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---------------------------------- GRETCH03 -----------------------------------

                                * * * * * * * * *

                              THE SISTERS OF CIRCE

The Sisters of Circe was  started  about  a  hundred years ago.   It seems that
there was a group of rather wealthy and independent-  minded  women  who  would
meet regularly.   They would discuss many topics of the day,  but generally the
main  and  central object of discussion always came back to the subject of male
domination,  the treatment of  women  as  property,   and  most of all,  how to
overcome this domination and give women at least equal rights.

"You must remember that this was in the  late  eighteen-seventies  and  women's
rights  were  not  even  thought  about then.   Women were considered to be the
property of their husbands or fathers," Irene interrupted herself.

During one of these meetings,  one of the younger women burst out, "I'd like to
take one of those men and make him  wear  a bustle and girdle and all the other
uncomfortable clothing and perform the menial housework that we women  have  to
put up with."

"Oh,  you say that,  but you couldn't handle my pet dog,  let alone a big adult
independent male," another woman answered sarcastically.

"I  could  too!    I'm quite athletic.   I'm an excellent horsewoman and tennis
player.   Besides,  my brother has a book  on the manly art of self-defense and
I've been sneaking it off and practicing.   I don't  want  any  big,   hulking,
clumsy  oaf.    I'd  pick  one  who  is small and delicate,  one who would look
attractive in women's clothes."

"And where do you think you would find such a man?" another woman asked.

"Males of that sort are all about and quite easy to find, if one wants to look.
Why,  my father's tailor has  an  eighteen-year-old apprentice who would make a
lovely-looking girl.   He's small and delicate.   I'll bet that  master  tailor
would  sell him for little or nothing,  and he's an orphan.   No one would ever
miss him.  I imagine there must be thousands like him."

The meeting degenerated from "I wish  I  could--"  to "How's the best way to--"
and finally to "If you had one, where would you keep him?"

Finally,  one of the older women spoke up.   "Except for me,  my family is  all
dead.   We have a large estate in the country h=that no one uses anymore.  It's
quite isolated.   We don't talk about it much, but father used to catch runaway
slaves and hold them there until their masters would come to get them.   It has
several  rooms  that  were used as jail cells.   It also has a punishment area,
another way to say torture chamber.  Now, if any of you women are serious about
the idea of overpowering,   capturing,   and  training  a male to wear feminine
clothing, then you're welcome to use of the estate."

"All right," one woman jibed at the first speaker,   "you  now  know  where  to
obtain your 'man'.   You are offered a place to train him.   Now,  what are you
going to do about it?"

Stung  by the dare,  the woman replied,  "I'll do it if someone else will do it
with me."

That created another uproar,  and when the dust had settled,  no less than five
women had each volunteered  to  domesticate  and  feminize  a  man of their own
choosing.

The women agreed to a few basic rules.   No male under eighteen would be taken.
Otherwise,  a woman could get a lad of ten or twelve and train him with  little
difficulty.

It  should be noted that putting boys in dresses for discipline measures was an
accepted procedure in those days.   If a  woman could find a male over eighteen
who had been through this discipline, it was her good luck.

The second rule was that the selected make should not have  any  close  kin  or
friends who would raise a big stink if he should suddenly turn up missing.

The third was that a male,  once selected,  would be trained and kept for life,
or  killed,   no  exceptions.    There would be no opportunity for ex-slaves to
disclose any information about the group.

There was a bit of argument  over  this rule,  but its importance was accepted.
It just meant that the women would be extremely  selective  in  choosing  their
subjects.

It  should  be  noted that through the years,  only a handful of males suffered
this fate, and these in every case demonstrated violent criminal tendencies.

Basically, that was it.   Find a male over eighteen that suits you, one with no
close family ties and have at  it.    With  only a few minor exceptions,  these
rules still apply today.

Well, to get back to the story, those five women found their subjects.   Taking
them to this isolated estate,   they  trained  them  with  surprisingly  little
difficulty.   Contrary to popular belief, the women quickly discovered that the
difference  in  physical  strength  between  the  sexes  was  negligible.   The
individual with the most rigorous training  and  the practicing of what we know
call the martial arts made the difference.  All of the women who first accepted
this challenge were quite physical and aggressive.  They had no real difficulty
in subjugating and training their males.

They also found an unexpected bonus in this 'experiment'.   Once the  male  had
been  thoroughly  dominated and forced to wear women's clothing,  they actually
embraced their femininity and adored  their mistresses.   They would endure any
punishment and discipline just for the honor of serving them.

Those old-time women had one problem with  their  feminized  males,   though  -
facial  hair.    There  were  no depilatories or even safety razors then - only
straight razors.   These razors would shave as close or even closer than safety
razors today - in the hands  of  an  expert.   There were probably many who had
light beards or were able to shave closely every day who had no trouble passing
as women.

However,  there were a number of feminized males who could  not  shave  closely
every day.  These made full use of veils which were very common at that time to
hide their stubble.   This may have been a significant reason why veils were so
popular then.

All in all,  these first five women were quite successful in establishing their
dominance over their feminized male slaves.

Like most endeavors,  success breeds success, and over the years, the number of
women  wanting  male slaves burgeoned.   No one knows how many there are today.
There may be hundreds, thousands, perhaps even millions.

The original estate where the first males were taken is no longer in existence.
The women  spread  out  and  formed  individual  groups  in  their  own town or
locality.   Each group  maintains  its  own  membership.    There  is  a  loose
confederation,  but by common consent, each woman keeps her affiliation secret.
There  are  signs  and  passwords  so  that members from different chapters can
recognize each other.

Another gradual change has been the  growth in the diversification of training.
At first,  the women were only interested in feminizing their males.   However,
some of the women became interested in variations.   Now,  in addition  to  our
feminized males,  we also have males who have been infantilized,  trained to be
pets  of  one  sort or another in all kinds of variations,  limited only by the
imagination of the dominant woman.

Although the organization still operates  basically  the same,  there have been
some changes over the years.  In the late nineteen-forties, one of the members,
a neurosurgeon,  attempted to develop a procedure whereby males failing  to  be
acceptable could have their memories of their captivity excised.   However, the
procedure resulted only in insanity for the poor subjects.

Despite  this  one  unfortunate  failure,   we  women  have  developed  several
improvements  in  our  procedures.   We now have improved depilatories,  female
hormones,  and breast implants,  and even  the birth control pill was developed
from original studies done by members of the Sisters of Circe.

Needless to say,  we women adopted all  the  new  techniques  in  our  training
methods and disciplinary measures.   However, over the years we have found that
nothing has been quite as effective as the good old fashioned lap spanking.  It
combines  a  measured  infliction  of pain and obvious humiliation to the males
lucky enough to be selected by a dominant woman.

We have also developed  other  procedures  affecting the physical qualities and
mental attitudes of the subject males.   Most of these are not yet available to
the general public.   For instance, the depilatory with a hair growth inhibitor
that you received is one of our newer developments.

Irene smiled,  "There is also a potion that I put in your food the first  night
that  can  cause  the  mistress  to  gain control of the sexual behavior of the
subject.   It is not fully  perfected  yet  and  only  sets  up the mind of the
subject to be receptive.   The mistress must use  commands,   discipline,   and
punishment  to fully imprint it in the mind of the subject.   Once established,
it should be permanent.   They  hope  to  eventually develop it so that control
will be immediate without the need to use physical feedback.  That is why I can
control your genital arousal and erections."

She also indicated that there were many other  developments,   some  perfected,
others they were still working on.  One they almost have completed is a hormone
that will stimulate breast development and the growth of feminine curves on the
male  body  without inhibiting the male potency.   Retention of male potency is
necessary so that male will always  be  a male,  albeit a dominated,  feminized
one.  Another is the ability of a developed male breast to lactate so that they
can breast-feed babies for their  mistresses.    "Another  development  is  the
ability  to increase the physical strength and agility of we women.   I believe
you may have noticed its effectiveness when  you tried to attack me," she added
unnecessarily, with a sort of gloating smile.

"These are only a few examples of the advances we have made or are working  on.
I  am  sure  that  if you are accepted as a permanent slave to me,  you will be
exposed to many more  of  our  developments  to  make the superior woman's life
easier.   If certain of these techniques cause the male to be more aware of his
subjugation and dependence on the superior woman, so much the better."

I listened with amazement.   A whole  secret  feminist  organization  that  was
dedicated to subjugating and training male slaves had been going on,  under our
very noses,  so to speak,  for over a hundred years without anyone ever knowing
about it.

After digesting this story,  my mind was whirling with questions.   "If you can
do all that, why don't you just give the selected male a complete sex change?"

Irene was amused at the question.   "No - we will make our males look feminine,
act feminine, and even think feminine.   But they must be constantly aware that
they are dominated and debased males, subject to the orders, desires, and whims
of their superior mistresses.   In no way will we allow our slaves to feel that
they are anywhere near our equal by giving them a sex change."

"Who  is  this  Mistress  Circe  you  keep  talking about?   If each chapter is
independent, how do they know about her?"

"The president of each chapter is  known  as  'Mistress Circe'.   It is more or
less an honorary title given to the woman who has trained the most males."

                          Chapter Nine

She then dismissed the subject.  "I've told you all you need to know, perhaps a
bit more than you should know at this time.   I just want you to  realize  that
once selected,  your future is sealed.   It is either servitude or death.   But
tonight, let's talk about other things."

During  this  discourse,   Irene had interrupted herself a few times to have me
procure us fresh drinks.  By know, they were beginning to have an effect on me.


To tell the truth,  I was  beginning  to have erotic feelings about Irene.   We
were still holding hands,  and I was fully aware that our  hands  were  resting
directly on my crotch.  My head was still resting on her shoulder.

She then leaned over and gave me a long lingering kiss.   While we were trading
lipstick, she slipped her tongue into my mouth and began searching for mine.

I  interrupted  her for a moment and asked,  "One more thing.   How do you know
that the 'selected male' can be trained to be obedient?"

"Gretchen,  our organization has over a hundred years of experience in training
and domesticating  males.    We  have  developed  to  a  fine  art  the  use of
discipline,  punishment, training, education, tenderness, love, and even sex to
accomplish our objectives.  If you are finally selected for servitude, you will
see how effective our methods are.   It is true that some may take a bit longer
than others.  But they all learn to be obedient and to love it."

She looked at me with a smile  and  asked,   "Would  you  rather  continue  the
conversation or do this?" She again leaned over and kissed me, tonguing me.

At  that  moment,   all thoughts of Circe and its implications disappeared in a
wave of erotic feeling.    The  simile  of  the  black  widow spider again went
through my mind.  I guess I subconsciously realized that this was another phase
in gaining domination over me,   making  it  attractive  enough  that  I  would
willingly  obey  her  commands.   But I dismissed the thought.   Tonight,  in a
rising tide of emotion, anything was worth continuing my lovemaking with Irene.


By now, Irene was delicately fumbling at my crotch through my gown, while I did
the same thing in fondling  her  breasts.    "I'll  be happy when you have real
breasts that I can fondle too," she whispered huskily.

Our kissing grew more intense.   My fumbling fingers had no trouble in  finding
an opening in her gown, and I was soon fondling her bared breast.  On the other
hand, Irene experienced a bit of difficulty in reaching up under my long skirt.
However,   she  took  advantage of the side slit and I could feel the hem of my
gown being gradually pulled up over my knees.   Then,  her fingers began moving
up the inside of my thigh,  pausing a  moment to play with the top of my nylons
and gently snapping the garters before finding my lace panties.

I could feel my gorge rising as I began pulling up her gown in the same  manner
as she did mine.  She suddenly pulled away from our kissing and whispered in my
ear, "I have not yet given you permission to have an erection."

Somehow,   it  worked  - again.   I could feel myself subsiding.   There was no
lessening of my sensitivity or passion.   I could still feel her fingers gently
manipulating me through the smooth nylon of  my panties,  and they felt just as
good and exciting as before, but now there was no sign of an erection.

Meanwhile,  my loss of an erection in no way slowed down my  fumbling  fingers,
and  in no time I had her dress hiked up over her knees,  my hands beginning to
explore the soft flesh of her upper thighs.   I reciprocated to her a little by
playing with her garters and  nylons.    I  only  dawdled a moment in this area
before winding my way up her upper thigh until I found the spot  where  it  met
her  opposite  member.    There,   my fingers encountered a moist,  hairy spot.
Either she was not wearing  panties  or  she was wearing those fancy crotchless
devices.  In either event, I fumbled about the soft flesh until I could find an
opening and immediately, but gently, inserted an exploring finger.

She arched her back and squeezed her thighs together, trapping my hand while my
finger continued its slow and gentle exploration of the warmth and dampness  of
the crevasses it encountered.

Suddenly,   and  without a bit of warning,  her hand moved from my genitals and
grabbed the hair of my head.   Another surge and I was kneeling on the floor in
front of her, my mouth where my hand had been only a few seconds before, and my
tongue replaced my finger.

Now,  if you think that bothered me,   think again.   At that moment,  the most
important thing in my life was  to  get  her  to  come  and  a  result  of  the
ministrations of my lips and tongue.

I succeeded and she came,  fully and copiously,  into my mouth.   For a moment,
she was lost in a sea of satiated emotion.  Almost immediately the fog cleared.
She came back to reality and wanted more.

She pulled my head back and looked at me,  eyeball to eyeball,  finally saying,
"Why don't we get out of these damn clothes.  Maybe, just maybe, I'll allow you
to-".    I  didn't  need  a second invitation,  and we traipsed to her bedroom,
dropping clothes as we went.

We arrived at her bedroom,   still  shucking  excess clothing.   She stopped me
before I could divest myself of my bra, garter belt, and my nylons.  Meanwhile,
she stropped down to the buff.

I started to pile onto the bed,  intending to continue where we left off.   She
stopped me,  saying,  "You must learn that even in your moments of ecstasy, you
are still under the control and domination of your mistress.   To reinforce the
concept of superiority,  you must be in bondage during any  sexual  union  with
your mistress.  Before we continue any further, I must restrain you."

I  was so eager to get on with our lovemaking that I gladly put my hands behind
my back so that she could manacle them.

We piled onto the bed.   Irene placed me onto my back, straddling me, her knees
on either side of my head so that  she was looking straight down at my cock and
I was looking straight up into her vagina.   She immediately  lowered  herself,
and my tongue took on where it had left only a few moments ago.

She  lowered  her  head  and  began licking and nuzzling my cock.   We had only
engaged in this mutual licking a few  moments when she said,  "Oh,  by the way,
you may have an erection now, but no orgasm until I give you permission."

That turned on the switch for me.   I  immediately  felt  myself  beginning  to
respond  and within a few seconds I was rock hard,  enjoying the sensation of a
warm mouth encircling my prick with an occasional tongue licking at its tip and
digging at the tiny opening.

Meanwhile,  my tongue and lips  were  working  overtime  and I could feel Irene
wiggle and squirm in response to my ministrations.   We did that for a year  or
so, both of us reaching our pinnacle of eroticism.

Then she suddenly pulled away from me,  reversed herself, and took my throbbing
erection into the warm,  moist depths of her vagina.   Once she had engulfed me
so  that  we  were  belly-to-belly,   she clamped down on me,  closing her legs
tightly together, forcing me to spread my nylon-clad legs to accommodate her.

We pulsed that way for a  century.    Wave after wave of excitement ran through
me.   Starting right behind my ears,  it would go down my spine, to be followed
immediately by another one.

Irene must have been having sensations of her own,   as  she  would  throb  and
quiver,  repressed gasps occasionally escaping from between her clenched teeth.


Suddenly, her movements quickened, her gasps grew more shallow and rapid.  When
it seemed that she could move no faster,  she burst out,  audibly,  "Come, damn
it!  Now!  Now!"

I  was  ready,   more  than ready,  and could feel my juices boil up inside me.
Suddenly,  I climaxed,  came, ejaculated, had an orgasm, call it what you will,
but I exploded my seed deep inside her,  and she took it, straining against me.
I quivered, she shivered in our mutual orgasm.

Clumsily,  but adequately, I clasped my legs together behind her waist, pulling
her to me.  Meanwhile, she pressed against me, making sure that every bit of me
was within her.

We froze in that tableau,  expending the last dregs of our aroused emotion in a
brief stage of frozen bliss.

We then relaxed, I released my legs, freeing Irene.  She made no effort to pull
away but kept squeezing  the  lips  of  her  vagina  on my rapidly spent penis,
trying to extract every bit of my come.

Finally,  no longer able to hold my wilting penis with the lips of  her  labia,
she  rolled  off of me and we lay side by side for a few moments,  reliving our
recent experience.

Suddenly, Irene roused up.  "Our little interlude is over.  We'll take a shower
together, but then it's time for beddy-bye for you in your own little bed."

We took our shower.   Miss  Irene  replaced  the chastity irons she had removed
during our bath.

"Why do you have to put those things on me?" I asked.   "You have me locked  up
in that bed so that I couldn't get out even if I wanted to."

"Why, that's to prevent you from playing with yourself while you are alone."

"Holy gee!   After the session we just went through,  I don't think I'll bother
myself tonight."

"That may be so, but I don't want to get out of the habit of restraining you at
night.   That way I KNOW you won't bother yourself.   Besides, I want you to to
be helpless and dependent on me to even allow you the use of your hands."

She  then locked me in my crib and started to leave me.   "How come you lock me
in this thing at night?  What happens if I have to use the bathroom?"

"You'd just better learn to control it.  If I should happen to find your bed or
you messed up or wet,  then you would  have to wear a diaper and rubber panties
to bed .  Not only that, but it would be marked on on your record and you would
be required to take potty training during your indoctrination."

Without another word,  she left me with  only  sweet  memories  of  our  little
interlude and an uneasy feeling about having to wear diapers at night.

However,   in  spite  of all of the negative aspects of my servitude,  it would
almost be acceptable if only I  was  allowed an occasional evening such as this
one.

                           Chapter Ten

The next morning,  my captress came and released me from  my  bed.    "Just  to
remind  you  that,   despite  last  night's  'relaxation',  nothing has changed
regarding our status.   You are still  subject  to my orders and desires.   You
will continue to address me as 'Miss Irene'.  We will be having guests tonight.
You will address them as 'Mistress' along with their title or name.  Just don't
forget.  Your memory may be a life or death matter to you."

She then handed me a jar.   "Here is some depilatory.   Put it on, wait fifteen
minutes,  and then shower.   Just make  sure  that  your  body  is  smooth  and
absolutely hairless when you finish."

I rubbed my hand along my face.  "I don't think I need that stuff yet.  My face
still  feels  smooth and I don't see any sign of hair on my body." It was true.
Normally, I shaved every day to avoid any sign of stubble.  However, after well
over two days, I could still see no sign of even a fuzz on my face.

"No one gave you permission to think!" she replied haughtily."You must learn to
obey me without question, Gretchen." Then, in a softer tone, "You may be right,
but I see no reason to take any chances.   If they should find the least little
trace of hair on your face or body,  you will fail and that will be that.   You
will be as good as dead.  What's worse, I would receive demerits for not making
sure that you were presentable."

Somehow the thought of Miss Irene  receiving demerits didn't upset me nearly as
much as the thought that if I didn't pass,  I would be dead.   You can be  sure
that I applied the cream liberally.

After waiting the prescribed length of time, then showering and rinsing off the
cream,   I  carefully  examined my face and body.   There was no sign of even a
single follicle of hair and my face felt as smooth as a baby's bare bottom.

Grabbing a silky shorty robe which barely covered my thighs, I reported to Miss
Irene.  She had laid out the maid's outfit that I had worn the first day.  "You
have cleaned the house and done the laundry.  Today you are going to cook."

"Mistress Circe and two of her  companions,  Mistresses Cato and Olga,  will be
the guests, as well as myself, of course.  After you have prepared the meal and
finished up with all of  the  preliminaries,   you  will  change  into  a  more
appropriate outfit to serve us."

"The  menu  tonight  will start off with caviar as an appetizer.   A clear beef
broth,  seasoned with special spices,  will  be next.   The main course will be
lobster cooked in  an  oyster  sauce  and  quail  marinated  in  ginger.    The
vegetables will be stuffed baked potatoes and artichoke hearts in a heavy cream
sauce."

"For  dessert,   you  will prepare a few pies with various fillings so that our
guests may have a selection.    You  will  serve them beverages of their choice
during the meal,  and of course you will serve cocktails before and  after  the
meal."

"Miss  Irene,"  I  responded  after  listening  to  the  exotic menu that I was
expected to prepare,  "I did a spell  as  a short-order cook but there's no way
that I'll be able to cook all the stuff you mentioned."

"Gretchen!  This is part of your test!  There are all sorts of cookbooks in the
kitchen and they have detailed instructions on how to prepare those dishes."

"Hurry and get yourself dressed and apply your makeup.   Then you can get  into
the  kitchen  and  have  all  day to familiarize yourself on how to prepare the
menu."

"But..."

"There are no 'buts'.   If you think  you can get away with serving these women
hot dogs, you are dreadfully wrong - and may as well be dead."

With that she turned on her heel and walked off.   I carefully dressed, applied
my makeup,  and brushed out my wig after I had put it on.   I said 'carefully',
and meant it.   I didn't want to flunk a surprise inspection by Miss Irene.   I
did that a few times in the last couple of days and  received  some  unpleasant
jolts.   Miss Irene often carries a cattle prod and is not hesitant about using
it  if  she  deems  that  I  am  not  properly  attired or following her orders
implicitly.

I went into the kitchen with a  sinking  heart.   There was no way that I could
properly prepare the items on that menu.

I was wrong!   Among the cookbooks there was a sheaf  of  mimeographed  papers.
These  papers listed the exact menu and gave explicit and readable instructions
on how to prepare each and every dish.

By following the directions,  and if I didn't try to hurry too much or panic, I
could prepare a passable meal.    Fortunately  to add to my serendipity,  there
were extra ingredients in case I did mess something up.

It was by no means as difficult as I had previously imagined.  In fact, after a
while,  I began enjoying myself,  sampling and tasting the  dishes  in  various
stages of completion.

Later  in  the  afternoon,   Miss  Irene came into the kitchen for the umptyith
inspection.  I proudly informed her that the meal was well in hand and would be
ready to serve by seven P.M.    Everything  would  be done,  needing only a few
minutes of final preparation to get it ready to be served.

I was then directed to go up and prepare myself  to  be  properly  dressed  and
presentable.   For this occasion,  I was allowed to use her commodious bath and
luxuriated  as long as I could in the warm,  bubbly,  perfumed bath.   Finally,
reluctant in having to leave it, I dried myself with a big fluffy towel.

I was then instructed to redo my nails.  This time, I put on false nails, which
were long and glamorous.   The color,   this time,  was a deep and unmistakable
red.

Miss Irene gave me a little device that at first looked like the bottom half of
a bikini bathing suit,  except that the material seemed to be a kind of stretch
elastic.   When I pulled it on and got it properly placed,  Miss Irene  reached
inside  and  pushed  my  penis  back  between my legs.   I suddenly had no more
genitals - visible,  anyway.   That little flesh-colored device forced my balls
back up into my crotch and held my penis back between my legs so that there was
not a visible sign of any masculine bulge.

I next put on a pair  of  wispy  black  nylon bikini panties and matching black
lace bra which held my inserts in a completely natural manner.   There was also
a sheer black minislip with a scalloped lace hem that almost covered my hips.

Before I put on my outer clothes,  Miss Irene insisted that I apply my  makeup.
Instead of letting me do it and coming to her later for inspection,  she stayed
there and supervised the actual application.

The basic pancake was bit heavier, the eye shadow a bit deeper.   The eye liner
and eyebrows were a bit darker and more emphasized.

She  gave  me some kind of stuff to apply with the mascara which lengthened and
accented my lashes and made my eyes look deeper and wider.

The cheek color was  more  pronounced  and  lipstick  was a bright red,  almost
garish.   It was the same shade as my nails.   Miss Irene explained that  under
the dim,  artificial light,  the makeup must be heavier and more defined.   She
finally  concluded,   "If  you pass and are accepted for training,  you will be
taught the proper type of makeup for  every situation and type of lighting,  be
it natural or artificial."

Now,  time was getting short I soon would be judged.   I was beginning to get a
bit nervous, especially when my captress kept saying 'if'.

In fact it began bothering me so much that I got up enough courage to ask,  "Do
you think I'll pass, Miss Irene?"

"Oh,  yes,  Gretchen.   The investigators study a  subject  rather  intensively
before they are finally selected.   Really,  I've been told that there are very
few  not  accepted  for training,  once they have been inducted for preliminary
review as you have been."

That made me feel a bit better, but I still had butterflies in my stomach.

Miss Irene would allow no more  discussion.    She handed me the outfit I would
wear for the evening.   Handed was a good word.  It was a maid's outfit, skimpy
enough so that you could hold the whole thing in one hand.

The basic outfit was black.   The skimpy skirt was stiffened so  that  although
the  hem  should have been halfway between the hips and knees,  it was actually
much higher due to the wide flare.   The top wasn't much more decorous.  It had
a deep plunging neckline,   stopping  barely  in  time  to maintain my image of
having real breasts.  The sleeves were short, puffed out, and capped.

I was given a pair of black fishnet panty hose.  The weave about the ankles was
rather close and tight.  However, it opened up as it went up my leg, so that by
the time it was up to my thighs the weave was almost an inch square and  showed
a considerable expanse of white flesh.   My feet were forced in a pair of black
high- heeled pumps with at least a four-inch heel, taper down to a sharp point.


There was a white organdy apron, tied in the back with a big puffy bow.   About
all  it did was to accent the brevity and flare of my skirt.   There was also a
little white organdy hairpiece perched jauntily  on top of my perfectly coiffed
head.

Miss Irene also had me wear a gold choker necklace with a large brooch  like  a
decoration  that  the throat which only served to show off the expanse of flesh
bared by the deep neckline.  A pair of pierced earrings that matched the brooch
dangled from my ears.

Miss Irene carefully inspected her maid as a finished product.   Satisfied with
what she saw,  she stated that I  was  as  ready  as I would ever be to meet my
judges and possible executioners.

                         Chapter Eleven

I barely had time to get into the kitchen  and  begin  making  the  last-minute
preparations when the doorbell chimed.

"That  must  be Mistress Circe and her companions",  called Miss Irene from the
bedroom.  "Let them in and serve some refreshments.  I'll be out in a minute."

With a great deal of trepidation  and  reluctance,   I  went to the door and to
greet my judge and potential executioners.   As I approached it,  I  heard  the
lock  click.    Miss Irene had switched off the electronic bolt,  releasing the
door lock.  I opened the door and looked at a lovely pair of boobs!

Now,  I'm five feet eight with four inch heels,  probably nearing six feet, but
as my eyes traveled up to the face of the imposing woman facing me, I felt like
a size petite.

The woman towered over me by a good  six or seven inches.   Of course,  she was
wearing heels too,  but still, I'd guess her normal height to be over six feet.
She had a body like a goddess and had long golden hair that hung down her back,
almost to her waist.   Her skin was clear and  fair,   her  nose  straight  and
aquiline.   The lips were full and kissable.   However,  all her other features
and attributes paled into insignificance when I looked into her eyes.

They  were  green,   as beautiful and hard as emeralds,  no pity or softness in
them.   She stared down at me, looking down into the depths of my being, seeing
the fear and apprehension that welled up  inside me.   It was almost a physical
effort to keep from falling to me knees and kissing her feet.   However,  I did
bow my head in an attitude of submission.

Recovering my composure a bit,  I raised my head, not enough to look her in the
face again,  but to note her two companions.   They were quite distinguished in
their own right with their imperious,  regal bearing.   One had dark  hair  and
rather  exotic features,  who I took to be Mistress Cato.   The other,  who was
blonde,  I assumed was Mistress Olga.   They were not quite as tall as Mistress
Circe, but still required me to look up to see their faces.

I stepped aside to let them enter,  but they made no immediate motion to do so.
They just stood there, eyeing me.  Discomfited, I could only stare at the floor
and await their pleasure.

Finally, Mistress Circe said, "Turn around, slowly."

Then she added contemptuously,  "You must  be the worm that Irene thinks worthy
enough to serve us,  and after we properly prepare you,  emulate us in  manners
and appearance.  Well, we shall see."

As she was talking, I was slowly turning about.   "Keep your knees straight and
touch the floor with the tips of your fingers."

Because  the  high-heeled  shoes  raised me higher than normal,  I had a bit of
difficulty in reaching the floor,   but  after stretching a few times,  finally
made it.   As I did so,  I felt my abbreviated skirt and slip being pulled back
and my panties being pulled down.  Suddenly, two welts of fire were laid across
my buttocks.  My panties and skirt were replaced and I was ordered to stand and
turn around, keeping my head bowed.  Needless to say, I obeyed.

"You do not raise your eyes to your mistresses unless ordered.  Didn't Mistress
Irene instruct you about that?"

"Yes, Mistress Circe, but I forgot.   When I opened the door I was so surprised
to see  such  a  majestic  and  beautiful  woman  that  I  was  awe-struck  and
momentarily forgot my manners."

"I'll  bet you do a better job remembering next time," answered Mistress Circe.
I think she kind of smiled  but  I  didn't  dare  look.   I did hear titters of
amusement from the other two women who were witnessing my humiliation.

About that time Miss Irene came up.   "Why,  Mistress Circe and Mistresses Cato
and Olga, it's lovely seeing you again.  I see that you've met Gretchen."

"Yes, and I didn't even get inside the door before I had to punish her.  Didn't
you teach her to be respectful and deferential to her superiors?   She had  the
gall to stare at me.   After the lesson I just gave her, I don't think she will
do it again for a while."

I started to protest that I really wasn't disrespectful,  but astonished at her
beauty and majesty.  However, I bit my tongue and remained silent.

"I guess I have been a bit lenient with her.   I'll just step up the voltage on
my cattle prod and inflict a bit more discipline for even making indications of
disrespect."

"That is,  if she is still alive after tonight," Mistress Circe said ominously,
glaring daggers at me, which I was aware of even with a bowed head.

Miss Irene then turned to me.   "Gretchen,  you did not start off by making any
points.    For your sake,  I hope you do better during the rest of the evening.
You may ask  our  guests  if  they  would  lime  some refreshments,  cocktails,
perhaps."

"Mistress Circe," I croaked.   My mouth had become dry in my  anxiety  and  the
pain from the sudden spanking.  I audibly cleared my throat and again asked the
women what they would like.   They gave me their orders, and as luck would have
it, they each wanted a different drink.

Hoping that I could remember and prepare the different drinks, I traipsed a bit
clumsily  toward the kitchen.   Those heels came down to a sharp point and were
higher than any I had worn  previously.   Besides,  my buns were still tingling
and I didn't dare rub them in their presence.

As I left,  I heard one of the women comment about my momentary stumble.   "She
should be able to walk a bit better,  and she should also be taught  to  really
sway  her  ass a bit more provocatively." All I could think of was that another
black mark had been chalked up against me.

Well,  I got the drinks mixed.    Here  again  it was easier than I had feared.
There was a book of recipes for mixed drinks lying on the sink and all  of  the
ingredients were easily found.

I  served them,  if not gracefully and practiced,  at least not spilling any on
the guests,  although I did slosh a  bit on the tray.   Here again,  I received
negative comments on my serving abilities.

I guess they enjoyed making rude comments about my lack of experience because I
prepared and served each of the women three or four drinks apiece and  received
snide comments each time.   Between serving the drinks, I was required to stand
demurely  by  the  kitchen  door,   ready to serve if any of the women required
anything.

They were sitting about,   talking  in  low  voices.    Although I kept my head
deferentially bowed,  I could see that occasionally one of them would  look  my
way  and  then make a comment.   Once in a while,  one of them would get up and
circle about me, inspecting me quite intently.

During one of these inspections,  Mistress Cato approached, lifted my skirt and
felt my crotch.   I heard her remark to  Miss Irene,  "I see where you have her
genitals tucked safely away."

I heard Miss Irene answer,  "Yes,  she's pretty well  trained  not  to  get  an
erection without permission.   But with her wearing the revealing,  abbreviated
outfit,  you sexy looking women about and the briefness of her training, I just
didn't want to take any chances of her showing any unsightly bulge."

About  that  time,   dinner  was ready,  and I announced it.   The women seated
themselves at the table.   I noticed that Mistress Olga made a quick inspection
of the table and audibly,  so I  could  hear,   pointed out a few errors in the
silverware layout.

Well,  I'm no great chef,  but the meal must have been at least adequate.    At
least,   everyone was eating everything in sight,  at the same time complaining
vociferously about how poorly the meal had been prepared and served.

They finally finished the meal and  I  was about to serve dessert when Mistress
Circe said,  "We had to suffer through warm drinks and a cold meal prepared and
served by that abject failure of a maid.   While we have our dessert,  she will
crawl under the table and try to do with her tongue what she could not  do  her
hands."

Obviously,  I had failed their test.   If I understood Mistress Circe right, my
only  hope  was  to  try and satisfy then sexually while they were having their
dessert.   After I served the dessert,  Mistress Cato grabbed me by the back of
my neck and forced me down on all fours under the table.

I knew what was expected  of  me,   and  apparently  it  was my last chance for
survival.   I crawled over to Mistress Circe.  She had pulled her dress up over
her knees and spread her legs.   I stuck my head between them and worked my way
up to her crotch,  kissing and licking her upper thighs as I went.   I  finally
reached her crotch.  Whether by incident or design, she was wearing no panties,
so I had no difficulty in finding her damp little love nest.  Did I say little?
It  may  have  been little in comparison to her size,  but it was almost like a
cavern.   My tongue could never hope to penetrate its depths,  although I tried
with every bit of fervor I could generate.   As far as I knew, my life depended
upon satisfying these women.

Although I couldn't reach fully into  the  depths,   I did find a few sensitive
spots and was rewarded by convulsive hip gyrations during my ministrations.   I
kept at it for what seemed like an eternity.  I just had to satisfy this woman.
Finally,  she went rigid and her legs clamped around my head.   I thought I was
in a vise.  This woman was unbelievably strong!  Luckily, she only clamped down
a few moments and then relaxed.  I don't know if my head could have lasted much
longer.

She reached down with her hand and pushed me from her  crotch.    At  the  same
time,   I  could  feel another hand grab me and pull me between another pair of
legs.   I repeated the process.   This woman  did not have the size or power of
Mistress Circe,  but she was quite impressive in her own way.   As my head  was
being  directed  to  where  the  eager  woman was waiting in anticipation of my
arrival,  I recognized her to be Mistress Cato.   She had long,  tapering legs,
and once I positioned myself,  she locked  them about my head,  forcing my head
and tongue to just where she wanted them to be.  I knew what was expected of me
and did my best,  and was  eventually  rewarded  by  her  reaching  orgasm  and
unleashing  a  flood,  which I swallowed.   She then relaxed her legs,  but she
would not release my head until  I  had  licked all the dampness from about her
vagina.

Then it was time for Mistress Olga.   She was different again  from  Mistresses
Circe  and Cato.   Although her legs were as muscular and toned as my other two
mistresses,  they seemed much softer and more delicate.   Instead of forcing my
head into her love box,  she sort of  guided me,  and all during my licking and
tonguing, she moved my head about to where she wanted stimulation, which I gave
to the best of my ability.   Finally satisfying herself with  my  tongue,   she
released me.

I  wasn't sure if Mistress Irene wanted my servicing at that time,  but just to
take no chances,  I approached her.   She definitely did want my services and I
gladly obliged.   Now,  although the other women had their good points, when my
face snuggled into Mistress Irene's  snatch,   it  felt like I was coming home.
Since I had tongued her previously,  I had a pretty good idea as to how to turn
her on.   I used my knowledge of her sensitive areas to  bring  her  to  orgasm
quite quickly, as my tongue was beginning to tire.

After  I  had  serviced all four women,  I climbed out from under the table and
rose to my feet, head bowed, awaiting a decision.

"My goodness," exclaimed Mistress Olga.   "Look at her makeup.  You would think
that a maid who valued her existence would maintain a better appearance."

"She sure is a clumsy maid," added Mistress Cato.  "All during the time she was
under the table trying to  please  us,   the  only  thing  I could hear was her
shuffling about.  I don't know about her gracefulness."

Mistress Circe said nothing,  but I could see from under my downcast eyes  that
she was eyeing me quizzically, a faint smile of derision on her face.

"All right,  Gretchen," Mistress Irene ordered.   "We are going into the den to
discuss your fate.  You will bring us drinks and wait while we deliberate."

I  brought and served the women drinks and was then forced to stand outside the
den while they discussed my future.

There was no doubt in my mind  that  I  had failed and that my doom was sealed.
Desperately I cast about for some way out.   Then I remembered!  Miss Irene had
released the electronic bolts for the door when the women entered,  and she had
never reset them.  The door was not locked!

                         Chapter Twelve

The women were all busy with their discussion.  No one was paying any attention
to me.  I went over to the door and pushed.  It swung open.  Slipping out of my
high-heeled shoes, I took off, hearing startled gasps as I ran out the door.

I hadn't gone ten feet when I realized that I wasn't going far with  no  shoes.
Fortunately,   the car in which they had arrived was sitting there.   Even more
fortunately, the keys were sitting in plain sight on the dashboard.

I jammed the key in the ignition.   Damn!  It didn't work.  Trunk key, I guess.
I jammed the other key in the ignition, and it didn't work either.

Meanwhile,  the women were  sauntering  out,   in  no  particular hurry as they
approached the car where I was frantically fooling with the keys.

Mistress Olga casually opened the door on the passenger side,   slid  in,   and
dangled a set of keys from an upraised finger.  "I think these are the ones you
want," she said with a sarcastic smile.  "Those others are just dummies - for a
dummy."

I knew I was whipped,  had been set up.   I slumped over the steering wheel and
began  making  dry,  wracking sobs.   I could see death staring me in the face.
Surely there weren't going to let me live after an attempted escape!

Meanwhile,  one of the other women, I don't know which, opened the car door and
dragged me out.   My hands were manacled  behind me and I was marched back into
the house.   As we entered,  I heard the door slam  and  the  lock  click  with
dreadful finality.

I was back where I started,  only now I was in a much more precarious position.
I stared defiantly at Mistress Circe's face.   Looking her directly in the eye,
I said, "OK, you've got me.  Go ahead and kill me."

She looked at me and smiled.  "Your name is James Carrion, is it not?"

I  looked at her in amazement.   "Yeah - how did you know my name?   I tried to
give it to Miss Irene when she first captured me, and all she said was that she
didn't give a damn about my old name or past."

"We know a lot about you.   No brothers or sisters.   Attended State University
for two years.   Quit after your  parents were killed in a storm.   Apparently,
you lost some incentive to live after their death.    Since  then  you've  been
working  all  around  the  country  at  various odd jobs.   No close friends or
relatives.   Height about five foot nine,  weight about one hundred thirty-five
pounds."

"Yeah,  but how did you know that I'd come to this house?   If that dame hadn't
taken me down that deserted country road and robbed me, I would never have come
to this place."

"That 'dame' was a member of our organization.  She took you down that road and
left you.  There was only one way for you to go, and this is the only house for
miles around.   The rain was a  fortunate  accident.   We Sisters of Circe have
many doctors and scientists among our members and have contributed many new and
innovative inventions and procedures,  but weather control is not one of them -
yet."

"Well, OK - so when are you going to kill me?" I finally said wearily.

"Kill you? Why should we kill you?"

 "I flunked the test. I tried to escape."

"Gretchen,  please understand that your testing began  the  moment  you  walked
through  that  door.    Before  that,  in fact,  since we went through a rather
detailed investigation to determine if you were a likely candidate."

"Irene has stated that except for one or two minor exceptions, you were quite a
docile and cooperative subject.   You were  even beginning to be quite proud of
your feminine appearance."

"We led you to believe that you had failed and would  be  executed.    We  then
offered  you  an  opportunity to escape.   By your being alert enough to try to
take advantage of the situation, you showed considerable ingenuity.  We believe
that you will be an excellent candidate  to be Irene's personal maid after your
training."

"Well, what happens now?"

"You will be given at least  thirty  days  intensive  training  at  our  secret
'College  of  Feminine Improvement' under the direction of Irene.   She will be
assisted by Mistresses Cato and Olga  and other specialists in various areas of
feminine grooming,  cooking,  sewing, and other specialties in order for you to
efficiently serve your mistress."

"This training will consist of learning implicit obedience and the  proper  way
to  address  your  mistresses  and superiors.   It will also include lessons on
makeup,  skin care, hair arrangement, and grooming.   You will be taught how to
present a proper feminine appearance and adopt feminine mannerisms so that they
will become your natural behavior while serving her or passing in public if she
wishes you to accompany her."

"You will be one of the  first  males  to  undergo our new hormone treatment to
permit you to grow natural breasts and more feminine curves.   Since Miss Irene
has indicated that she occasionally enjoys sex relations with her subject,   we
will make sure that your male potency is retained."

"Also,   during  this  time,   you will be shown the advantages and benefits of
cooperation and obedience,  as well  as  the discipline and punishment reserved
for recalcritant slaves.   After that you will become Irene's personal maid and
companion."

"Yes, Mistress Circe."

"One other thing, Gretchen.  Who gave you permission to stare at me?"

I immediately lowered my head in an attitude of submission,  at the  same  time
anticipating and dreading an unexpected future.

I must say that the thought of another lovemaking session with Miss Irene would
be worth anything these women could throw at me.  To cap it all off, I'd get to
wear pretty, frilly feminine clothing, even in public.

I was interrupted by Miss Irene saying,  "Come on,  Gretchen,  we have to leave
here  now.    There  is  another prospective candidate scheduled to arrive here
tomorrow night.  My best friend Lisa is going to greet him."

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