"Oh, Helen!" I murmured, my eyes swimming with languorous yet heated longings. I was pricked by desires I knew I could not act on. A world of these fantasies were expressed in my sigh. Helen smiled. It was her policy and wish to keep me, tonight of all nights, stimulated by passionate yearnings. She even provoked and increased my desire as she caressed my legs, sliding her hands up over the smooth shining stockings under my dress, feeling all the way up to my knees and garters.
"Are your garters of white satin dear, with big bows and buckles?" she asked.
"Yes, Helen," I answered blushing.
"You are very happy tonight, Denise, aren't you?"
"Oh yes, Helen."
Phoebe carried me downstairs to the drawing room and placed me on a sofa, propping up my back with cushions and drawing down my dress so as to cover my ankles.
"Now lie like that! Don't put your feet to the ground, Miss. Denise," she said.
"I won't, Phoebe."
I was left alone, and in a few minutes Violet came in looking very pretty in a white gown of Ninon de soie. She leaned over the sofa and looked down at me. A hungry smile and a blush came upon her face. She teased me by running her gloved hand over my satin slippers.
"Do you know, Denise, that I am falling love with you? Not because you are a boy of course, but because you are a girl. I am in love with you only as girls can love one another." After this strange utterance, which excited and flattered me, she cried, "Oh, you have got your hands and feet tied! How delicious! I must look." She turned back my frock, and asked me why. I explained.
"I wonder what Miss. Priscilla is going to do to you tonight," she said slowly. "I am jealous of her."
She bent her head down and kissed my lips long and ardently, letting her tongue play over my hungry lips and even coaxing my tongue to lace with hers. Then she drew a breath of pleasure and smiled.
"Violet, that was lovely," I said breathlessly.
She bent down again passionately, lifted my bound feet and I felt her warm lips pressed upon my insteps. Oh! A delicious spasm of emotion shook me. How my passions were ignited! Suddenly, Miss. Priscilla, dressed in a high-necked black silk robe and flat square-toed shoes, joined us. Netta announced dinner. Phoebe carried me in and placed me in a chair and freed my hands. A clean white satin footstool was placed under my bound feet and we dined. How I enjoyed that dinner. Violet was on one side of me, and her kiss seemed to still burn and tingle on my lips and insteps. At times she dropped her napkin, and as she stooped down to pick it up, she would give an affectionate squeeze to my slippers or a sly caress to my legs. Even Miss. Priscilla's face looked pleasant. I was carried back to the drawing room where Violet and I were allowed a cigarette over our coffee. Miss. Priscilla rose.
"I shall send Phoebe to bring you to my boudoir in five minutes, Denise," she said. "I am just going to see that all is ready. Meanwhile put on your gloves and button them carefully. Perhaps Violet will help you."
"Of course I will," cried Violet. She kneeled by the sofa and, with caressing fingers, drew on my long delicate gloves and buttoned them up to my shoulders, smoothing them over my arms, so that not a wrinkle should show. Then she pressed my hands passionately.
"I should love to tie them together, just as your feet are tied, only ever so much tighter."
I blushed, and realized that I loved her and wanted to possess her.
"You may if you like," I said after staring at her hungrily for a long while.
"There's no time now. Someday when we are alone I will."
"But, Violet, you said you loved me," I remarked with a smile. She frowned in perplexity.
"I do Denise. Yet, do you know what I would really love? I would love to see you dressed just as you are now in that beautiful evening frock tied to a chair in Mrs. Pettigrew's dark room with those buckled satin slippers and slender ankles in the fetters, while the laundry girls feed you on bread and water."
My face grew scarlet.
"Oh, Violet, that would be dreadful," I cried, and yet the picture her words evoked fascinated me strangely! I felt my cock grow more lewdly inside its leather singlet, which I was again wearing. Oh, how I wanted Violet to torture me with her fetters. Oh, how I wanted her to torture me with her tongue.
Unfortunately, Phoebe came in for me then. Violet and I kissed one another good-night, and then Phoebe carried me up the stairs. Miss. Priscilla's boudoir was furnished in the Empire style with an elegance out of keeping with her puritanical appearance. A small fire was burning cheerfully, but to keep the room from growing too hot, the window was open, letting in the summer night.
"Untie Miss. Denise's ankles," said Miss. Priscilla at once.
I was placed standing in a blaze of light on a square of white kid between two great mirrors, so that I could see myself back and front. Miss. Priscilla drew up a chair and sat facing me, but a little to one side so as not to obscure from me my reflection in the mirrors. Phoebe went out of the room.
I was excited and a little frightened too. I looked at Miss. Priscilla timidly. She crossed one leg over the other, showing me her ugly flat shoes and lisle-thread stockings.
"Lift your dress, Denise! A hand on each side of your skirt! Lift it prettily above the ankles. That's right. Press your high heels tightly together and turn out your toes! That will do. Now watch your pretty reflection in the mirror, while I talk to you and, above all, never lose sight of the truth in the glass in front of you."
I blushed rosily and smiled, "Very well, Miss. Priscilla." I trained my eyes on my mysterious image.
"Now listen to me, Denise," she went on, "some day you will be allowed to lay aside your dainty frocks, but I think it's a great pity. Helen and I are determined, however, that we will not have a repetition of your outrageous conceited conduct. We will not tolerate your untidy ways or your disrespect."
"I am cured of that Miss. Priscilla," I said humbly, watching my feminine lips answer.
"Perhaps," she replied calmly, "but we mean to make certain of the cure. We want you to willingly submit to the rule and authority of women."
"Forever?" I asked in dismay, but my dismay was coloured with a passionate warming in my heart. I wanted to be under their authority forever.
"Always."
I hesitated.
"Miss. Priscilla!"
"Yes."
"It seems natural to me that I should be kept in subjection," I said timidly, "so long as I am wearing girls' corsets and long gloves, earrings, and pearl necklaces, while I am wearing decollete dresses, girls' frilled lingerie and pretty petticoats, girls' silk stockings, and satin slippers with high heels. I don't resent discipline at a lady's hands while I am dressed this way."
"That's better. You are improving, Denise."
"But when I go back to trousers, it would be so undignified to be under a woman's authority, especially a young woman like Helen."
"You can easily escape the indignity by remaining in your lovely costumes."
"I know," I said weakly. "But I must be a man. I must have a career."
Miss. Priscilla laughed, and her cruel snickers made me realize my own ridiculousness.
"Meanwhile, Denise, even in your satin slippers, you are not as obedient as you profess your willingness to be. You are looking straight at me instead of at your own reflection in the looking glass."
My eyes sought my image in the mirror.
"I am very sorry. I forgot,." I said humbly.
"That is no excuse, Denise," said Miss. Priscilla placidly. "Gather in your pretty frock, until it is stretched quite tight over your behind, and bend double."
She rose. Red with shame, I obeyed her.
"I can't whip you with a cane, Denise, for a cane would tear your fragile dress. But this will be quite as effective."