Simon’s wife had always admired the ladies at their local tennis club. They were all of a certain age, and when they got together socially there was a quiet serenity in their companionship. Beautifully dressed, without exception, they met every Tuesday and Saturday for lunch in the Pavilion restaurant for a long, lazy lunch full of chatter and laughter.
Simon would watch Louise’s eyes wander across the room, her chin resting on her hands, gazing with such admiration at this small, perfectly manicured cohort of ladies that lunch. By comparison, Louise looked positively scruffy, all lycra and trainers, sipping a skinny latte in the corner, still glowing from their exertion on court.
Simon had to admit that they were quite elegant, and often admired them for the sheer effort it must have taken to prepare themselves collectively for their bi-weekly rendezvous. Polished nails, sheer expensive stockings, slim pointed heels and wonderfully tailored skirts, jackets and dresses in classic colours cut with expensive cloth.
The odd thing is that you never saw them with their husbands or boyfriends, but somehow it was quite obvious that they had men in their lives. There were clues, some obvious, others more subtle. Huge diamond wedding and eternity rings sparking across the room, fat shiny cars in the car park and that general air of married affluence.
It was easy to assume that their husbands were scattered across the County lining their pockets in law, medicine, stock broking and underwriting. These were, Simon thought, the quintessentially English ‘ladies that lunch’, and they had the wardrobes to prove it.
Simon looked up from his latte, wiping the foam from his top lip. Louise had moved her hands from her chin, cradling her coffee cup for warmth. Her eyes were still on the ladies. One of them, with neat straight blonde haircut just above her shoulders caught her eye and smiled. Her red lips burst open into an open happy smile, lighting the room with her perfectly white teeth, and open warm expression.
Louise blushed, managed a small, nervous half smile and quickly turned away. A moment later she looked back to see this gorgeous woman still looking at her, still smiling. Louise composed herself, and this time smiled back without looking away. The woman gave her an acknowledging nod, just enough to signal her approval, and then turned back to her friends. Louise looked at her husband, but somehow, something had changed. Louse felt stronger, happier and more alive than she could ever remember. It was as if this stranger had given her a gift, just by acknowledging her presence.
Simon lent back, finished his coffee and stood up to leave.
“I haven’t finished Simon. Sit down!” Louise surprised herself. Normally she would just stand up, take a rushed last gulp and dutifully follow Simon to the car, picking up her bag and tennis racquets. But this wasn’t going to happen today. Today Simon was going to be a little bit more considerate.
Simon slowly sat back down, almost amused at the sheer ferocity of his wife’s outburst.
“Yes, of course dear. Take your time.”
Louise intended to. Twenty minutes later, placing her cup down she dabbed her lips with a napkin and looked up.
“Now I am ready Simon. Shall we go?”
Simon marched towards the door past the ladies and breezed out into the car park.
Louise once again made eye contact with the blonde lady as she passed their table.
“Hello there. Did you win?” Her voice was soft and clear.
“Urm, actually not. My husband is a bit too competitive to give me an easy game,” Louise replied, slightly startled by being spoken to by one of these lunching ladies.
“Ahh. Sounds to me like he needs taking in hand.”
“Indeed, but he is after all only a man.” Once again Louise surprised herself. This woman appeared to give her the confidence to assert herself, and even criticize her husband. She thought to herself once again. “What is happening to me?’
“Do you play tennis too?” Louise enquired.
“Very badly, I am afraid. I use the club mainly to meet up with the girls.” With this she gestured to the happily chatting ladies, who looked up and smiled at Louise.
“Hardly girls darling”, one of them quipped.
“My name is Charlotte. Nice to meet you”.
Louise took her hand and smiled.
“Louise. How do you do?”
“Come and join us next time. We meet usually Tuesday and Saturday for lunch at around 12. I mean, if you would like to?”
Louise saw her husband open the clubhouse door to see where she was. She looked up, feeling slightly annoyed by his presence, and gestured to him that she was on her way.
“Why not. That would be lovely. Next Tuesday would be great.”
“Excellent, and no men to hassle you Louise,” Charlotte said, looking towards Simon at the door.
“Indeed not” Louise replied crisply.
“Ladies, this is Louise and she is going to join our table on Thursday.”
They all smiled in approval. Louise felt a huge sense of warmth and taking Charlotte’s hand she said “I am really looking forward to it.”
Charlotte held her hand with both of hers and whispered. “We all know how to manage our men with clinical efficiency. Perhaps we can pass on some tips when we next meet.”
All the ladies stopped talking at that moment and looked at Louise. A dark haired in a Chanel suit put down a large glass of Sauvignon and looked up at Louise carefully with huge green eyes.
“We are quite ruthlessly efficient Louise, when we put our minds to it.”
Louise felt a rush of adrenalin. Who were these ladies? She could hardly tear herself away. She had so many lovely thoughts and feelings rushing through her. Excitement, a definite thrill, and a burning curiosity.
“Well, Tuesday then. enjoy the rest of your lunch.”
The ladies waved happily as Louise skipped to the door and walked slowly back to the car.
Simon was already sitting in the car, engine running, when she opened the back door and threw her bag inside. Then she had an idea. Entirely on impulse she also got into the back seat.
“I am going to send some texts Simon, you can drive me home now.”
Simon looked in the rear-view mirror. “Yes milady,” he retorted, pretending to doff his cap like Parker in Thunderbirds.
Louise scrolled down the screen of her i-phone checking her diary for Tuesday, and thought to herself. “Stupid man.” She noticed, with some surprise that her knickers were definitely a little damp.
On Tuesday morning Louise could hardly wait for Simon to leave for work. As he left the house she turned her cheek to his lips at the door. She had never done that before. Simon didn’t appear to notice this mild slight and with brief case in hand walked to the car, throwing his keys up into the air and catching them before he jumped in and drove off.
Louise rushed upstairs excitedly and retrieved two bags from under the spare room bed. They were expensive bags, solid rectangles of stiff card and each item was carefully wrapped in pink tissue. Louise sat on the bed and carefully took out the most expensive item of clothing she had ever purchased. A powder blue woolen suit by Armani, with a short jacket, heavily cinched in at the waist and a matching pencil skirt, with cream piping around the waistband and hem. The huge buttons on the jacket gave a witty, playful feel to the suit, which was lined in a very pale lemon silk.
In the second bag were again the most expensive pair of heels she had ever dared to purchase. Pale blue 5-inch stilettos with a chrome heel from Jimmy Choo. They were cut very low at the sides, with an open toe, giving them a racy, almost slutty look that Louise adored. There was something delicious about shoes that had so little to them and yet were so fabulously expensive. Louise felt empowered just holding them.
The rest of the morning was given over to a warm bath, lots of pampering and polishing, and at just after 11 0′clock she pulled her new skirt up over her stocking clad thighs, and feeling behind her pulled the zip up to the top and with her red painted nails, clipped the two hooks into their respective eyes.
Looking in the hall mirror as she left the house she smiled at her transformation. She just could not remember feeling so excited about a lunch before.
At the tennis club, she parked the car confidently with the other Mercedes and BMW’s, and checked her lip gloss one more time in the mirror, before swinging her long legs out of her Audi and walked to the clubhouse door, swinging her sparkling clasp bag confidently by her side.
The ladies were just assembling. There were three of them today, plus Louise.
Charlotte took Louise’s hands in hers and stepping back gave her a good look up and down.
“Well, Louise. Just look what you found under your lycra.”
Louise laughed happily.
“Now. Introductions. Sophie, this is Louise.” Sophie was tall lady in her late forties with a splendid thick blonde mane that she had tamed with two huge grip clips at the back. She was quite beautiful, with high cheekbones and the most engaging smile.
“Welcome to our humble party. It is so nice to have new people to talk to.” Sophie’s accent was refined and controlled. Louise warmed to her immediately
“…and finally our very own Tilly. “
Tilly had a short dark bob that framed her face perfectly. Her complexion was very pale, almost heroin chic, and her blood red lips gave her an almost vampire-like appearance.
Tilly took Louise by the arm theatrically and led her to their table. She lent against her new companion, and in a loud voice she confided. “Whatever you do darling, do not get drawn into our hideous company. We will turn you into a very bad person indeed.”
Tilly lent her head closer to Tilly and as their hair touched she replied. “But I want to be bad, very very bad.”
Lunch was a happy affair. Louise described her life in Surrey, her lapsed career in advertising, and her love of the theatre.
Over pudding, Louise saw Charlotte catch the eye of Tilly, who nodded, almost imperceptibly. She got the impression that she was about to be let into some big secret.
“Are you happy with Simon dear?” Charlotte asked, almost casually, delicately picking up a raspberry from her plate and placing it between her lips. Her eyebrows curled upwards in anticipation of Louise’s reply. All three women looked at Louise carefully.
Louise felt comfortable in her new friends company. They had been so open and friendly, and seemed to show a genuine interest in her. She felt seduced into being completely honest, and really wanted to be.
“Well. I guess like all men he can be a bit selfish sometimes, and he tends to treat me a bit like a member of staff, which is just infuriating.” Louise couldn’t believe that she just said that. It felt almost confessional.
Tilly spoke first.
“Just like all men. That is interesting Louise. Because our husbands are definitely not at all like ‘all men’, as you say.”
“Indeed not” said Sophie.
Louise looked up from the remains of her marinaded pear, intrigued.
“Perhaps you and Simon would care to come to dinner this Saturday Louise,” Charlotte said. Tilly will also be there with her husband.
“I’m skiing, in case you think I am being excluded.’ Sophie said, slowly wiggling her spoon in the air to attract Louises’s attention.”
“That’s why we chose the date, silly girl” Charlotte retorted with a wicked grin. Sophie burst out laughing and the whole afternoon drifted on happily until 4pm.
Later that evening, Sophie sat curled up on the sofa with a small brandy, watching television. She had changed into a simple day dress and slippers.
Running her finger around the rim She told Simon that they had been invited to dinner on Saturday.
“Who with?” Simon sat on the edge of the same sofa, legs apart scooping a fist full of dry roasted peanuts into his palm and dropping them into his mouth. Louise felt repulsed.
“Charlotte and Tilly, and their husbands. I had lunch with them today at the tennis club.
“Oh, you mean the ‘ladies what lunch’. I didn’t know you knew them.?”
Louise remained calm. She was not going to outwitted in this conversation.
“Well, as a matter of fact I had lunch with them today, and they are very nice. I think it would be nice to see them. Meet some new friends for a change.”
Simon looked across at Louise. He felt, not for the first time over the last week, a sense of Louise’s new found assertiveness, and it gave him an uncomfortable feeling.
Louise continued to run her finger around the rim , and then, dabbing the liquid with her finger sucked a drop in between her lips.
“That is settled then. A Saturday night out for a change.”
Simon turned back to the television, and for the second time in a week felt his confidence ebb away a little bit.
Louise picked up the remote and changed channels, casually dropping the remote onto her lap. Simon looked at her angrily, but he could see that his wife was not in a mood for compromise this evening.
“I was watching that,” he said sulkily.
“O dear. How annoying for you.” Louise was enjoying herself now, and smiled into her brandy glass.
On Saturday Louise went shopping. She was determined to look fabulous and spent most of the day in London, searching for something yummy to wear. She sat sipping a coffee in Selfridges when a text arrived from Charlotte.
‘So looking forward seeing you both. Hope you are a bit broadminded. xx’
Louise stared at the screen, and a thousand thoughts rushed through her head all at once. She had no idea how to respond.
‘Can’t wait. How broad do I need to be?’ Louise hesitated momentarily before pressing send. Then with a small thrill she sent it. She stared at the screen like a teenage lover aching for response, and then it arrived.
“Didn’t mean to spook you darling. It is just our husbands are, how shall I put it, quite obedient. See you later xx.”
Louise put her phone into her bag quickly, as if to hide some guilty secret. What on earth was going on, she thought. Finishing her coffee she took the escalator down to ground level and spent far too much at the Liz Earle counter before taking the tube back to West Kensington to prepare for the evening.
Lying in the bath that evening Louise wiped the condensation off the cold tap with her toe, and then stretched it out in front of her pointing her foot like a ballet dancer.
‘Quite obedient’ she thought, running a flannel up and down her extended leg. Why would anyone call their husbands quite obedient. For the first time since Tuesday she felt a certain anxiety about this evening. These women were so, what is the word, polished. Louise wondered whether she had made a mistake accepting this invitation. Yet, lunch on Tuesday had been such fun, and she had adored getting dressed up. It felt so decadent, and was so far removed from the normal humdrum existence of the last few years. She felt alive, valued and confident again, and yet she just couldn’t quite understand why.
They arrived at 8.20, which felt just about right. Charlotte opened the door and with practiced ease welcomed them both inside. The hall was large and airy with a well-worn marble floor and a curious stuffed crow in a gilded cage prominently displayed on a side table.
“Darling, you look quite divine, she said, kissing Louise warmly on each cheek and taking her wrap off her shoulders. Simon stood there, slightly awkwardly. He wasn’t exactly ignored, but he did feel a little less welcome than Louise.
“Nice bird’ he quipped, looking at the cage.
Charlotte took Louise by the hand and squeezing it warmly, and led her into the drawing-room. She chose to ignore Simon’s comment.
Tilly had already arrived, and rose from the sofa as the new guest arrived.
“Hi Louise. Wow you do look gorgeous.”
“Thank you. I really love this dress too.” Louise replied, turning 360° like a model. For the first time that evening Simon noticed just how well Louise was dressed, and instead of pride he felt a slight twang of inadequacy.
Simon once again stood awkwardly behind his wife, waiting to be introduced. But it didn’t happen.
“Hello, I’m Simon, Louise’s husband.” He said eventually. Tilly looked him up and down and then said after a long pause: -
“Indeed. The boys are upstairs. Perhaps it would be best if you joined them.” Her tone was clipped and withering. She made Simon feel that he had committed some unforgivable offence by daring to address her. Unbeknown to either of them at that particular moment, that is precisely what he had done.
“Run along Simon, there’s a good boy, Charlotte added, gesturing to the door.”
Simon laughed, as if this was some kind of practical joke. But, for some reason, he left the room, half thinking that he may feel more comfortable in the company of Charlotte and Tilly’s husbands.
Back in the hall the crow’s eyes followed him as he climbed the broad staircase to the large Edwardian landing. The house was large and well maintained. A number of original Edwardian features had been retained, but supplemented with some quirky modern furnishings, and subtle pastel colours on the walls. It felt as if a lot of time and money had been invested to create a very beautiful home indeed.
Following the sound of voices he knocked timidly at a door on the opposite side of the galleried landing.
A high-pitched, effeminate voice replied. “Come in Simon.’
Nothing could have prepared Simon for what happened next.
Inside, a girl sat with her back to the door at a dressing table brushing her shoulder length blonde hair. She wore the prettiest white lace panties and a matching bra. Simon noticed how slender she was, and the sweet scent of perfume in the air. On the bed, wrapped in a pale pink negligee sat another girl, with golden ringlets, filing her nails slowly with a bright pink file. She wore a pair of backless heels, decorated with two fluffy pink pom-poms, and had shocking pink varnish on her toenails.
“Oh, sorry. I was looking for Charlotte’s husband,” Simon exclaimed backing towards the door. The blonde girl turned round, and took a long look at Simon over her shoulder.
“Here I am. Do come in. I’m Peter, and this is Tom.”
“But…you are girls! I don’t quite understand.” Tom looked troubled and anxious.
“Well, not exactly,” Charlotte said, emphasizing each syllable as if to make an important distinction. We are, how shall I put it, feminized as distinct from female. They were both looking at Simon now.
Tom spoke. “Is that clearer now Simon?”
“But why. I don’t understand. This is all a bit heavy for me I am afraid.”
Tom smiled sweetly. ” We are simply obeying our wives orders. They require us to be feminine, so we are, well, feminine.”
“But, surely you have a choice. Can’t you just say no?”
Charlotte called up from the hall. “Forty minutes Peter.”
“Yes dear.” Peter’s voice was submissive and anxious.
“We need to get ready Simon. Your dress is over there.”
Peter pointed to an incredibly short pink party dress hanging on the wardrobe door, with pink ribbons all around the hem, covered in sequins and layer upon layer of taffeta and net petticoats.
Simon just looked at Peter with incredulity.
“You have got to be joking. You don’t think for one moment that….”
Charlotte’s voice interrupted Simon in mid-flow. She stood in the doorway, arms folded leaning against the frame.
“You don’t think for one moment what exactly, Simon?”
Simon turned around sharply. What on earth was going on?
Charlotte walked slowly into the room followed by Tilly. Peter and Tom busied themselves around the dressing table, helping each other with their pink stockings, and putting on their long dangly earrings. They did not make eye contact with either ladies.
They both listened fearfully, knowing how catastrophically badly Simon was handling the situation. They remembered how they too had fought against this at the beginning, but even more vividly they remember how well their wives dealt with their resistance. Charlotte had called it her shock and awe tactic, where the punishments for resisting her demands were so awful that they eclipsed even the most awful instructions.
Charlotte had learnt this technique in Germany in the 1990′s. She remembers a Mistress she shared a flat with in Berlin, who made her subs perform the most extraordinary acts, and she asked her why they just didn’t run away. That evening in a dark, hot nightclub she saw why, and it was a lesson that had stayed with her ever since.
“You have just 25 minutes left girls.” Charlotte whispered, watching Peter and Tom fuss over their lip-gloss and mascara, sitting cheek to cheek on the dressing table stool amongst a clutter of eyebrow pencils, mascara, lipsticks and perfumes.
Simon looked a little apprehensive as Charlotte approached him from the doorway, and he was taken aback by her confident body language. Hands behind her back, shoulders back, she walked towards him fearlessly and in complete control. Simon hardly noticed Tilly slip behind him, and as Charlotte stood eye to eye in front of him, he cowered backwards like a submissive dog. As he retreated he felt his arms being gripped tightly and twisted backwards. Charlotte slipped a simple collar over his head, and with Tilly holding him in a vice like grip they marched him on tiptoe out of their husband’s bedroom, down the corridor and into a large paneled billiards room. . At the end of the room he saw his wife seated on a platform, with a small table by her side. Her legs were crossed and she looked relaxed and in control with a gin and tonic in her hand.
In front of her, hanging from the ceiling were two short lengths of chain, each ending in a large sprung shackle. Tilly pushed him forwards towards his wife and stopped between the two chains, bending his arms back behind him so he bowed forward, letting out a squeal of pain.
Louise picked up a pair of heavy leather cuffs from the table and without getting up, handed them coolly to Charlotte.
“Thank you my dear,” Charlotte said, nodding appreciatively at her friend.
“What in heaven’s name is happening? Let me GO,” Simon shouted, struggling to straighten himself and wriggle free from Tilly’s grip. The more he struggled the higher Tilly lifted his arms, causing him to lean even further forward and be even more uncomfortable.
Charlotte took this opportunity to attach each cuff carefully to Simon’s wrists, pulling the two buckles on each wrist tightly. Tilly then wrenched his arms up wards, allowing Charlotte to clip each cuff to a shackle and finally let him go.
Simon rolled his arms forward so he, at last, felt more comfortable and stood on tiptoe, hanging awkwardly, desperately treading around to take some pressure off his wrists.
Simon looked at his wife, sitting impassively in front him. He hardly recognized her. She looked stunning, fabulous even. He felt again a strange feeling of inadequacy. But it was her manner that was so odd. She was so cool towards him, so controlled.
In fact that was far from the case. Charlotte and Tilly had told her they were going to have a bit of fun tonight, and that she should just sit on this ‘throne’ and not show any emotion at all.
“That, darling, will drive Simon mad, and I promise you will love how empowered you feel. Trust us. Just treat the evening as a bit of theatre, ok?”
“Are you just going to sit their Louise? Help me!” Simon looked agitated and hot.
Charlotte stood in front of Tilly and came close to Simon’s face. He looked at her momentarily, and then looked away. This woman was able to dominate him completely with just a simple gaze. He simply couldn’t make eye contact again, and stared at her neck, feeling her warm breath on his face.
“Scissors please Tilly. ” Tilly placed a long, sharp pair of tailor’s scissors in Charlotte’s upturned hand.
“Now Simon. You are going to learn some rules about respect. Some very important rules indeed.”
As she spoke, she opened the blades and slowly and methodically cut his shirt, through the cuff, snip, snip, snip, up the arm, and through the collar on both sides. Tilly pulled the pieces away, dropping them on the floor. Louise sipped her drink, placing it back on the side table.
The clock in the hall struck 9pm, and Charlotte stopped.
“How time flies. Fetch them here Tilly. It is time to show Louise how much fun you can have with a husband.”
Tilly left the room as Charlotte, standing in front of Simon again, slowly unbuckled his belt, and then cut diagonally, through the waistband and across the front of Simon’s crotch. Simon felt the blades open and close, as Charlotte cut. Snip, snip, snip, down his inner thigh, down his calf and finally through the hem. Then up the other side, snip snip, snip, until the ragged pieces slipped to the floor.
Tilly opened the boy’s bedroom and smiled. Sitting on the edge of the bed were the sweetest, most delightful sissy girls imaginable, swinging their pretty legs backwards and forwards and holding each other hands.
Peter looked up at Tilly with huge loving eyes, his wet, glossed lips trembling, mouth slightly open. He fluttered his long, false eyelashes coyly and with his free hand patted the back of his head, adjusting his golden ringlets neatly over his shoulder.
“Time for games girls”. As Tilly spoke the boys looked at each other adoringly, and Tom lifted his frilly, gloved hand to Peter’s blushed cheek, and kissed him softly on his top lip. Tilly smiled and sighed audibly, tilting her head as if to frame the sweet moment. Peter stood first. The hem of his party dress sprung free, barely covering his tummy. It was the shortest skirt imaginable, displaying layer after layer of stiff taffeta petticoat underneath. He looked adorable. As he turned and bent down to help Tom up, he exposed an exquisite pair of cream and pink frilly knickers to Miss Tilly.
Tom held out his hand, palm down, showing his long painted nails, and Peter softly caressed Tom’s fingers as he stood up on his four-inch glittering silver heels.
Still holding each other’s hands, they hesitantly followed Tilly as she turned and walked back to the billiards room. The boys watched Miss Tilly’s tight pencil skirt, her curvaceous bottom wriggling down the corridor, her perfectly straight seams, and the long sensual, cruel line of her calves leading down towards the beautiful symmetry of her stilettos.
The boys curtsied to Miss Charlotte, and seeing Miss Louise sitting coolly on her throne, blushed and looked down in embarrassment.
“Kneel either side of Miss Louise girls. ” Charlotte’s voice was hushed, her words spoken with absolute authority. The girls obeyed, kneeling on the platform either side of Miss Louise, their eyes down, intensely aware off the naked, writhing body of Simon in front of them.
Charlotte turned back to Simon, and lifted her hand towards Tilly, who placed the handle of a long thin crop in her upturned palm, looking directly into his eyes. Once again Simon had to look away.
“You do not address me, or any other woman unless you are given a direct order to do so. Is that absolutely crystal clear Simon?”
Simon struggled again, and looked up at Miss Charlotte with a look of fear in his eyes.
“What on earth is happening here? Let me go, this is ridiculous, let me go!” Simon continued to struggle, but he could see that there was no way he could break free.
Charlotte lifted her gloved hand and with a vice like grip squeezed his chin between her thumb and forefinger, digging into his cheek, making his mouth pucker stupidly.
” I can see that you are not listening to me Simon. That is a very serious mistake. Now, once again, you do not ever address me unless I expressly instruct you to do so.”
Charlotte leaned forward, lifting his head up, pressing even harder into his cheeks. She put her lips to his ear and whispered: -
“You are going to be taught a lesson in obedience Simon. Then we can begin your new life properly.”
Something about Charlotte’s tone, for the first time, truly terrified Simon, and he stopped struggling. His mouth was beginning to go numb, and he could feel himself dribbling down his chin.
Charlotte stood back, and slowly pulled her leather gloves tightly onto each hand, wriggling her fingers provocatively, moving the crop from hand to hand. She then slowly circled him. He shivered as she moved behind him, and he felt the tip of the crop as Charlotte traced a line around his chest, down his back and between his buttocks. His mouth went dry and he found it hard to swallow.
Louise, seated in front of him, elbows on the side of her throne, pressed the fingers of each hand together, and looked directly into his eyes totally without expression, crossing her legs slowly, teasingly, in absolute control of her emotions. Her heart was racing, and she could feel her neck flush, but she had never ever felt like this before. She felt completely alive, empowered and thrilled by the scene in front of her.
The tension in the room was palpable. Simon could hear the blood rushing through his ears. Tilly placed her hands on her hips and nodded.
A rush of air, then a loud crack. Simon whelped and thrust his buttocks forward instinctively. He found himself putting all his weight on the cuffs above his head, desperate to move away from the pain, and could feel the tops of his toes on the wooden floor. A wave of agony seared across his buttocks and he let out a high-pitched whelp, almost pitiful in its intensity.
Before he could catch breath another crack, this time across the back of his thighs. Simon spun round, as Charlotte raised the crop across her left shoulder and brought it down backhanded across his groin. Simon’s vision blurred, he had never experienced such unrelenting pain. He felt his hot tears running down his cheeks and let out an almost continuous high-pitched squeal.
Charlotte continued, raining down blow after blow. She remained cool, detached and calm. Every 10 seconds another blow came, one after the other, criss-crossing his buttocks and thighs. Long white marks, started to colour like pick-up-sticks around his body, turning pink, then red, purple and black. At last Charlotte paused. Legs apart, hands on hips she stood din front of Simon. She looked magnificent, proud, in tight leather trousers and knee length boots. Her black top clinging tightly around her waist, displaying her exquisite curves.
Simon took several minutes before he was able to pull himself back onto his feet and and stood up, knees bent, leaning heavily on the rope above his head for support. His eyes were red and puffy with tears, and his legs were shaking uncontrollably. He took on the grey pallor of a man in considerable pain. Charlotte, Till and Louise listened carefully. Had Simon learnt his first lesson. At last Simon raised his head, his hair wet and matted, sticking to his forehead. He looked at his wife, who looked at him intently, then across at Charlotte, her bosom still heaving from the exertion.
Another minute passed. Still silence. Another minute. Tilly held a long, heavy wooden paddle in both hands, like an offering. Simon saw the cruel, polished implement and shuddered. He knew he couldn’t take anymore. Another minute passed, then another. Simon could hear the blood rushing through his ears.
“Do you now understand the consequences of disobedience Simon?”
Again Charlotte spoke in a barely audible whisper, adding to the intensity of the moment, making Simon concentrate hard to understand each word.
A moment passed, then Simon nodded. He knew that something had been broken inside, and between sobs you could just make out the words.
“Yes Miss Charlotte. Thank you Miss Charlotte.”
Charlotte turned to the kneeling girls. They had knelt in silence throughout Simon’s ordeal. Both of them knew the terrifying consequences of disobedience from their own personal experiences. They listened to the sickening blows, each one making them wince, feeling such pity for dear Simon. How much they wanted to tell him not to struggle, not to answer back. Just to stay silent at all costs. But they were just Sissies now. They had no opinions, no authority, no influence. They were there to serve their wives, and to be pretty and feminine at all times, and spend their entire waking hours in the pursuit of vacuous girly thoughts. They were fragile and confused, and they had grown to love their frilly, narrow little world, and took great comfort in each other’s company. Perfect sissy sisters.
“Take Simon to your bedroom . You may explain things. Up, up!”
Charlotte gestured to the girls. They rose slowly, knees together, and stood, one leg in front of the other, holding the hem of their ridiculously short party dresses out each side, pinched between fore-finger and thumb. They both curtsied and blushed, their mouths pouting spontaneously, with their quivering painted lips shining under the harsh lighting.
“We shall expect you in the drawing room at 11.30.”
“Yes Miss Charlotte, thank you Miss Charlotte.” the girls responded in unison, with well rehearsed sing-song voices, emphasizing the first syllable of Miss Charlotte’s Christian name with each sentence.
The ladies filed out of the billiards room and made their way downstairs to dinner. Peter and Tom waited until they heard the clatter of heels on the parquet flooring in the hall, and then busied themselves gently releasing Simon from his shackles and supporting him on each side as the took him slowly back to Peter’s bedroom.
The girls entered the drawing room excitedly and Charlotte closed the door behind her back, with one finger against her lips.
“Shhhhh. No giggling. Her face was beaming with excitement. Tilly grabbed Louise by the arm warmly.
“You were amazing Louise. Incredible. Your first time and, honestly, you just didn’t blink once.” Tilly shook her head as she spoke.
“I am so proud of you. You will go far.” Tilly added, hugging her and kissing her softly on the cheek.
Louise just shook her head, holding a hand to her mouth.
“I honestly don’t know how I did that. It was such a rush. The more I controlled my emotions the more empowering the experience became..”
Louise looked at Charlotte.
“You are a Goddess. Simon isn’t even able to maintain eye contact with you. He is terrified of you. I have never seen him so defeated.” Louise smiled at Charlotte, in complete admiration.
“You did well today Louise. But that is just he very beginning. I am going to suggest that you stay over tonight so we can continue at the same intensity until tomorrow night. You will need some strategies in place to deal with Simon once you get him home, and it is going to take time before he is broken properly. Only then can you start to re-build him as you would wish him to be.”
“I am a little afraid he might take his anger out on me, if I am honest.”
Tilly spoke first.
“Let me assure you darling, once Charlotte has had a few more sessions with him, he wouldn’t dare disobey you.”
“Well, that is true, but don’t scare our new playmate TIlly. This is after all for all our amusement.. Now, lets dine and then the boys will come down and we can relax and have some fun into the small hours.”
At exactly 11.30 there was a timid tap on the drawing-room door. Charlotte and Louise were seated at each end of a large sofa, their legs tucked up underneath their thighs, relaxed and happy, sipping wine. Tilly sat on the arm of an armchair gesticulating wildly as she described the last set of a match she won at the club the day before.
Tilly stopped and looked at the door, and then over to Charlotte, who looked at her friend with a knowing smile. They both turned to Louise, who sensing something was about to happen, once again assumed her cool demeanor.
“Well…,” Charlotte said quietly, I think that we are ready , don’t you ladies?”
Louise and Tilly nodded, smiling broadly, and then immediately all three ladies reverted to the haughty, almost cruel expressions they reserved for their men folk.
Tilly topped up Louise and Charlotte’s glass and sat down in her armchair, legs crossed. The seats were arranged facing a small Victorian oak stage at the end of the drawing room, opposite the French windows. You could imagine the hundreds of little playlets and arias that had been performed over the years, entertaining the various occupants of Charlotte’s drafty, characterful villa. High ceilings added to the sense of drama, together with the two spotlights focused on the centre of the stage, which could be accessed from either side via two small sets of steps.
“Come in girls.” Charlotte’s voice sounded perhaps just a little thick, and Louise wondered, just for a moment if perhaps this was exciting her more than she was letting on.
The door opened slowly.
Charlotte’s husband walked in first, holding Tilly’s husband’s dear little gloved hands softly between her fingers and thumb. They moved slowly but elegantly on 5-inch heels, heads down, bashful and blushing and shuffled up together in front of the three ladies, side by side.
As they had been taught, they held the hems of their tiny dresses up each side, exposing acres of frothy petticoats, and their frilly knickers, stockings and suspenders. They curtsied deeply in perfect unison and waited in silence whilst their wives and Louise inspected them lazily from the sofa.
“Did you explain some things to Simon, Peter?” Charlotte spoke slowly, looking at her nails as she spoke and then up into Peter’s eyes.
“Yes Miss. He now knows how offensive his behaviour was Miss. He understands that happiness comes from obedience, but I fear that his education has some way to go Miss, before..before…”
“Yes indeed before,” Charlotte interrupted dismissively. Now girls, on stage, we wish to see you behaving prettily for us. Show Louise how nice it is to have a sissy sister to care for.
Both girls turned to each other, and smiled at each other. Tom closed his eyes momentarily, his long eyelashes fluttering showing the beautiful eye shadow that matched his party dress perfectly. The girls almost skipped to the stage, helping each other up the stairs. Tom had to stop at the top and adjust his suspender belt, re-attaching his stocking top carefully, and looked behind to ensure his seams were perfectly straight.
As he stood up and turned to Peter, he felt his hand brush his ringlets behind his ears, and gasped as their shiny mouths met. Tom could taste Peter’s lip-gloss, sweet and fragrant, and he pulled teasingly on Peter’s top lip.
“Darling Sis’” he whispered, feeling the front of his frilly panties tighten as a wave of gorgeous femininity rolled over him. He loved the feeling of his sister’s petticoats tickling the front of his panties, and the wonderful rustle of material as they groped and writhed together on stage.
“Be a good girl now Tom. Show me how loving you are.” Tilly addressed her husband directly, and he knew at once how the evening was going to go.
Slowly and softly Tom pulled away from his kiss and kneeled down in front of his sister, letting her petticoats tickle his face and then spring up over the top of his head as he settled in front of her panties. Tom closed his eyes, in blissful anticipation, and could hardly contain his sissy, girly thoughts. He was ready to explode with joy.
Louise looked at the stage, eyes wide open, unable to fully take in the extraordinary scene in front of her. Her mind was racing. She thought about Simon. Could he, no surely not, she thought. Then smiled to herself. Oh yes he bloody would, she determined, and sat back to enjoy the show.
The stage, spattered with sissy cum, still wet and shiny, stood empty. The girls had retired to their room exhausted and happy long ago, and Louise, relaxed and slightly tipsy, lay back on the sofa listening to Tilly and Charlotte’s tales of humiliation and embarrassment, and how they had used a combination of seduction, punishment and reward to finally break their husbands down and re-build them as the completely sissified, effeminate submissive girlies that they now were.