Fetish, bondage and fetish fashion stream from various resources

Now a little treat from our friend Ambre Caprise. I create a lot of Ai art for the blog but Ambre can just drop a total treat on me like this one. More will follow but I just adore this one.

Door to door service has never been better.

3 Days (and a weekend)

By

Skinnie Stallion

Monday morning

Neil had grown to dread being summoned to the corner office.  That was no good when he was the C-Suite office assistant and meant to be her personal PA.   He was so conflicted.   He admired Ms Williams a lot.   She was a one woman powerhouse who’d built the Agency into what it was today.  She’d foreseen the impact of AI and future proofed the Agency’s offering.  AI could do the grunt work but it could never provide the personal touch that made the Agency unique.  The Williams touch.   Ms Williams believed in customer intimacy and the Agency’s customers appreciated the service it provided.

He admired her in other ways.   He’d have ignored any other woman her age.  What was she?  In her fifties, he reckoned.  You didn’t get that kind of experience and have developed such a roster of clients without being around that age.  In her fifties but wearing well.   Exceptionally well.   She had the looks of a twenty year old, well thirty year old, he conceded.   A bit too old for him unfortunately.   It’s what made it so difficult when he was with her: he found her so physically attractive, and so charming and alluring, yet out of his age range and class.

Why did she have to be so damn attractive?   He found it impossible to concentrate when he was with her.  Well, he did concentrate but not on work matters.   She dressed like his ideal woman.  She was almost always in something shiny.  Leather pants.  Latex pants.  PVC Mac.  Leather coat.  Even PVC pants.   Those pants turned the heads of the whole office, even the girls. And her heels.   Every day she wore heels to the office.  FMH and she knew it, but her whole style made it clear she was unattainable to mere mortals.  She was like a goddess in his eyes.

He knocked first.  He could hear Ms Williams’ pants squeak as she leaned back in her executive chair when he entered with her coffee. God, he loved that sound.  She sent him out each morning to the coffee shop round the corner.  He reckoned it was because she enjoyed teasing the barista whom she knew had ‘a thing’ for her.   Who hadn’t?  Every day she walked down the street to the Agency's office past the coffee shop, past other shops and offices, and heads would turn.   Ms Williams was special.   This time she’d instructed him to get two coffees: her usual double shot Americano, and one for him.   He’d got himself a skinny decaf latte with a vanilla shot.   It was clear that she wanted to talk.

She didn’t give him time to put the coffees down before she started: “Neil, it’s only three days to the Trade Association Awards Dinner.  Are you fully prepared?”

“I’ve compiled my folder with the bios and the pictures like you said.”

“And have you memorised them all?   I can’t have you holding a folder all evening while we talk to guests.”

“Er ……” Neil stumbled.

“You have to memorise them,” Ms Williams demanded.   At times like this, Neil felt she went the full Miranda Priestly.   If only he could handle her with the aplomb that Andrea had managed.   Would that make him her Nell?  He’d adore that possibility.   “And what will you be wearing on Thursday evening?”

“I’ve borrowed a dinner jacket from my brother.   We’re the same size.”

“No, no, no!” Ms Williams didn’t raise her voice which made it worse.  Her usual languorous, honeyed tones simply became more staccato as she expressed herself firmly.   God, he loved her when she was like this.  She might terrify him but she was majestic.   Imperious even. “What did I tell you?”

“You wanted me in evening dress,” he answered in puzzled bemusement

“No, I wanted you in an evening dress.   We’re hosting Bergman and Knightley at the Dinner; they’re our major client.  They’ve nominated us in several categories including Creativity, Art Design and Customer Service.    We want to keep their account.  Do Bergman and Knightley do cloth dinner jackets?”

“No, Ms Williams.”

“Do B&K do latex dinner jackets?”

“Yes, I mean no, Ms Wiliams: not for men.   But they do a design for ladies and for B&K Boys: their take on the old Le Smoking style but in latex.   Very androgynous.  Very sexy.”  He added unguardedly.   He blushed at his own words.   Was that too much of a giveaway.

“Do they do evening dresses?”

“Yes, of course.”

“In one style?”

“No, they’ve a huge number of variants.”

“Quite.   Well, as you know, I wear the trousers in this Agency.  I built and own this Agency.  I will be wearing B&K’s Le Smoking on Thursday.   I expect you, my assistant, to be wearing a B&K evening dress.   I want you to be beside me all evening.   I expect you to be not only my prompter for the night  but my arm cNell too.”

“But, Ms Williams, I can’t ……”

“You can and you will.   We can’t both be wearing dinner jackets.   You will wear a dress.  What is the mantra of this Agency, Neil?  You’ve had it drummed into you since the day you started.”

“Customer first.  Be Customer facing.   Stand in the Customer’s shoes.”

“And what do I do, Neil?”

“You stand in the Customer’s shoes, Ms Williams,” he acknowledged.

“I do.  Today I’m wearing a pair of B&K Bellissimas: black ankle boots with five inch stiletto heels.”  She raised her leather clad legs and briefly rested them on her desk.  Neil thought she looked magnificent.   He’d already needed one trip to the bathroom that morning to calm down and get rid of the distressing bulge in his trousers.  

“Yes, Ms Williams.”

“And B&K Slinkys for good measure.   Do you want to feel them, Neil?  Do you want to feel this soft black leather and understand what it means to be focused on a Customer’s Account.   We have to live in the world of B&K.   We have to live the Brand to fully understand the Customer.”

“Yes, Ms Williams.”

“That’s why I am a B&K Lady and you need to be a B&K Boy.”

“But…..”

“You heard me: a B&K Boy.  I know you’ve been reluctant to take that step but it was a condition of your recruitment.  Maybe I’ve been too subtle about it in the past.  You’ve not picked up on the prompts  I’ve made about your hair, your skin,  your nails or your footwear.   Maybe too tolerant.  I don’t know whether you’ve been slow on the uptake about what I expect from my PA, or whether you’ve  just tried to ignore my requirements.   My last PA became so enthusiastic and immersed in the world of B&K that he decided to become a full-time B&K Boy.   Maybe I should get him back?”

Neil could feel his job slipping away on him.   He needed a job.  He needed this job to be near her.  He’d do anything to keep it.  He’d do anything for Ms Williams.  “Please don’t do that, Ms Williams,” he mumbled as he started to well up.  

“Very well, Neil.   We have limited time before the Awards Dinner.  I’m calling B&K now to find out what they can do for you.”  She flipped her office mobile and started to dial.   There was a short pause before a couple more button pushes.   Another brief pause then, “Hello?  Customer Service?  …… Oh, hello Sharon……  It’s Sheila Williams at The Williams Agency ……. Yes, THE Agency….. I need an urgent job by your Feminisation Unit……. It’s a boy……. Let’s just say it’s my boy……..Neil.  Neil Trenchard….. Certainly, that’s T-R-E-N-C-H-A-R-D, Trenchard……. Yes, full feminisation.”   She stopped and looked hard at Neil.  Reluctantly, he closed his eyes, bowed his head and nodded.   “Yes, fully consenting……  Height?  About five five, I think……..”   Neil nodded.   “Yes, quite petite but well proportioned.   He’ll be better when he’s wearing heels………. Size?  I would guess Size 8, ………   Yes, very cute,  five foot five and  Size 8.   He looks adorable when he pouts.  ……….About 32-32-32.   Yes, straight as a runner bean..…….Sadly, nothing to get hold of ………… Mmmm, yes, some curves would be good if you can manage them.   A corset perhaps.   Otherwise it’ll have to be tape……….Yes, I always think an over-corset looks good on a boy……. Oh, I don’t know.   Just a sec.   What shoe size are you Neil?”   She paused and looked at him.

“Er, Size 6.”

“I don’t know if you heard that: Size 6………. Yes, that should give plenty of options…………. Oh, I think he can manage four inch to start with but provide some five inch ones as well for when he gets used to wearing them…….. Hair, yes……. Yes, blonde please.   He’s ditzy enough.……. Yes, with a ponytail………. Nails, of course.  He’ll need extensions………  Make-up?   I’ll leave that with you.   Nothing over the top but he needs to go for the full B&K Boy look…….. Yes, he’ll need lessons and training since he will be wearing it permanently and I can’t keep giving him time off to go to your Boys Will Be Girls salon……….Right.  Clothing.    He needs outfitting for office work and an evening Gala Dinner, with some limited leisure wear though the standard B&K Boy look will be fine for that……. It’s the Gala Dinner that’s the priority …..…Yes, THAT Gala Dinner.”   

She paused and looked again at Neil.   He was trembling and still hadn't put the tray down.   She covered the mouthpiece and said to him, “Make sure you don’t slop the coffee, honey.”  Honey?  She’d never called him ‘honey’ before.  He tried to compose himself which was becoming increasingly difficult.

She resumed her instructions to B&K’s Customer Service Desk: “He’ll need a proper evening gown ….. A shoulder strapped mermaid dress would be fine.  He’ll need the shoulder straps given his lack of other support…….. Yes, latex, of course.   Naturally latex……..   Yes, lingerie……..   Latex too, please……..   And something for the bedroom, I think.”   She gave him another hard stare.   He tried to look impassive but he could feel more stirrings down below.   It was just as well she was focused on his face.   He might need another visit to the bathroom very soon.    “A little teddy and maybe a baby doll too.  In latex……..Yes, in latex.  I like a nice sticky boy …….. Yes, he will look sweet …….. Oh, and you might as well get him some bedroom mules……   Two inch platforms and six inch heels.……  In Perspex….. Yes, full stripper heels, I wouldn’t want him running away, would I? ……….  Yes, he’s the type, or soon will be, even if he doesn’t realise it yet.   Quite the sissy …….  Likes to play the shy one, but I’m about to change that…….  What else? …..  Yes, accessories.   He’ll need his ears pierced.   Gold hoop earrings. Two inch diameter…..   No necklace but a plain gold choker band to match his earrings……  Some gold bangles, and little stoned ring for his third finger left hand.  I don’t want anyone getting ideas about him.  He’s taken…….  Handbag to match his evening dress …..… Yes, the B&K Little Miss should be perfect for him…… Big enough for his lipstick, compact, a few tissues, keys and a little money ……  I assume you’ll equip him with a make-up case to bring home? …….  Good.  As I said this is urgent……… I will have him over to you later today…….. Complete.  Head to toe………  Not yet, but I will.   How long?......  No good, I need him in 3 days………. I understand.   No, not an issue, just bill me here………  On second thoughts, charge it to me personally, not the Agency.  Yes, Sheila Williams.  He is going to be mine, after all.   I’ve always wanted a B&K Boy of my very own.   You’ll have my account details on file.   I’ll have to think of something else for his bonus.  Maybe a flat, low profile cockcage to sort out unsightly bulges like the one he’s got now?   We’ll have to see.”

“Yes, he’ll be with you soon.”   Ms Williams glanced at Neil who was quivering with anticipation.   She wanted to cage him.   How heavenly would that be?    “He just needs time to drink his coffee and, by the look of him, have a nice slow wank.   After all, it’ll probably be his last for a long time.   Or, more likely, simply his last……..   Yes, I can make sure of that.  Boys are like Neil are quite simple, Sharon.   You just need to give them what they need, not what they want……… They’ll soon give up wanking when they find there’s a better way…… Oh, thank you for reminding me.   Rubber three inches, and one and a half inch diameter for day wear……. Got that?”   Neil tried to attract Ms Williams attention.  He wanted to gesticulate to get her to stop but his hands were full.   “Yes, only one and a half: I think he is a novice in that area…..... Stainless steel three inches, and one and half inch diameter with a jewelled base for evening wear……… Let’s say a ruby red for the jewel to match his lips and nails……. And rubber five inches, and two inch diameter for bedroom and night wear ……….   Yes, he’ll probably need a bit of stretching, but he’ll appreciate it in the long term given what I have in mind for him………… Yes, I think that’s all.   Send the invoice through to me Sharon…….. Goodbye Sharon, and thank you for your help and guidance.   Bye, bye.”  Ms Williams closed the call.

“There Neil.   All done.   Drink your coffee while we run through the lists and I give you a quick test.”   She gave him a knowing smile.   “I’ll make sure you have enough time for your wank before I get my driver to take you over to Bergman and Knightley.   Make sure you enjoy it.”

“Yes, Ms Williams,” said Neil who couldn't believe what was happening.   But he had signed the consent form.  

“Now what was all that gurning you were doing just before I closed the call?” 

“I was trying to tell you that I already wear one Ms Williams.   I’m wearing one now.”

“Oh, you darling boy.  How sweet.   You should have told me.   What other hidden secrets do you have?”

Monday morning

Nell walked round to get the  coffee order.   She couldn’t believe the looks she was getting from passers-by.   She’d already had some amazing reactions in the office when she’d walked in with Ms Williams that morning. They were greeted with a round of applause from colleagues for Thursday’s achievement but it was perhaps unusual for a PA to be holding her boss’s hand even if it seemed perfectly natural to Nell.   She guessed that HR might have a few things to say about her being in a relationship with her boss, but since it was Sheila’s company, Nell didn't expect there to be problems.  Even so, she’d taken off her (faux) engagement ring before going into work.

She’d been on Cloud 9 since last Thursday’s dinner. What a night that had been!  She’d memorised her cue cards successfully and been able to prompt Sheila about every representative from B&K, every prospective client and even the judges.   The Awards ceremony had been a triumph: The Williams Agency had swept the board in all their nominated categories.   Sheila had run out of acceptance speeches after first three awards and had resorted to sending Nell up to collect the trophies.  Nell had few words to say but the audience were delighted to see such a pretty girl and cheered her appearance on stage.  For the final award for Best Agency, Sheila had joined her at the podium and they’d kissed to tumultuous applause from the crowd.  There could be no going back after that.   Nell knew there was only one way she wanted to be.

Nell hadn’t gone into the office on Friday.   Sheila had said that she could have time off in lieu after their very late night at the Awards Dinner.  Ms Williams wasn’t worried: she’d decided to work from home that day.  She’d been as energetic as ever, while Nell had spent most of Friday in bed, admiring the trophy statuettes on the bedside tables.   On Saturday, she’d gone shopping with Sheila.   Sheila had insisted on taking her to B&K who seemed intent on showering them both with gifts of complimentary clothes and shoes.   They were delighted that pictures of Nell and Sheila had not only filled the trade press but had also reached the national dailies.   The internet was abuzz.  There were photographers outside the B&K store when they were leaving.    They were news and, more importantly, B&K was news.   The Sundays would have splash about them. They’d even had a kiss for the paparazzi.  The gossip pages and magazines were going to have a field day.

Nell spent most of Sunday in bed relaxing and reading the papers.  Sheila’s bed was so comfortable.   On Friday it had felt like her second home.   By Sunday, it was home.

The barista gawped when she placed the order:  “One double shot Americano and a skinny decaf latte with a vanilla shot, please.”   No doubt he’d seen the pictures in the papers.  Her pictures.   Her pictures with Sheila. He’d have to quell his yearning for Sheila.   Sheila was hers, although more correctly she was Sheila’s.   Nell did not intend anyone else to get a look in.

“For Ms Williams?” he queried.   Nell nodded.  “So what happened to the kid who used to come for coffees? Couldn't stand the Ice Queen any longer, I bet.”

“I……. He…….. Not sure.   I think he moved on.”

“Shame, he was kinda cute.   I’d been wondering about asking him for a date.”  

Nell’s heart skipped a beat.   Surely he liked Sheila?   “But don’t you fancy Ms Williams?”

“The Ice Queen?  I did once.   She looks great but I couldn’t.  Not a woman like that.  I want someone more my own age.  And my own sex,” he added.   “I really fancied that kid.  He was sweet.   Always running errands for her.  He seemed under her thumb. It’s why I call her the Ice Queen.  I felt sorry for him and always gave him an extra vanilla shot in his coffee.  I guess I wanted to give him my own vanilla shot, if you know what I mean,” he added with a wink.

Nell gulped.  “Oh!”  Now she knew why her coffee had always been so deliciously sweet.

“I could tell you were ordering for Ms Williams.  The kid always used to come in about this time asking for a double shot Americano.   She likes it strong and black, I used to joke with him.    You don’t have his number do you?  Or know his name?”

“I could try to find out,” said Nell, but knowing in her heart that she wouldn’t.   Neil was gone.   Neil had been fucked out of him in the early hours of Friday morning when they’d got back from the Awards Ceremony.  Thoroughly fucked out of him.  Sheila had delivered the finishing touch to what B&K’s Feminisation Unit had started.  A lot of touches and a lot of fuckings.   Any final vestiges had gone over the weekend when Sheila had used the collar and cuffs on him. Sheila had made a promise to her.   Sheila wasn’t going to allow Neil back.  She was Nell now: Ms Williams’ PA,   Ms Williams’ Nell.  And Ms Williams’ girlfriend, Nell reflected deliciously while squeezing hard on the plug Sheila had inserted in  her that morning.  A special plug that B&K had engraved with Sheila’s name.  Now she’d never be able to forget that Sheila was her squeeze.  She’d carry Sheila with her wherever she went.

“It’s strange because he used to like a skinny decaf latte with a vanilla shot too,” the barista mused while looking hard at Nell.   “I never forget what a customer orders.”   

Nell wondered whether he recognised her.   Or had he been reading some of the more scurrilous gossip columns in the red tops?  “Oh, really?   Yes, that is a coincidence.”   Nell was relenting.  The barista did seem quite a nice young man.   And if he wasn’t after Sheila, the new Nell was willing to accept a challenge. Maybe she could get him to like girls.   After all, if Nell was going to be Sheila’s B&K Boy, she ought to live and behave like one.  Neil might be gone, but Nell still had certain appetites that would need satisfying, especially when Sheila was away meeting clients.  A little variety would also spice up her life: it might be nice to have something organic inside her for a change.  “Look, I’ll see what I can do.  I’ll ask around.   Can I have your name and number and I’ll get back to you?”   It was strange what wearing latex and heels did for a girl’s confidence.

“Gosh, I never thought that I’d have a pretty girl like you ask me for my number.”

“You’ll be surprised,” said Nell.   Very surprised, she thought.   

A few minutes Nell walked out with the coffees and his details.   She knew she’d have to ask Sheila.  There was no urgency.   Knowing Sheila, she’d enjoy letting Nell tease the barista whatever the outcome.

Hi Everyone

   Just a quick pop in to say, i should be back next Monday. I'ts been a tiring slog over Christmas, with one very nice bright spot 😉😉

So I hope you all had a lovely time.

My very best wishes

XXXX

Andy

My Grandson Barbie

By

Skinnie Stallion

Agnes put her feet up, savouring the aroma of fresh coffee intermingling with the sweet scent of her Dundee cake starting to rise.  It was nice that Ethel was coming round for coffee and cake.   She would enjoy having a relaxed chat and introducing her friend to Peter.

It had been Sonia’s idea to send Peter down south to stay with Agnes for the summer.   It was his own fault.   It was obvious from his results that he’d not studied.  He’d not put in the work.  Maybe moving out of the Halls of Residence for his second year had been a bad idea.  The travel to lectures wouldn’t have helped.  His choice of rooms near the station had never seemed sensible.  Now term had finished, Sonia didn’t want him lounging around at home or going out to bars with old school friends.  And he could kiss goodbye to any thoughts of getting a holiday job and saving up to go to Ayia Napa or Ibiza.   He needed to stay focused on his Business Studies Course and be ready for resits at the end of the summer.   If he didn’t pass those, he could kiss goodbye to his third year in Newcastle.  

Sonia knew she’d be of no practical assistance herself; she’d just end up shouting at him if he didn’t study.   She had no head for figures, but her mum had been a successful businesswoman, which is why Agnes had been able to afford to retire to the south coast as well as helping out with some of Peter’s university costs.   Fortunately Peter had  always got on well with his Gran.  She might be a bit eccentric and have a rather wayward dress sense for a woman her age, but perhaps she could get him to see sense and help him with his studies.  It might not be much of holiday for Peter but he needed to knuckle under and work if he was going to avoid getting chucked out.   

Agnes couldn’t understand why Peter was having problems.   He’d always been a bright boy.   It had been his choice to study Business Studies.   She’d have preferred him to have studied something a bit more academic but he was adamant.  He ought to be sailing through the course.   The penny dropped for her during the first tutorial she’d given him.  The day after he arrived, she tried to explain ledger accounting to him.  When she started to use his bank statements to go through Debtors and Creditors she’d been dumbfounded.  There was more money in his account than she could believe.  Money had been coming in regularly throughout the last two terms.   Every week, he’d been depositing a thousand pounds or more in cash.   

At first she  wondered whether he had a job, but what job would pay that kind of money to an unqualified student?  The money definitely wasn’t coming from Sonia.   This was more money than Sonia was earning and it was being paid in as cash.   Agnes quickly dismissed her second thought that he had been stealing: the weekly amounts were too similar and regular.  Her suspicions were already forming.   She knew she had to confront him and get to the bottom of this.   And she also needed to teach him about compound interest: the silly goose was keeping all that money in his current account.  He needed a deposit account with a decent rate of interest.

“Peter, I need to talk to you about these, pointing to the columns of incoming payments,” she said as she leafed through the statements.  Peter began to shake as Agnes moved closer to him on the sofa.  He couldn't believe his stupidity in letting her see his statements.   He knew she wouldn’t let it rest till she found out the truth, and he wasn’t going to start lying to her.  He never had, and he never would.  “How have you got all this money?  It can’t be a job given the size of all the amounts.  Have you been doing OnlyFans?  I know some girls get a lot of money that way.  I guess boys can too.   But that wouldn’t come in as cash, would it?”

“No Gran.   Not OnlyFans.”

“Ok not OnlyFans but something similar?  Something on the internet”

“Not really.”   Peter trembled.  He wasn’t quite lying. He might have used AdultWork to get noticed initially but he’d taken down his profile as soon as word of mouth had started to spread.   He didn’t want any of his friends finding it.

“Ok, well what?”

Agnes’ jaw had dropped when Peter told her what he’d been doing in the afternoons and weekends when he should have been studying.    He might be an attractive young man and popular with the girls, but she knew well enough that he wasn’t the type of boy who was cut out to be a gigolo, as her generation knew male escorts.   It appeared that he had ‘friends’, as he referred to them, who visited or he called round most afternoons.  Friends who preferred him wearing a dress.   Men as well as women.  Some were clearly older ladies, who liked taking a younger man in hand.

The silly goose.   If only he’d talked to her first.  At least he was still in one piece and hadn’t been physically hurt by his experiences although she expected he’d received some chastisement and rather firm spankings from a few of his friends, particularly the ladies. One lady had a particular penchant for collecting him on Friday afternoons to stay the weekend in her luxury apartment near Whitley Bay.  She kept him as her plaything and maid, returning returned him to his flat Newcastle  on Monday mornings still in his maid’s uniform.   No wonder he missed lectures on Monday morning, but he was being so handsomely remunerated for his services.

Agnes knew what she needed to do.   She called Bergman and Knightley immediately after she finished her tutorial.   Bergmans had called round to collect him that very afternoon, more than willing to oblige one of their Platinum Card holders.   One week later, she was looking forward to seeing what they’d accomplished.

At ten-thirty, the doorbell rang.  “Am I early?” were Ethel’s first words.

“Not at all, dear.  Perfect timing.   Come in.  The coffee’s just brewed.   Go through to the lounge and I’ll bring it through.  Cake?”

“Ooh, yes dear.”  Ethel sniffed.  “You know I love your Dundee cake.  Now what’s this surprise you’ve got for me.  I can’t believe it’s just the cake.”

The two friends had been talking for nearly half an hour when Agnes heard a van pull up outside.  The doorbell rang at precisely eleven. Bergmans were nothing if not reliable.  “I’ll get that,” said Agnes heading for the door.  “I’m sure that’ll be Peter.”

An attractive young girl was waiting outside.   Agnes noted that the white van was discreetly unmarked to avoid arousing neighbour curiosity, but the girl’s uniform of white blazer, black pencil latex skirt and heels immediately identified her as a B&K representative.   “Ms Elkins?   I’m Maya from Bergman and Knightley.  We have a delivery for you.   Are we Ok to bring him in?”

“Yes, certainly.   In the hall will be fine.”

The girl gestured to two well-built ladies in leather jackets, leather trousers and work boots who started to open the van’s rear doors.  “You may want to give us a few minutes while we bring him in and uncrate him.   We’ll clear away any mess.  If it’s OK, I’ll call you when he’s ready.”     Agnes was eager to see B&K’s handiwork but, maintaining her patience, consented.   He’d been away a week, another few minutes wouldn’t make much difference.   She’d only been back in the lounge for ten minutes when there was a gentle knock and a head poked round the door.   “All done,” said Maya.   “Please can you come and inspect him, and sign the delivery docket and invoice?”

“Certainly dear,” said Agnes, helping Ethel out of her seat.  They gathered beside Maya as the girl drew back a red sheet to reveal a blue and pink display box with art deco flourishes housing a life size doll.    Agnes heart leapt with joy as she saw what Bergmans had accomplished.   It exceeded her wildest dreams.   “He looks wonderful!” she exclaimed.

“Oh goodness,” squeaked an astonished Ethel.

“We went with your feminisation proposal, but given our new Barbie range, we decided to go the full Barbie with him and personalise the packaging for you. May I present to you your new ‘My Grandson Peter Barbie’ fully feminised, bimbofied and Barbiefied.” said Maya.  

“Ooooh!”  There were admiring shrieks of delight from Agnes and Ethel. 

“We turned him blonde for the full Barbie effect although his roots will need retouching in  a few weeks.   He’s wearing an off-the-shoulder, black latex midi bodycon hobble dress from our Rhys Jenner Boys Will be Girls™ range and a pair of B&K’s standard 5” heel courts.  I hope you approve.  Latex definitely suits him.  The packaging has a rear entrance, as does his dress, so you can present him to friends and guests and have lots of fun unboxing and unwrapping.   This is your remote.”  Maya proffered a small device towards Agnes but Ethel grabbed it like an excited child and started to press buttons. “As you can see, he’s been encased and lacquered with B&K’s Perma-Gloss™ Shell Finish so his make-up will never run, he’ll have a permanent shine and he’s stiff but fully poseable like any good Barbie doll.”

Agnes raised an eyebrow.  “Stiff?” she enquired.

“Oh, not there, of course.  His little thing’s encased in the Perma-Gloss™ shell and will stay small and limp however hard he tries and strains.”

“How sweet,” said Ethel.

“His shell finish has been padded and moulded to give him some cleavage and enhance his curves.   It’s quite rigid, although he can still feel sensations if he’s touched or caressed.”

“Or fucked?” interjected Ethel while pointing the remote at the box.  Peter’s eyelids started to flutter as his plug sprang into life.   This was so humiliating.   It hadn’t been so bad when it was the girls in the workshop playing with him, but not in front of his Gran and whoever this rather crude, old lady was.   Why hadn’t Gran told him that she shopped at B&K?  He loved going in their Newcastle store but only to browse.   It was only recently that he felt he had enough money to afford the items he hankered after.

“Yes, while fucked or fingered.   Obviously no lacquer has been applied in those sensitive, intimate areas so he’ll feel every stroke.  He just won’t be able to move himself, but you or any of his partners will be able to move his head, arms and legs like any good doll.  And adjust and open his mouth.   He can’t speak but he can still use his tongue.”   

“How sensible,” added Agnes, “but can he hear?  I do want him to be able to continue with his studies.”

As the tempo of his plug began to increase, Peter blinked and tried to catch his Grandmother’s eye to no avail.  He was full of regret for what he’d done during the last two terms.   He wanted to shout ‘Grandma, please, I promise to try harder at uni,’ but his mouth remained frozen in the same delicate ‘O’ from when he’d sucked the last of the B&K Boys just before being installed in his box and taken to the despatch bay.

“Yes, we followed your wishes,” continued Maya.  “He can still hear and see perfectly.   He can hear every word we’re saying now, and can move his eyes and flutter his eyelashes to communicate.   Our therapists and technicians have given him basic ‘speech’ training but his vocabulary is still quite limited.  You’ll need to learn them too if you’re going to understand him.   He currently knows:  ‘Yes’, ‘No’, ‘Please’, ‘Thirsty’, ‘Hungry’, ‘Poo’, ‘Piss’, ‘Bottom’, ‘Mouth’, ‘Plug, ‘Cock’, ‘More’, ‘Less’, ‘In’, ‘Out’, ‘Slow’, ‘Fast’, ‘Deep’, ‘Hard’, ‘Vibrate’, ‘Thrust’, ‘Stop’ and ‘Thank you’.   So, for example, ‘More cock’ would be fluttering his eyelashes fast then opening his eyes wide.  More words and phrases are listed in the manual if you are happy to train him.  I do hope that you are satisfied Ms Elkins.”

“He’s perfect.  I could not be happier dear,” said Agnes. 

“That buzzing seems to be getting louder,” said Ethel.

Peter’s eyes bulged as his plug sprang ramped up its intensity.   He wanted to squirm but was restrained by his rigid shell.  He knew he was already beginning to  leak.  He closed his eyes tight for a second hoping Maya would notice his request to stop.

“That’ll be his plug, Madam.  I think you’ve put it on to thrust.  Let me just reset him,” said Maya taking the remote from Ethel and pressing the Off button.   “I’m sure you don’t want to exhaust him or his batteries too early.”

“No,” agreed Agnes, taking the remote from Maya. 

“Or make him too sore,” Maya added.   “It is a rather large plug and it’s only there to keep him comfortable, content and always ready.”   

“Quite.   What size did you go for?”

Maya checked the paperwork.  “The workshop report says six inches and two inches diameter.  They found the smaller sizes were too loose in him.   He’s clearly been taking quite a lot of cock.  Well sized ones too.” 

“The naughty boy!” exclaimed Agnes with a smile of delight.   She felt so proud of her grandson.   He was clearly the boy she’d always thought he’d be, and living his dream.  The B&K ‘improvements’ would only enhance his development.

“Do you want to take him out to road test him?   We can go through the features and procedures for feeding and toileting.   Then we just need to complete the paperwork,” said Maya,  “and your warranty.”

“I’m sure everything will be fine.   We can talk through the features.  I don’t want Ethel getting over-excited again,” said Agnes giving her friend a hard stare.   “I’m very satisfied with what Bergmans have done and am happy to sign.”

“Excellent,” said Maya, holding out a document and a pen to Agnes.

Agnes examined the document.   She paused before signing.  “But the invoice says zero.  No charge.  I’m quite happy to pay.”

“Well, as one of Bergman and Knightley’s oldest …”

“Less of the old, dear, please,” interrupted Agnes.

Maya corrected herself: “As one of Bergman and Knightley’s most loyal customers, we thought you deserved this bonus, although there are some conditions we would like to attach.”

“What are they?”

“Given how he has turned out, we would like to use Peter over the summer as a display item in the store at weekends.   Would that be acceptable?”

“Certainly.”

“And given the issues you described when placing your order, I have consulted with our Newcastle store.  They are willing to accommodate him with their resident B&K Boys.   And he can have a weekend job in the store if you choose: that way you can stop his little escorting games and he can cover some of his accommodation costs.  Would that be acceptable?”

“Yes.”

“And if he graduates successfully and is well behaved, B&K will be happy to offer a pretty thing like him a permanent job.   On the shop floor at first of course, like all our trainees so that they understand the business,  then moving to the back office if he acquits himself well.  We wouldn’t want him to waste his degree.   But that’s only if he wants.   A lot of our B&K Boys are happy to stay on the shop floor, or be auctioned, or become part of our loan portfolio.”

“How perfect!” exclaimed Agnes, signing the document with a flourish.  “Are you happy with that Peter?”

Peter blinked twice.

“He says ‘Yes’,” said Maya.

“And will he get any cock?” asked Ethel.

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be very well catered for.  Our B&K Boys may be feminised in looks, but many of them still have voracious appetites.    Between them, our B&K Girls and management in Newcastle, and our Platinum Card Customers, he should be kept more than happy while not neglecting his studies.”

“Are you happy with that Peter?” asked Agnes.

Peter blinked twice.  

“You promise to study this summer?”

Peter blinked twice again.

“Good.   Why don’t we go through and have some coffee while you take us through the features, Maya?   That’s if you have time.”

“Oh certainly,” agreed Maya.

“And please invite your delivery ladies to come in and join us.   I’m sure Ethel would like to get better acquainted with them.”

“Certainly.   I’ll just go and ask them to come in.”

Agnes and Ethel went into the lounge as Maya turned towards the front door.   Peter hoped that she would notice him as he narrowed his eyes, winked his left eye, and slowly fluttered his left eyelashes, before closing both eyes for a second.   

“You really are a naughty boy,” Maya  muttered.  “All that you cum you swallowed when you were in Packing must have whetted your appetite.  I’ll set you going when I’m in the lounge going through the manual and describing your all features to your Gran.   You are a lucky boy to have such a caring Grandma.  I’ll see you in eight  weeks when we pick you up for shipping to Newcastle before your resits.   We’ll leave it to the Newcastle gals to strip off your Perma-Gloss™ Shell, although I’m sure they and  their B&K Boys will want to have some fun first.   Please make sure you pass.   You’ll enjoy becoming part of the B&K Family.”

Happy Wednesday

XXX

Andy

A Step Too Far

1.À la recherche

It was strange how memory worked.   Some things he remembered clearly: his first bike, going to the zoo, his first teddy, what he’d had for breakfast.   Others were just hazy mist.  Everything was such a blur, recent events especially.  They were lost in times past. He remembered yesterday.   He remembered the day before that.  He could even remember most of the last week although the days did become a bit of a jumble.   They were all so similar.   It was why he liked the routine.  The routine helped.   

He thought he could remember coming to the house.   Getting out of the big black car.   Meeting the Governess. (She seemed familiar.  An old friend?)   Settling in.    When would that have been?  How many days ago?   Before that, pretty much everything was a blank.  He wondered if eating a sponge cake dipped in tea would help bring things back.   But there were never madeleines for tea, not at this house, and he struggled to recollect why it would help in any case.

Fortunately there were things he still knew.  Obvious things, mostly, but they gave him comfort.  He knew that he was a girl for a start.   He knew he liked swimming.   He knew he liked ponies.   He knew that he liked other girls.  He liked girls’ magazines. He liked fashion magazines.    He definitely knew he liked ladies.  Pretty ladies.  He knew he liked shiny things, girly things.  He knew he liked wearing high heels.   He knew he liked the Governess; he liked her a lot.  

The Governess gave him pretty clothes to wear, shiny clothes.  She could be stern but she could also be kind.   Very kind when she made him feel squidgy and nice.   She often made him squidgy. Very squidgy.  He liked being squidgy.   It made him feel special: all shivery and relaxed.   He liked the times each day when she made him squidgy.   He looked forward to them.  It’s why he liked the routine.  If he was good she let him put on a nice dress in the evening and took him down to the Drawing Room to meet other ladies.  He always tried to be good for her since it usually meant he could wear a latex dress.  He liked latex.  

The Governess warned him about other ladies.  She particularly advised him to avoid ladies with silver gray hair with wavy curls.  He stayed close to the Governess even when he was in the Drawing Room.  She made him feel safe.   And she made him squidgy when she took him back up to her bedroom.

He knew he didn’t like boys.  The Governess had warned him about boys: nasty smelly, noisy things.  He would steer clear of boys.  “Where’s a will, there’s a way,” he expected her  to say, but she always said:  “Where there’s a Will, there’s a willy,” instead.  “Stay away,” she advised.   He didn’t understand what she meant.   

At least he could read.    It occupied his time when he wasn’t with the Governess or doing his make-up.  He was sure he’d liked reading books but couldn’t call to mind any titles. There weren’t many books in his bedroom in any case but there were magazines.  Reading was fine.   He could see things close to.    It was just things a bit further away that were a problem.  They could be and fuzzy indistinct.   It helped that the things he liked most were always in close-up. Reading.   Doing his make-up.   Dressing the Governess.  Kneeling before the Governess.  Kissing the Governess.  Lying on his back for the Governess.   

If only he could remember his name.    Surely it wasn’t just ‘Sissy’?

2.Dress for Success

He admired himself in the mirror.  He liked his new wig but he would need to get used to having such a pronounced fringe.  It was such a change from his usual red bun. He liked wigs.   It made him feel more natural.   Better than being bald.   When he’d arrived at the house he’d found he’d been shaved.  ‘To help with the healing’ someone had said.   The Governess had kept him bald but allowed him to wear wigs.  She said that she wanted a proper ‘Sissygirl’. 

He fiddled with the side bangs of his platinum blonde bob, twirling it in his fingers and letting it flick against the latex collar and padded shoulders of his dress.  He decided to apply another layer of gloss to his lips.   He wanted them as kissable as possible for the Governess.  He wanted them smooth and greasy so that their kisses slid and so that he could leave his mark on her.  He liked how she never wiped herself after their moments together , at least not down there, and kept his prints on her like a trophy.  He wondered whether she ever displayed them to her fellow Governesses.  He hoped so.  He felt the bond between them was so close.   It had grown since she’d given him his own uniform.  He knew before that he was accepted, now he felt sure he was loved.

She’d asked him to come to her room for eleven o’clock and he wanted to look his best.  Squelches and clicks accompanied his slow progress down the corridor.  He felt his way along.   He found the lighting dim but he knew to count the doors. His latex stockings screeched as they rubbed together, restricted within his tight hobble skirt.  Try as he might, he still couldn’t walk with the elegance and poise of the Governess.   How he envied her.      He struggled to breath.  She had laced his corset far tighter this time.  He couldn't recall when she first put him in a corset.  He only remembered that he’d loved it.   Its tightness.  Its shapeliness.  As soon as he wore one, he knew he never wanted to be without.  He wanted to look like the girls in the magazines.   Not the boring ones with slim straight figures, he already had a figure like that and had grown to dislike it.  He wanted an hourglass figure, like a model’s or, better, like the Governess.  

But today his corset was tight.  Really tight.  The tightest it had ever been.  It was his own fault: he’d requested it.   He was never going to get a waist like hers unless he made the effort.   He needed to try harder if he was going to impress her.   He had to try harder if he was going to look like her.   He had to try harder if he was going to become like her.  Become a Governess.   Become her daughter.

He knocked on the Governess’s door and waited.    She liked to make him wait but this time he could hear voices inside.   The Governess was not on her own.   He was confused and uncertain.   Would this mean no squidgy time or simply much shortened?    A peremptory “Enter”.  

As soon as he opened the door to her bedroom, he saw that the Governess was meeting with a colleague.  His heels clicked on the polished floorboards as he walked across to stand beside his mentor.  He felt so privileged.  The Governess wanted to show him off.   It was such a confidence boost.   He looked at the artwork above the Governess’s bed.   Artwork that he’d admired so often from below as the Governess emulated some of her favourite images.  He'd spent so many happy hours being trussed and tied by her.  He loved being trussed and tied since it was always the natural precursor to being squidgy.   Except she always made him wait.  Was it an hour?  An hour of anticipation.  An hour of stickiness and frustration.  It only made squidgy time better when it came.  

The routine had its own rhythms but it always ended the same way with Governess Dark displaying her furious passion for him.  For him he loved to remind himself.  No-one else.  All for him.  She had such a feverish intensity as she drove him to fresh heights of pleasure.  His moans were normally muffled though that just made it more exciting as he bit down, but   sometimes she’d cry out.  He didn’t understand what she meant when she yelled: “That’ll teach the bitch!”, “She’ll never defy me again!”, “He’s mine now!”,  “He’ll never be yours!”, “I own him!”    He didn’t mind.   The more furious she got, the harder she tried, the longer she pounded  and the more squidgy he became.   And then she’d untie him and it was back to his room for the start of another cycle.  The routine was always the same: a shower,  make-up, dressing, lacing and primping, and then back to her bedroom for another experience.  He always wondered how she’d tie him the next time or what position she’d choose to make him squidgy.   It added to the thrill.

“This is the sissy, Governess Staff.   Say hello, sissy,” ordered Governess Dark.

“Hello, Governess Staff.”  He made a half-hearted attempt to curtsey but found his corset too restrictive to bend.

“Very impressive,” said the imposing lady who could almost have been a clone of Governess Dark.   As he stood beside the ladies he felt complete.  It confirmed his feelings about how he wanted to look.  He felt at one with them.   He wanted to be a Governess too.

“Isn’t he perfect?” asked the Governess.  “His conditioning is progressing well.  Only a few more weeks and he will be the vision of submissive loveliness that he could have been four years ago.”   

“Yes, but are you sure it is wise?” enquired the Governess’s visitor.

“Dutiful.  Compliant. Submissive.  And, of course, willing.  What more could be desired?  Sissy perfection. The Sisterhood will want all sissies to be conditioned this way.  In time he will beg them to become my daughter.”

“This is very dangerous, Governess Dark.   I fear they will not accept this,” said Governess Staff.  “Taking an un-willing daughter has never been heard of.”

“He will be totally willing.   It will only be The Sisterhood with their antiquated views and materialistic attitudes who may prove unwilling.”

“Is it squidgy time, Governess?” he asked, trying to pick up on the cues.

“Not quite yet, sissy.   I just want Governess Staff to meet you.  You see what I mean about willing?  Eager and willing.”   

“Yes, but he can never be a Governess.   Not a proper Governess,” protested Governess Staff.

“Of course not.   But won’t that make him even more amusing and adorable?  And willing.   Did I say willing?”

“Yes,” said Governess Staff growing increasingly concerned about her colleague.

“Our very own mascot.   My very own mascot,” Governess Dark corrected herself.   “A mascot in my image purged of the last vestiges of that woman’s influence.    A totally tame sissy reflecting all her weaknesses.”   

“Be careful.   There may be other factors,” interjected Governess Staff.  “I understand there are plans to rehabilitate that …..” she looked nervously at Governess  Dark and then at the boy looking enchantingly sweet in his Governess uniform,  “that woman.”

“What do you mean?”

“Since losing that woman’s involvement when she went on the run, B⚥y?’s fortunes have declined.   They want her back.   They need her back.    The Sisterhood feels she’s nearly served her penance in any case.  I expect she will have conditions of her own if she does return.  B⚥y? is likely to need its top model too.”  She glanced again at the apprentice governess.  

“Never!  I can’t have that woman interfering again.   He’s wasted on her.  I am going to have to get support for my proposal before she has a chance to get involved.”  Governess Dark turned to Andy.  “You like me don’t you, Sissy?” she simpered. 

“Yes, Governess Dark,” affirmed.   “Is it squidgy time yet”? he implored.    

“Would you like some squidgy, squidgy, Sissy?”

“Yes please, Governess Dark.”

“And how do you ask, Sissy?”

“Squidgy, squidgy, please Mummy,” he implored excitedly.

“Good girl.   Would you leave us, please, Governess Staff?   This sissy would clearly like some more conditioning.   Like I said, willing.”

He couldn’t wait for Governess Staff to leave so that he could start his worship of the Governess, but he was left wondering: “What was The Sisterhood?”  and  “Who was ‘that woman’?” and “Why were neither of them able to say her name?”

3.  Overreach

Madam Thash couldn’t help eyeing Governess Dark with suspicion.   It was hard to dispel thoughts about past misdemeanours but everyone deserved a second chance.   That was what the programme was all about after all.    Demotion to the rank of Governess and being given an important task would allow her to get back on track with The Sisterhood.

"I understand that you've achieved excellent results, Governess Dark" said Madam Thrash.   "I admit that I had my doubts about you especially after that unfortunate incident at Knightley Towers four years ago.  It seems that you have learned from our rehabilitation programme."

"Thank you, Madam Thrash.  "

"I confess that I was not at all convinced about you using a more benign approach," the head stable mistress  continued.   "I would have applied far more severe chastisement to this wretched absconder.   But, if he shows no marks on his body after what he’s been through, it does you credit."

"I have found that gentler and more seductive techniques can have their benefits, you just need to find the right incentives.  A few weeks conditioning is all that's been needed.  Frustration and desperation can be excellent motivators.  'Carrot and stick' may have its place  but 'carrot and cock' work much better with girls like this.  Girl cock, of course.”

“Naturally,” agreed Madam Thrash.
  

“You will find that he's now a devoted and submissive girl willing to do whatever I ask."

Governess Dark thought she heard  the word “Good” breathed by a stablegirl standing near the window.  The girl was shuffling some papers.  Madam Dark wasn’t deceived.   The girl might be dressed like a young  stablegirl, she might look like one of Madam Thrash’s young stablegirls, but Madam Dark wasn’t fooled: it was another of The Sisterhood’s bloody accountants.   Fucking bean counters.   They typified everything that was wrong with The Sisterhood.   Who was running the organisation these days: the mistresses or young kids in finance who’d probably never tamed nor trained a sissy?   She was determined that she was never going to let The Dark Institute become a Temple of Mammon like the Sisterhood.   The Dark Institute would always be for mistresses and run by mistresses.

"I think you're right Governess Dark,” agreed Madam Thrash.   “After what the Bounty Hunters and the pony trainers did to him, I can see why he would respond to kindness.  I’m sure you’re very generous with your kindness,” said Madam Thrash knowingly,  “…and your cock.  It was such a shame he tried to escape from his last client.   Jumping from her Highness’s yacht when he learned that she had purchased an extension seems to have tipped him over the edge in all senses.   Such a shame since a further hundred and five days with the Rani it would have sorted out all Lady Jane’s financial obligations to The Sisterhood and meant we could consider bringing her back into the fold.”

Governess Dark blenched at the mention of Lady Jane’s name.  “Really?   You do surprise me.   She was a renegade and led The Sisterhood on such a merry dance.”

“It takes one renegade to recognise another,” smiled Madam Thrash.   “But The Sisterhood can be forgiving.  We believe in giving our members second chances.   If you can change your ways, why not Lady Jane?” she said quizzically.   “And in her boy we have a prize asset who should earn us returns many times over.”  

“He wouldn't go back to Lady Jane?” queried Governess Dark.   

“Definitely not,” confirmed Madam Thrash.  “A condition of Lady Jane’s readmission would be the permanent surrender of her rights.  He would still be required for B⚥y? work but that would be the only linkage.    If only she’d done what we asked two years ago it would have made life so much easier rather than running off to the US with him.   So foolish.”

“Good.  She always was a snooty cow,” opined Governess Dark.

“Indeed.    And how is the boy after his unfortunate injury?   Serving as a stewardess on the Rani’s yacht, it’s surprising he hadn't realised the height of the upper deck above the sea.  He must have hit the water hard.   How is he doing?”

“Physically he is well and prettier than ever, as you will see, but he’s shown little progress with his head injury.  There’s no scars but the poor thing has no real memory.”

“And optically?”

“Vision has improved quite a bit he’s still short-sighted like he was before.   We’ve kept him with no glasses nor contacts while it continues to settle.   On the plus side, he’s not going to run away again if he can’t see where he’s going and his vision is good enough for close-up work.   It means he is sweetly reliant on his custodian and whoever holds his hand.” 

“Perfect.  We can’t afford him running away again.  

“We lost a fortune having to cancel that second contract with the Rani,” piped up a small voice by window.

“Thank you, Miss Count,” said Madam Thrash cutting off the girl and scowling at her for interrupting.   “Shall we invite him in?  I would like to see the result of your efforts.”   She clapped her hands and the double doors to the office opened.  A red-haired boy wearing a sleeveless pink latex mini-dress entered.   

The boy was scowling.   He resented not wearing his Governess uniform and his blonde wig.  Worse was the absence of a corset.   Without his corset he felt naked.  His figure looked so shapeless that anyone might mistake him for a boy.  At least he was wearing a latex dress and heels.  But most importantly, Governess Dark had let him wear his ankle bangle and his gold collar.  He loved his bangle and collar and what they signified.   He felt so grateful to Governess Dark.  He peered round the room.   He made out the shimmer of Governess Dark’s black latex.  He walked over to her.   Governess Dark motioned to him to squat at her feet.   He went down on his haunches.   He realised his Governess was stood beside a lady in boots.  He wondered whether he was going to be expected to lick.

"See Madam Thrash how we now have a devoted sissy.”

“Excellent, Governess Dark!”

“A devoted sissy whose highest aspiration is to become like us."

"Like us, Governess Dark?" Madam Thrash seemed perplexed.

"Yes.  He no longer wants to go back to being a maid, and it might be difficult with his poor vision.  A future owner is not going to want any breakages.   He wants to be a Governess, or at least play at being a Governess.   To help us, to be with us and, most importantly, to look like us is what he aspires to.   As you can see, he follows me like a devoted puppy.  He wants to be with me at all times."

"I see.  This is quite irregular, Governess Dark.  We were expecting to hire out this beauty   and achieve a significant return on our wayward asset.   Isn't that right, Miss Count?"

"Yes, Madam Thrash." said the accountant.  "We were envisaging a series of quarterly hires.  There is high demand for cabin boys, harem boys, nautch boys, ponyboys ... the list is endless..... and obviously sissymaids.  In fact the first auction is planned for next week."

"I realise that but this girl has higher aspirations," said Madam Dark.   She looked down at Andy.    "What would you like so ask, Madam Thrash, sissy?"   Andy started to raise his face to look at Madam Thrash only to be brought to an abrupt halt by a peremptory command from Governess Dark, "Head down sissy.  No eye contact.  Head only raised when the Mistress's skirt is lifted and you are invited to lick.    Now ask your question."

Andy lowered his head and asked softly and sheepishly,  "Please Madam Thrash, may I be Governess Dark's daughter?"

Madam Thrash seemed shocked.   She looked hard at the Governess Dark.   This was bringing back bad memories of past events involving the Governess and the boy.   But to Madam Dark’s dismay, it was the accountant who spoke, intervening before Madam Trash could answer.  “Absolutely not,” said Miss Count.  “He is too valuable to be taken as a daughter.”  This was everything Madam Dark feared: The Sisterhood was indeed being run by the accountants.  The accountant was on a roll: “We shall accelerate his feminisation and place him on the international list to regain our investment.”

Madam Thrash recovered herself and began to admonish Madam Dark: “You overstep your boundaries.  Do not forget your place ….. Governess Dark.   This is irregular.   Highly irregular.   I can see that a bond has developed between you and Andy like there was between him and Lady Jane but this is most inappropriate.   I will need to consider and discuss with other members of The Sisterhood’s High Council what we do about you when we next meet at Knightley Towers.   Until then you are suspended from duty and will be taken to the basement cells to await our verdict.”

Madam Thrash pressed a button on her desk and leather clad security guards appeared.  Governess Dark regretted that she’d ever raised the issue of ownership of the boy.   She should have just taken him when she had the chance.  The guards began to escort her away.   The boy rose from his haunches as if to follow.   He needed to follow: it would soon be squidgy time.   He was to be halted by a command from Madam Thrash.  “Stay here, Andy.   Governess Dark is no longer your trainer or your Governess.   Stay here while we have some tea and discuss our next steps.”

“Be a good slut, Andy.   Just don’t ever go back to that fucking bitch, Lady Jane Fullerton-Jones!  I hate that cu….” called Governess Dark as the guards led her out the door.

The boy was puzzled.   Not by the disappearance of his Governess although that was perplexing.   Not by the apparent loss of the afternoon’s squidgy time, that could wait (he hoped).   He was puzzled by what he was hearing.    Andy?  The Sisterhood?  Knightley Towers?   Lady Jane?  Lady Jane Fullerton-Jones?   Dark?   Governess Dark?   Or was it Madam Dark?   Yes, Madam Dark.    All those names sounded familiar.   He’d heard them somewhere before.  He thought he remembered a Jane.  Was it a Lady Jane?  And Andy?  Was his name Andy?  He could feel his memory stirring.  He needed to find the will power to remember.   That’s right!   There was a Will.   Why did thinking about Jane and Will make feel a bit sticky and yearn to be squidgy?

He wished he could ask his Auntie.  Auntie?  Where had that come from?   Yes, he knew he had an Auntie.  Was it Auntie Jane?  Aunt Jane?   He wondered if he could ask Madam Thrash for some sponge cake to go with his tea.