Silken Servitude Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Also by Christina Shelly

  Title Page

  Part One: Induction

  1. Trainee Housemaids

  2. Ms Blakemore

  3. A Philosophy of Desire

  4. Visions of the Future

  Part Two: Changelings

  5. Recovery

  6. Discovery

  7. An Evening with Mistress Eleanor

  8. An Interlude with Myriam

  9. The Ball

  Copyright

  About the Book

  Pretty she-male Shelly has had her secret dreams of domination and feminisation fulfilled by Aunt Jane. Yet her willing slavery has taken a new and even more kinky turn with her induction into the Bigger Picture, a secret society of female dominants dedicated to the world wide subjugation of the male. In this intensely erotic and exciting sequel to the Company of Slaves, we discover a plot to turn the entire male sex into helpless sissy slaves and follow Shelly’s final journey into a realm of total silken servitude.

  Also by Christina Shelly

  THE LAST STRAW

  SILKEN SLAVERY

  COMPANY OF SLAVES

  SILKEN

  SERVITUDE

  Christina Shelly

  Part One: Induction

  1

  Trainee Housemaids

  A MONTH HAS passed since our release from the Nursery. It is four weeks today since Pansy and I were freed from exquisite baby bondage and allowed to take up our new roles as trainee housemaids in the Sissy Maids Company. Under the watchful eyes of our mistresses, we have been expertly transformed into she-male slaves, our only purpose to serve and bring pleasure to womankind. We are willing slaves: this elaborate regime of female domination is one we accept with a pure fierce enthusiasm. Thanks to the careful preparations of my beautiful Aunt Jane, the glorious woman who originally feminised us and then agreed our imprisonment in this strange kinky castle of submission, we were already well versed in the perverse joys of sissy servitude.

  Today is Friday, and on Friday afternoons, for a few wondrous hours, we are freed from the usual elaborate restraints that are our near constant companions and allowed to be together in a most intimate and exciting way, to be together as the sissy lovers our mistresses are so very determined we become. We are enveloped in each other’s arms on the large double bed that dominates the circular room we have shared since our release from the Nursery. I stare hungrily at Pansy’s large unrestrained sex and contemplate wrapping my cherry-red lips around the purple stem of this beautiful sex flower. I run my hands over the semi-transparent pink silk of her sexy baby doll night-dress and she moans with a dark angry pleasure. I remember the first time we experienced the joys of each other’s helplessly petite bodies when we were both still male, locked in a school storeroom, astonished by a homo-erotic need whose true expression was to be found in a regime of strict feminisation overseen by my gorgeous Aunt and Pansy’s cruel beautiful guardian, Ms Hartley. A vision of Ms Hartley’s tall prim form ignites in my tormented mind and my sex, already rock hard, seeks a place beyond rigidity, an explosive release whose final expression is something like death. I kiss Pansy’s soft moist lips and taste her own powerful need; I stare with an addict’s desperate longing into her pretty wide blue eyes and remember those incredible days leading up to our entry into the Sissy Maids Company.

  Brought up by my ‘Aunt’, actually a close friend of my long-dead mother and father, I had been a pampered and isolated young man. Handsome maybe, intelligent certainly, I lived in a world dominated by my Aunt, an ex-model in her late forties who had remained stunningly beautiful. It was she who had discovered my secret longing for all aspects of the feminine and the powerful transvestite desire this inspired. And it was she who had guided me on the road from her ‘nephew’ Michael to her sissy niece, Michele, or, as I came to be known, Shelly. And it was she, as I have noted, who encouraged my strange friendship with Dominic and, with Ms Hartley’s help, his rapid transformation into Pansy. And it was she who had introduced me to the amazing Lady Emily Ashcroft and the startling conspiracy of beautiful dominant women that was the Bigger Picture.

  I run my hands over Pansy’s shapely pink nylon-stockinged thighs and she moans with a kitten’s sensual animal pleasure. My hands move beyond the stocking tops to her soft silky-smooth upper thighs. She gasps and her soft submissive smile widens and the glaze of desire covering her lovely eyes thickens: the smooth utterly hairless skin of her body is ultra-sensitive thanks to the potent medical treatments of the last four weeks. Her cock twitches. My hands work towards her fat bulging testicles and the small silver ring that has been attached to the flap of skin at the base of her scrotum by her gorgeous training mistress, the fierce redheaded dominatrix Anne, one of the founders of the Sissy Maids Company. Her nipples are also ringed, and diamond studs have been fitted to her left nostril and into her unbearably cute navel. I share this elaborately kinky body decoration, thanks to the perverse creativity of my own mentor, Ms Amelia Blakemore, the School’s beautiful and endlessly imaginative matron.

  I stroke Pansy’s balls and she squeals with pleasure. I think of the first time I met the amazing Emily Ashcroft and became aware of the startling project of the Bigger Picture: the complete feminisation of the male sex and the establishment of a new world order of female domination. In many ways an absurd and bizarre project that had left many powerful and foolish men laughing contemptuously. But Lady Ashcroft, a former Tory peer, was quite serious. She had left the House of Lords and sought out like-minded women across the world. And there were very many of them. Thanks to a chance encounter, she met Helen Blaine, a beautiful determined woman, who had, with the assistance of two close friends (and lovers) already started the erotic transformation of a weak but helplessly pretty male into a sissy sex slave. Indeed, Helen’s great genius had been to see, quite independently of the Bigger Picture, that there was a real commercial opportunity in the sissification of the male. In a world of violent, angry and power-hungry men, women wanted love and respect; they also wanted liberation through control. Helen had founded the Sissy Maids Company for these women. Initially, it was little more than a local neighbour-hood entertainment for her friends. Using just two transvestite slaves, SMC provided domestic and personal services for a handful of enlightened females. Yet the demand grew very quickly, and soon they were offering the services of a growing team of mainly male (but also female) slaves to women over a much broader geographical area. Thanks to the Internet and the patronage of Lady Ashcroft and her supporters, the Sissy Maids Company became a national enterprise within a year, and a crucial part of the global ambitions of the Bigger Picture. Lady Ashcroft’s spectacular country mansion became the SMC training academy, and it is in the underground chambers of this glorious house that I am now teasing my sissy love, Pansy, towards a bout of prolonged sexual adventure.

  I take her large boiling hard cock in my left hand. I feel a pounding pulse. She widens her long feminine legs and raises her pert girlish bottom. I smile at her and slowly lick the blood-red-nailed index finger of my left hand. Then I slip it beneath her balls and seek out her very well-stretched and eager arsehole. Normally, our sexes would be tightly restrained with a tight pink rubber sheath and three cruel cock rings, and our arses would be firmly plugged with fat, long and very hard vibrators. But this afternoon, we are free of all restraint. Access is open and total. My finger slips into her anus and she screams with delight.

  ‘Oh please, Shelly … please!’

  In the past few weeks, I have come to realise the true nature and size of the Bigger Picture project. At first, I took it to be a small political party with a very narrow focus, but now I understand it to b
e a global political movement with many powerful female members. A movement with the finances to establish sophisticated networks of enforced feminisation in every major industrial nation; a movement with access deep into established political infrastructures; a movement able to fund a research and development programme that has produced new techniques of ‘stealth feminisation’, the most striking and effective of which is Senso.

  Senso is the key to it all: a fabric whose chemical make-up has been purposefully designed to impact on the hormonal balance of the male and produce feelings that associate submissiveness and feminine behaviour with sexual excitation. Senso: the fabric that will lead the Bigger Picture to eventual global domination. Senso: the fabric that is already being sold through a micro site of the SMC website – ‘Christina’s Silken Slavery’ – in the form of elaborate and beautiful fetish wear for transvestites and other slaves. A fabric that is also, thanks to Lady Ashscroft’s connections in the world of fashion and design, being secretly incorporated into a vast variety of everyday male clothing and thus establishing the psychological foundation for a truly global women’s movement. Not one based on outdated notions of equality and justice, concepts that have been blown away by the realities of modern history, but on firm concepts rooted in the control of destructive male urges and the exercise of female power through the dictatorship of the feminine. Concepts embodied in the principles of the Femocracy.

  ‘You know I love these moments,’ Pansy whispers, her voice hoarse with dark desire, her eyes tightly closed. ‘To be free of bondage.’

  I smile and push my finger deeper. ‘But you love your bondage as well … surely.’

  She gasps and returns my smile. ‘Oh yes. So very much, my love.’

  Most nights, our mistresses ensure that we sleep together in this bed, but hardly ever free from restraint. No: most nights Pansy and I are secured in slender pink Senso body stockings, our cocks tightly restrained, vibrators buzzing furiously in our tender sissy arses. There a number of types of Senso, and the body stockings are cut from the type that most resembles sheer nylon. This thin delicate material torments our ultra-sensitive and utterly hairless bodies, which are much more susceptible to the chemical impact of Senso than the average male body. Even after nearly thirty nights of its special embrace, we squeal with a fundamental pleasure as the soft material is drawn up our feminised forms. Over the stockings go rubber sleep-sacks, skintight from toe to neck, imprisoning and immobilising our deliciously tormented sissy forms. In our sissy mouths are stuffed the soiled panties of our many mistresses, fat pungent gags that are held in place with thick strips of pink adhesive tape. Over our heads are pulled sheer pink Senso stockings, plunging us into a fetish wear netherworld of fierce and bottomless desire. Then, utterly helpless, driven mad by kinky she-male desire, with the vibrators buzzing at full power in our ultra-sensitised arses, we are left side by side on the bed – so close but so far – to contemplate the day’s events and the joy of our absolute and inescapable submission to womankind and the philosophy of the Bigger Picture.

  I revel in the pleasure I am giving her and in my own expertly crafted femininity. Like her, I am wearing a semi-transparent baby doll. Mine is a shimmering white, as are my panties (which, unlike Pansy’s, have not been removed), and my stockings. All my sexy attire is, of course, cut from various varieties of Senso, and my silky sissy form burns with submissive feminine desire as I pleasure the gorgeous, helpless she-male beauty. Her powerful musky perfume washes over my own heavily scented form and I place another soft delicate kiss on her beautiful lips. Our tongues touch and our mouths widen. She screams with pleasure as my finger goes even deeper into her back passage, and her cock presses into my other teasing hand.

  My eyes fall on the small but very apparent orbs that are her nascent breasts. A daily cocktail of hormones and other very special chemicals have seen our skin soften, our breasts grow and our hips broaden. Very soon, we will both be subject to complex surgical procedures that will leave us both with large ultra-sensitive breasts, a thought that drives me wild with sexual anticipation, and which I know Pansy is looking forward to with an equal enthusiasm.

  ‘I can’t wait until I can kiss your new breasts,’ I whisper, ‘until I can suckle you.’

  She moans her deep inescapable need and I plant a kiss on her left rosebud through the erotic Senso material of the baby doll.

  ‘And I’m sure Taylor will be thrilled when he sees you fully feminised.’

  She nods and smiles, her eyes wide with sex need, her mind filled with thoughts of her training master.

  Under the terms of our training regime, the first four weeks have been spent as trainee housemaids. We will soon undergo a period of physical alteration – the Operation – before being entered on the full-blown maid placement scheme, and, if we perform well on our placements, we achieve full graduation. Then, it is planned that Pansy and I will be returned to Aunt Jane’s house. Here, we will help to establish a West Country branch of the Sissy Maids Company, aided by Ms Hartley and the headmistress of my ex-School, Ms Henrietta Blunt, together with Ms Blunt’s two beautiful daughters, Juliette and Justine.

  As I continue to cover Pansy in sweet sissy kisses, I think of Justine. My sex twitches and stretches and a gasp of terrible need slips from my mouth. Beautiful regal mysterious Justine, a young woman of my own age, a woman who made it clear she intends to become my true and final mistress. The woman who, I know, I most love, and by whom, I know, I will eventually be totally possessed.

  But then Pansy squirms in my arms and my thoughts return to this strange academy and our mistresses and masters. During the four-week trainee housemaid period, our education has been governed by three individuals: the training mistress, the training master and the sissy mentor. I have been honoured to have Mistress Helen, the Chief Executive of SMC, as my training mistress. Under her firm and deeply erotic guidance, I have learnt the true meaning of absolute submission to the glorious dominant female. A gorgeous plump brunette, with startling honey-brown eyes and a taste for intricate and bizarre bondage, Helen has summoned me to her chambers at least three evenings a week for the past month. Here I have learnt my role of slave object in a most ruthless and exciting way. It has been made clear to me that, as a sissy maid, I will never be allowed sexual union with a member of the female sex. Indeed, my only role is to provide various oral pleasures, and to act as a humbled and humiliated, yet profoundly willing maid servant. Dressed in my trainee housemaid’s uniform of a pink Senso silk dress (a gorgeous rose-patterned sissy masterpiece with long puffed sleeves and a very short petticoat-smothered skirt), a white silk pinafore, ultra sheer and seamed white Senso nylon tights and pink patent leather five-inch stiletto-heeled court shoes, my long blonde hair tied in a pretty ponytail with a sweet pink silk ribbon, my hands sealed in white glacé gloves, my ankles hobbled with a six-inch silver chain to ensure the daintiest of steps and the sexiest of wiggles, I have, on numerous occasions, minced with an increasingly instinctive femininity before this splendid beautiful woman and done her kinky bidding without even a whimper of opposition. Often tightly gagged with her panties or a fat long rubber penis gag, I have never bothered to hide the fact that I am utterly smitten by her imperial beauty and absolute incredibly elegant authority.

  Helen, being a woman of the Bigger Picture, is always careful to represent her power in sexually arousing dress. There are no simplistic feministic notions of the oppression of fashion here: the mistresses glory in their sexual allure, and use it as a key weapon in their control of the weak sex-obsessed male. Thus she wears the gorgeous uniform of a subtle dominatrix: simple grey or black skirts that fall just above the knee, very tight nylon sweaters that accentuate her large shapely breasts, long perfectly formed legs sheathed in the sheerest black or grey nylon tights, three-inch-heeled black patent leather court shoes. Her thick long black hair is always bound in a tight stern bun with an elegant diamond clasp. Her full generous lips are always painted an almost shocking blood red, as a
re her long razor-sharp fingernails.

  My greatest honour is to curtsey sweetly before her, making sure to reveal my lace-trimmed Senso silk panties, and then kneel to kiss her gleaming leather shoes, before slipping my head beneath her stylish skirt to worship her with my now expert tongue. As moans of pleasure fill her pristine chambers, I feel an overwhelming sense of love. As I taste her sweet cunt, and as her sex juices leak over my painted faced, I am lost in a state of truly selfless bliss. As she binds and gags me in strange, painful and deeply humiliating positions, leaving me exposed to the whip, her kinky hands and various wicked implements of sexual torture, I squeal my endless submissive love into my inescapable gag and feel the bottomless bliss of absolute surrender.

  Each sissy trained in the SMC academy is also allocated a training master. Although a sissy’s ultimate aim is to serve her mistress in any way she sees fit, she must also have the skills to pleasure men. This is in order to ensure a true sense of servitude and to reinforce the focus of sissy pleasure on the arse and the cock.

  Within the Bigger Picture, the emphasis is on the power and authority of the woman, but it is recognised that the core philosophy is one of power and control built around the rituals and practices of sadomasochism. Thus there will always be a place for the submissive female and the dominant male. Subsequently, the academy has two highly gifted training masters: Bentley and Taylor. I have been allocated to Bentley, and Pansy has been allocated to Taylor.

  Bentley is a strikingly handsome Afro-Caribbean. Nearly six feet four inches tall, with a broad muscular body frame, he has been a lover of Lady Ashcroft and a professional dominant for many years. He desires and admires transvestites and is openly bisexual. Within SMC, he is the acknowledged male expert on the training of sissies, and I have had the deep and endlessly erotic pleasure of being under his strict instruction for the past thirty days.