Saturday, April 27, 2019

'Maid Service at the Phipps Estate', Snippet Two

Moving to the front door, a truck of good size pulls under the porte-cochere. I stand at the top steps, arms akimbo assuming the role of chatelaine, Nurse Eve standing to my side. From the truck exit two burly workers.

“From the clinic,” the driver and older of the two announces.

“Please bring the shipment into the house,” acknowledging.

Though secluded, I don’t want Maxine outdoors. Certainly not because of neighbors... none for over half a mile... but because the freedom I promised him will be quite limited. Liberated of the burdens of the role of masculinity which he could never fulfill, his new freedom... to serve and please women of authority... will be manifested within the confines of the vast Phipps mansion. It will be rare for her to again feel the sun’s rays.

The rear doors of the truck swing open. A tail gate folds down. The men push a wooden crate onto the hydraulic platform. I note they are careful, well aware of the contents of deliveries from Dr. Gehorchen and the staff. Jumping to the pavement, the older presses a button and the platform lowers to knee height. The crate is cubical, some three plus feet high, wide and long, surprisingly short considering the contents. Then they each grab an end and seem to effortlessly lift... again carefully.

I turn and lead to the mansion entrance, pushing open the double doors. Eve and the men follow into the nineteenth century foyer. It is of size, one envisioning a bevy of butlers and servants greeting dozens of guests for a formal dinner or other soiree.

I point, the men lower the box. At the top, in seeing the locking device which Dr. Gehorchen explained, I remove the cell phone from my pocket.

“We’ll need to return the box, ma’am. If you have the code we will open it and ah... release... ah... empty it for you.”

I swipe the phone. It alights. I go to my messages. Dr. Gehorchen has sent the code.

“1258,” I offer, the driver nodding and fidgeting with the gizmo at the top.

I hear a click and the man unfolds the top of the six sided cubical. He reaches within to retract a small package, handing it to me. I know it to be a month or more supply of that to be injected into Maxine’s cute little fanny, the calming chlordiazepoxide combined with estrogen and prolactin.

“These deliveries used to be more fun... for the younger guys,” the man becoming pedantic in addressing his assistant. “Before the coded locking system some of the boys would stop along the way open the box and get a little action... if you know what I mean,” glancing my way to ascertain any disapproval.

I simply shrug, hinting that to sully any of Maxine’s now supple openings is of little concern.

Top folded away, the man next works the sides, laying each to the carpet to expose in profile the doubled over form of a naked, feminized Maximilian Von Webring.

“With some of the guys... a blow job is a blow job... even if it’s from some pansy guy in make up and bangs. But no more, every delivery is now secured.”

As the man moves to the rear panel, I visually inspect.

Maxine is nude of course, and well tethered, despite being confined and immobile. Knees to her chest, thigh bands just above the knee connect to a short strap leading from right thigh, about the back of her neck to her left thigh. Very constricting, she is held in the decubitus position, wrists cuffed together above her upturned buttocks.

With the size and shape of the box, no one would suspect it contained a human form... naked, and well tethered.

“Now watch how I lower the last panels,” the drive again lecturing. “You may have to do this on some delivery.”

With that he reaches within, presses something and I hear the hiss of air.

“Inflatable penis gag,” the man explains. “For sure no more blow jobs,” added with a snicker.

With that he very slowly lowers the panel over Maxine’s head, hinged in being connected to the bottom panel. As his hands carefully guide, I note a sizable dildo slowly exits Maxine’s mouth. In being attached to the wooden panel, essentially Maxine’s head, mouth and throat have been made one with the box. 

“See, got to be careful. No gagging.”

Maxine, in obedient silence, licks her lips, the long interval of impaled mouth and throat coming to an end. Should I be surprised when the man next moves to the remaining upright panel and releases a second valve... more air hissing?

Yes, just as with Maxine’s mouth and throat a second inflatable dildo has filled her anal cavity for the hour or more journey from the clinic.       

“And no more of this either,” the driver crudely ramming his closed fist from his waist upwards in a gesture of sodomy.

As he slowly lowers the rear panel, sure enough a connected dildo slips from Maxine’s rectum, making an embarrassing plop as the bulbous tip comes into view.

“We’ll have to release the straps. As I said, need the box back. But we can restrain him... ah... her... any way you want.”

I just nod, smiling in seeing Maxine’s balls... probably more delight comes as they ring when motion is restored, the thigh straps and wrist cuffs removed, legs finally straightening.

“Welcome, Maxine.”

I see Eve staring as well. Maxine’s testicles... my testicles... dangling from a shriveled pouch of pink flesh. Ironically they hang from where they should be on the normal male... but doing so encased in Lucite with tiny bells announcing his neutering.

It brings a subtle glee to a woman like me... knowing such no longer function, masculinity terminated at my behest... and checkbook.

“To your knees, Maxine. I think you need to thank the gentlemen for freeing you. Hands behind your head... just as you’ve been taught.”

The last few weeks of Maxine’s stint at the clinic has involved much time in the fellatio room, perfecting not only tongue and lip skills, but a demanded regimen for the feminized male.

Maxine knows to crawl from the open crate, the folded down panels fanned out lying flat on the carpet, on two of which the inflatable dildos stand like flag poles.

“May I suck your penis sir,” the words so humble and polite, the voice seeming to be even softer and higher pitched than during my last visit.

The driver, of middle age, shakes his head.

“I don’t do that any more, girly boy. The wife... she expects attention when I get home. But Ray here is single,” the driver nodding to his cohort.

Maxine looks to me, so embarrassed. Yet her training... pounded and pounded into her head... dictates that for her utter subjugation is best... obedience... the need to please me as Master.

So I nod to this Ray worker, noting that he is already opening his zipper.

“Consider it to be a tip,” I flippantly suggest, looking to see Nurse Eve’s eyes aglow in rapt fascination.

Yes, I definitely have hired well. 

Monday, April 22, 2019

Sunday, April 21, 2019

Maid Service at the Phipps Estate, Snippet One

From the promised sequel to 'Transformed'.

To be published tomorrow 4/22/19



“Remember Eve, You are in charge of caring for him. Other then that, your duties are none. He will submit to you, completely... more on that. He is to care for the household and me. And for reasons which will become apparent to you, my husband Maximilian Von Webring is never to be referenced in the masculine. This is the last time you will hear his birth name. He... she... is now the household maid. ‘Maxine’... ‘she’... ‘her’... it is important that she be psychologically immersed in the feminine.”

“Yes, ma’am,” comes a polite reply.

What a treasure I have found. Evelyn Remarque... Eve... is a Haitian immigrant with nursing skills. Just turning age 21, she has obtained a visa to study more nursing and become licensed in the United States. Thus in simply being able to provide room and board my offer of employment has been found to be attractive. And then when I initially described her duties, the sly smile convinced me I have hired well. I increased her proposed compensation on the spot.

When not serving meals, cleaning the mansion, doing laundry and most importantly grooming and assuring my pleasure, Maxine will be in bondage. And as I learned in visiting the clinic where I completed his... her... neutering, keeping a girly boy in tight restraints requires attention... time which I care not to expend.

So, with many millions at hand, the vast Phipps trust funds, I engaged Eve. She speaks with the clipped accent of the former French colony... some words accented in French... others in Creole. Her starched white uniform highlights a complexion very dark and very pretty in refreshing youthfulness. She is slim but sinewy, her strength I am sure developed in having to perform much manual labor in her impoverished home country. And in being so slight compared to the larger and rapidly plumping form of my girly boy husband, it will be amusing to see Maxine have to submit to her.

And I am now to ascertain her aptitude for other aspects of Maxine’s ‘care’.

“The cane, are you familiar with it Eve... as an instrument of discipline?”

Her face turns glum. This could be a problem. I had not chanced mentioning corporal punishment during her initial interview, before the decision to hire.    

“Oh, please no Miss Phipps, I’ll be good.”

I smile with the reaction of dread.

“No Eve, you will never ever be caned.”

“My father, he used it... when he said I was bad... and I was not,” the words tearful.

“Well, I’ll want you to cane Maxine. You’ll need to establish your authority over her. Mine comes by way of his warped need to please me and need for feminine guidance, now that he’s been... well... you’ll see. For you, it will come from fear. I’ll want him trembling in your presence Eve. Can you do that?”

The smile returns, she nods.

“I will keep my father in mind... and my brothers. They also would take the switch to me.”

“Good. Think of it as vengeance, Eve. Think of those with a penis as Maxine pleads for mercy.”

The smile broadens.

“As discussed in the interview, Maxine is to be naked at all times... completely. You’ll need to keep your clothing secure so she is not tempted to dress. If she does need covering, I have a uniform for her if there are guests.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Maxine will require a daily injection. A sedative that keeps her serene plus some hormones that keep her appearance and her thoughts quite feminine. You will supervise her bathing and inspect her grooming. She’s been trained to apply cosmetics... to look pretty. But in terms of internal cleansing, there are reasons that a daily high colonic will be required and some... let’s term it anal stimulation.”

Oh, have I got the right girl! Not only is there no objection, but the pearl white teeth of a bubbling smile tell me she is one of us. 

“Any and all toilet visits will need your permission and she should be well supervised. There are... ah... well... some trinkets she wears for me which need not to be soiled. You’ll see.  

“Let me show you your room. Maxine will be delivered shortly.”

I lead up the stairs. Symbolic of her stature within the household, I have refurnished a large bedroom, no limited servants quarters for she second in command. Down the hall, the room is distant from my master bedroom. I don’t want to be kept awake if Nurse Eve needs to noisily discipline my maid husband.

We enter. Eve beams in happiness, I am sure nothing akin to her modest home in Haiti. I let her peer about visually taking in the opulence then lead her to a massive windowless closet.

“Maxine will sleep here... and be kept here... when not being used.”

I strain in pull open the door. A heavy expenditure but a good investment of the Phipps millions, it is of solid steel, inches thick, with a locking system resembling that of a bank vault. When closing it makes a thud of convincing finality, and the rattle and clicking of the locking mechanism is delightfully symbolic... bringing joy to the woman in charge... panic and dread to the imprisoned inhabitant. Thoughts of turning out the lights... immersing the occupant in total darkness... bring goose bumps... such cruelty... such arousing cruelty. Within the chamber is large enough for a bed... and not much more. The thin mattress is centered, the many ineluctable Segufix cuffs and straps lying in wait. I hear Eve take a gasp of breath in surprise... pleasant surprise?

“You’re familiar with such restraints?”

“A little Miss Phipps. But will learn more.”

“Easily done. Just keep the magnetic unlocking gadget well away from any hands that you may choose to free,” taking the device and demonstrating how quickly and easily the cuffs and straps can be released. “And otherwise there are three words to describe good bondage... tight, tight and tighter.”

Eve represses a giggle. I suspect a sizable year end bonus will be coming her way.

“Yes, Eve, I suppose the bondage combined with the formidable door are a little overdone... no one ever escapes the Segufix restraint system. But it’s an emotional/psychological thing. Maxine must feel owned... totally under feminine control even when alone and at rest. Capitulating, serving, adulating the power of women must occupy her mind... completely... at all times.”

My own words bring giddiness. In installing the door, I had it tested, assuring that not a glint of light shines through the cracks. And the Segufix system speaks for itself. Immobility and darkness... such will bring constant thoughts of succumbing... those that I desire.

“I’ll want her hooded,” pointing to a hood of black latex hanging on the wall. “It will be tight, but it stretches. The large opening is obviously for the mouth and nose. She’ll be using her tongue quite a bit, Eve. And you may wish to consider a shorter skirt... or perhaps one which can easily be raised. Maxine has been orally trained... extensively orally trained... and her efforts won’t be exclusive to me... if you get my drift.”

Eve nods enthusiastically. I must wonder, in being raised in a male dominant society like Haiti, if she’s ever had her cunny licked... and licked... and licked.

I feel twinges just thinking about it.

“And here you will... ah... care for her.”

Out of the sleeping area I stroll to a room I know will impress. I had an adjoining bedroom refurbished at a considerable cost, its separate exit to the hall walled over. It can only be entered and exited through Eve’s bedroom, making the three rooms into a separate enclave accessed only through the door to her bedroom. I thought the aura of captivity would enhance Maxine’s sense of capitulation. And furthering that, I have replicated the medical room at the clinic... where the unyielding yet talented Dr. Gehorchen turns boys to girls.

Cabinets filled with whatever needs to be done to augment and drive home Maxine’s transformation, centered is the feared gynecological chair where husband Maximilian Van Webring surrendered to a woman his remaining testicle.

A shame he was not conscious for the coup de grace, in terms of his transformation. But I am told the procedure was videotaped. Good to keep in mind if there is any reversion to masculinity and some psychological duress needs to be applied.

In a corner there is a make up table, its use apparent... tubes, bottles, combs brushes lying in wait to prettify my emasculated husband.

There is a short whipping bench... more cuffs... where tummy down on a padded surface... supplicating on all fours... Maxine will endure her daily injection, enema, and I am sure frequent canings.

Plumbing fixtures allow for bathing. Just having a section of the floor tiled and drained costed thousands.

So good to be rich.

Eve looks at me, mouth opening in more shocked surprise.

“Yes Eve, just strap her into the chair at your whim and do whatever. When not serving me, she’ll be all yours. Or the whipping bench. I suggest caning her also on a whim. The unknown will engender trepidation... and augment your perceived authority.”    

I cannot help thinking how much I am going to enjoy watching the girl’s apparent ingrained wickedness grow and blossom like a pretty flower.

I step to a rack on the right wall. Prominently displayed are a set of canes and assorted instruments of correction. I select a thin nasty length of rattan, swishing through the air to make the ominously threatening sound of caning. When I hand it to Eve, it is good to see that the memories of paternal punishment begin to fade... Eve’s look of concern slowly transforming to one of empowerment in realizing which end of the cane she will be feeling.

When I hand it to her, the look further turns to one of confidence and control as she not only swishes, but strikes the top of the padded whipping bench with a vigorous swing of her arm and flick of her wrist.

I cannot help noticing the hand. Though of age, it is slight, petite, its slimness that of a child. I suspect prostate milkings will be thorough at the Phipps mansion... and entertaining to observe.   

And that reminds me.

“Cameras, Eve,” pointing high to where the wall meets the ceiling. “For a woman like me, watching Maxine’s comeuppance can... well... bring a degree of amusement. Only I will watch... and an occasional guest. So don’t feel inhibited.”

She nods. I am heartened she has no problem having Maxine put a show on for me.

I hear a vehicle, the low rumbling of a truck engine. With the estate’s many acres, the long drive commencing well away from the main road, I know it is a delivery. And I know what is to be delivered.

“Come Eve. Maxine’s big day. Finally out of the clinic after many, many months of transformation and conditioning.”

We exit the rooms, into the hall. Eve following, I turn and enlighten.

“Think of this as unwrapping a gift, Eve,” alerting the young nurse as to the clinic’s exacting bondage.