she said.   "Every
window is securely barred.   I  don't  want  my domestic help to 'accidentally'
fall out and hurt themselves.   And you should also know that all of the  doors
are  steel  and  the  locks  are  all  electrically operated.   Even if by some
far-fetched chance you managed to overcome me,  there still wouldn't be any way
out.  And the punishment for trying would be most severe."

Despondently, I knew that she spoke the truth.   My fate was sealed.  Even if I
could overwhelm my captor,  I'd be  trapped  in the house until Mistress Circe,
whoever she was, came in and found me.

"Oh, yes, another thing.  The telephone is fixed so that all outgoing calls are
routed through the local Sisters of Circe lines."

"Oh, I wasn't thinking of escape, Miss Irene.  I'd never try to escape from you
or to make a telephone call without your permission," I lied,  going back to my
chores.

"I just know you wouldn't, Gretchen," she said with a knowing smile.

I finally finished the wash.  Miss Irene told me to leave the dainties hanging.
When Miss Irene's friends came, they would pick their own right off the line.

                          Chapter Seven

Miss Irene made an inspection of the washing and ironing.   After finding a few
pleats in one skirt ironed incorrectly,  which I had to do over, she grudgingly
approved my work.

She ordered me to bathe and to prepare myself wit clothes I would  find  on  my
bed.    When  I  was  ready,  I was to report to the den for her inspection and
scrutiny.

After bathing,  I went to find my clothes on the bed as I was instructed.   The
dress Miss Irene  had  chosen  for  me  was  a  long  sleeved  gown  of a sheer
crepe-like material.    It  was  peach-colored  and  lavishly  ornamented  with
sequins, which gliitered and sparkled as it moved.  It had a high empress-style
waistline.   A bright diamond-shaped pin,  covered with rhinestones, was placed
between  the breasts,  accenting the bustline.   The gown was floor- length and
draped seductively from my hips to the floor.  It had a side slit almost to the
waist which  gave  an  occasional  tantalizing  glimpse  of  a  long expanse of
nylon-clad leg.

The lingerie consisted of matching panties,  strapless bra,  garter belt, and a
long half-slip that also had a side slit.  The long sheer hose also had a faint
peach cast to match my dress.   There was a pair  of  shoes  with  at  least  a
four-inch spiked heel in same color to match the gown.

There  was  a  necklace  a  pair  of dangling earrings which I inserted into my
pierced ears.   The jewelry was pearl (I don't think they were real pearls, but
they sure did look nice).

Needless to say,  I took extra  special  pains and utilized my growing skill to
put on my makeup and brush out my wig.   For a fleeting moment I wished my  own
hair was long enough for it to be femininely styled.

You  used  to  read those stories about how some guy got himself dressed up and
turned out to be more  beautiful  and  glamorous than his girlfriend.   Not me.
There was no way I  could  approach  Irene's  beauty  or  attractiveness.    My
reflection was that of a rather attractive young lady,  one who appeared naive,
almost  virginal,   but  wanting to appear as a sophisticated young lady of the
world.

I suddenly realized that I was enjoying my feminization!  What was happening to
me?   I had never had the leats desire to 'dress up' before.   Now I gloried in
it.   In fact, I could hardly wait to join Miss Irene and hope for her approval
of my girlish appearance.

I decided that later  I  would  have  to  analyze  my  feelings.   Right now it
wouldn't do to make Miss Irene wait for me while I pondered on this concept.

With a bit of trepidation I went to meet Miss Irene in the  den,   stumbling  a
little as my heels were higher than any I had worn previously.   Also, I tended
to trip as I was not used to such a long skirt.


Miss Irene was waiting for me, similarly clad in a long evening gown.  However,
where mine was of an innocent pastel color and relatively modest except for the
side slit, hers was of flaming red, backless, with a plunging neckline exposing
the deep cleavage between her breasts.

The difference carried deeper than our appearance.   I was shy,  diffident, and
rather nervous.  Hell, I never thought I'd be forced into feminine attire, much
less a glamorous evening gown.

Miss Irene,  on the other hand,  was confident, self-assured, and well aware of
the lovely vision she presented.   There was no doubt that she was the dominant
personality.

When she saw me,  she smiled,  "Why, Gretchen, you look charming!   Turn around
and let me see all of you."

I obeyed, doing a slight pirouette and replied, "Thank you, Miss Irene.  I must
say that you look quite attractive yourself."

For tonight,  let's dispense with the 'Miss'.   You have docilely accepted your
status for the last couple of days, except, of course, for the bit of rebellion
that I effectively quelled.   Other than, that, you have been quite cooperative
and are adapting well to your new role.   Tomorrow at this time,  you'll either
be  dead  or  starting  on an intensive training course to prepare you to be an
obedient subject to me and other members of the Sisters of Circe."

"Who are these Sisters of Circe and this Mistress Circe you keep referring to?"

"I may explain to you later.   But  first,  if you look in the freezer,  you'll
find two prepared meals.   If you will put them  in  the  microwave  for  about
thirty minutes,  they'll be ready.   Meanwhile,  I'll fix us a couple of drinks
while we're waiting."

Well, I did and she did.  When I returned from the kitchen, she had a couple of
Martinis  in lovely long-stemmed crystal glasses.   They were potent.   I think
she forgot to take the cork out of the vermouth bottle.  The only thing I could
see diluting the gin were the olives, and they were small.

We had three before  the  microwave  signaled  that  dinner was ready.   In any
event, I was feeling the effect of them before we started to eat.

The meal was fantastic:  rock Cornish hens stuffed with some sort of wild  rice
dressing  and  all of the trimmings.   Its amazing what they can do with frozen
prepared meals these days.

After the meal we sat together on the overstuffed couch in the den.   It wasn't
real cold but Irene started a  small  fire in the fireplace.   The flames began
flickering hypnotically.   At the same time,  Irene began plying us with Brandy
Alexanders.   Smooth and potent.   Like being hit with velvet  sledge  hammers.
After  the last few days of involuntary servitude,  I was enjoying this evening
immensely.

Irene took one of my hands in  hers.   The other she draped about my shoulders,
pulling me close and laying my head on her shoulder.   "How do you like being a
girl?" she asked softly.

"Right now I'm enjoying it to the  Nth  degree.    I  feel  like  I  have  sole
possession of cloud nine," I replied.  Strangely enough, I did.

Now,   I've  heard  of  guys getting a kick out of wearing feminine clothes and
always thought of them as a bit nuts  and kind of sissified.   But I must say I
was enjoying wearing my clothes immensely.   The taut suspension of my bra  and
the  gentle  swell  of my breasts when I looked down at them was very sensuous.
The gossamer nylon hose seemed to add a soft sheen to my legs, and I could feel
the sheerness of them when I happened to rub my legs together.  Even the slight
tug of my garter belt felt  natural  and  gave me a comfortable feeling knowing
that it was holding my nylons up and keeping them free of wrinkles.   I decided
then and there that I liked the garter belt and nylons much better  than  panty
hose.

The  gown  and  slip felt comfortable and natural and my skin tingled where the
hem dangled about my ankles.   When  the  side slit fell apart and displayed an
expanse of nylon-clad leg it added a sense of daring and a feeling of  feminine
vulnerability.

My  genitals,   imprisoned by the sheer silky nylon of my panties was eroticism
personified.   I don't believe that  I  could  make a movement without becoming
aware of their soft and gentle confinement.

I realized that I was now hooked.   Even if,  by some far-fetched chance, I was
able to manage an escape,  I would still be a prisoner to my newfound desire to
wear feminine clothing for the rest of my life.

                          Chapter Eight

In any event,  after starting on the second drink, I asked Miss Irene about the
Sisters of Circe.

"The Sisters of Circe," she replied,  "is an  organization  of  free-  thinking
women,   aware  of  their  superiority  and  dedicated  to  the humiliation and
abasement of men as payment  for  the  years they have suffered under masculine
domination.    They  do  this  symbolically  by  capturing  a  male  slave  and
humiliating him.   This humiliation may be by feminizing them, by infantilizing
them,  or by training them to be pets animals.   Of course,  the women are  not
limited to these classifications.  They can train their males any way they wish
as  long as the subject is constantly aware of his subjugation to the whims and
desires of his mistress."

"In fact," she continued,  deviating from  the  subject a moment,  "I know of a
woman who made a bed pot out of her male slave.   However,  this is an  extreme
example and is not generally practiced."

"The main purpose is not the method.   It is the desire, the whim, and even the
fetish of the mistress.   It is to continually make the subject male aware that
he  is  under  the  control  of  his  mistress and has no free will of his own,
forever!"

"Yeah," I replied,   "but  this  Sisters  of  Circe  sounds  like  a pretty big
organization to me.  How come I've never even heard of it?"

"That's not surprising.   Despite everything that you may have heard, women can
be very close-mouthed when necessary.  There are no living ex-slaves, sane ones
anyway, that may talk about our organization."

"I guess it's all right now to tell you a little about us,  since you won't  be
able to repeat it to anyone, except possibly other slaves."

Here is the story she told me.   She did put words in the mouths of some of the
women,   which  may  or  may not be quite precise,  but it did clear up several
points.

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