Petticoated Polly: In Sissy Servitude

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With one hand continuing to caress my breasts, Carolyn reached around and took the discarded panties from the vanity, and, placing them over my throbbing shaft, began to stroke me. Miss Presswell laughed and played with the blond ringlets at Andrew's temple. "Yes, you look more like a girl than a boy, Andrew. This is Jason and he has something he wants to ask you."

I just read with great delight your story in the Wendyhouse: "Zipped" with art by Satyn! Yes, a tight girdle or a corselette is a wonderful undergarment to wear, something I started when quite young, slipping on my mother's open bottom girdles or all-in-ones by Playtex - of course I also loved her silky Nylon slips - oddly enough, I never got to her panties about which she was very private. This one will do to begin with," continued Miss Presswell as Jason tensed his arms in the grip of Serena. "Now, we just need... there we are." Aaaah!" cooed all the women. "He doesn't want his friends to know." "Isn't he sweet." "He's nearly crying, look." It is no wonder at all that you become very sweet and very dainty while dressed as a sissy, Princess. That will be the effect of such fabulously pretty clothes on you. Can't you just feel the softness of the dress materials spreading effeminacy into every inch of your smooth skin and through every ounce of your delicate flesh. Can there be any doubt that when you wear a sissy little girl's dress, you actually turn into a girl. You look like one, you feel like one and you act like one. Miss Presswell turned to look at her sissy. He had changed his words, but she could see from the flush on his cheeks that they had sprung from the heart, and waited to see how he performed. She pulled the sissy's hands away from his face and held them for Jason to take in his satin gloved fingers.Jason himself was having to fight against a wish to push his satin-covered penis head onto Andrew's, so urgently he wanted to increase the pleasure that was aching in his panties. He was startled by the words of Miss Presswell into his ear. A second petticoat fell over Jason as his breath turned into shivers of horror. What on earth was she going to tell her? Well, Sophie dear, I don't hold it against you, of course, for stepping out of the Wendyhouse for a while. I can only commend you on deciding that you stand to become a better (that is, a more pathetic and more effeminate) sissy on the inside. Hello, Jason," he heard, and two women parted to allow the speaker to step through. "I - didn't know you were a sissy." Yes, that's much better, sweetheart,” answered Carolyn, a knowing smile crossing her lips. “Sit here and I'll start your bath water,” she said, turning and entering the adjacent bathroom.

Still facing away from the mirror, I sat quietly while Carolyn brushed and curled what had been longish hair for a boy. After looking through a small drawer in the dresser, Aunt Mary approached with two matching satin ribbons, the exact color of the dress. After tying each into a pretty bow on either side of my head, both women smiled. Still beaming, they pulled me to my feet. “Don't look yet, Chrissy,” instructed Aunt Mary, “let's slip your lovely dress on first.” Oh isn't that sweet," he heard as their faces parted. "Don't they look lovely together, exchanging delicate kisses?"

The weekend was a huge success mainly due to my mothers training of Michelle which she says was a regime of punishment and reward with the judicial use of the strap on. She has encouraged me to continue with the same training which I find most enjoyable; Michelle has in turn accepted fully her role in life and is a very attentive maid. My mother and I now share the benefits of Michelle for domestic support with all that that entails. Alicia Presswell took a deep breath. "Well I suppose my next step in sending out your photos will depend entirely on you, Jason," she said; "on your perfect behaviour." Don't you just adore this wonderful petticoat, honey?” Aunt Mary asked, giving the skirt a shake. An almost imperceptible moan escaped from my lips, as the loud frou-frou and the silken touch of the lace brushing my nylon-sheathed thighs seemed to envelope me in a kind of soft cloud.