Silken Slavery

by Christina Shelly

  ‘If you work in the shoe section, you spend most of your time on your knees. But I’m sure you’ll like that!’

  Christina fights to listen as Lucy explains far too quickly how each set of shelves hold a certain variety of footwear and within each set how there are various sub-varieties. As she explains, Lucy makes a point of bending over to retrieve a lovely, patent leather boot from a bottom shelve, causing her short skirt to ride up her legs and reveal dark stocking tops followed by very shapely thighs and a black silk-pantied bottom. This quite deliberate display is designed purely to excite the hapless she-male and thus to enrage her already very prominent erection even further. And she is still in a state of some considerable sexual distress when a very attractive middle-aged lady suddenly appears and asks for assistance. In response, Lucy spins around, a broad, helpful smile on her face and points directly at Christina.

  ‘Of course, madam. I’m sure Chrissie will be more than pleased to serve you.’

  As Lucy then quickly disappears, her gentle laughter bells of doom in the she-male’s sissy ears, poor Christina turns to face the lady and instinctively performs a deep curtsey.

  It is only as the woman gasps in amazement that Christina has the courage to face her fully. Surely, she thinks, the woman will complain, the police will be called. But by the time their eyes meet, the woman is smiling broadly, her eyes filled with cruel humour and something else: desire.

  ‘Well, well. Another one of Amanda’s little pranks, I assume. And what a particularly lovely one!’

  The woman is maybe fifty, dressed in a long black dress, an expensive fur coat and very high heels. Her steel grey hair is bound into a very tight bun with a diamond clasp. Her piercing green eyes remind Christina of Anne, yet there is more humour here, and thus more humanity.

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘Christina, mistress,’ the she-male meekly replies, performing another helplessly deep curtsey. ‘How can I serve you?’

  The woman’s cherry-red lips widen. ‘Oh, I can think of quite a few ways, actually. But you can start by showing me some shoes. I’m particularly interested in your heeled boots.’

  As she speaks, she points a long, red-nailed finger at a rack of very elegant leather boots directly opposite. Christina curtseys and wiggle-minces over to the rack, making sure that the woman is treated to a sexy display of her bouncing and, because of the tightness of the trousers (and the fact he is wearing no underwear), very clearly defined buttocks, two ripe plums in a soft velvet sack.

  Keeping her knees tightly together, she bends forwards and selects two types of particularly high-heeled boot, one cut from brown leather with a strange but very attractive flower patterning, the other a stiletto-heeled, black patent leather boot with a pin-pointed, silver-capped toe. Knowing that the woman is feasting her eyes on her now very obviously displayed bottom, Christina performs a naughty little wiggle, straightens up and then returns, her very stiff, very angry sex straining both against the tight rubber restrainer and the taut velvet fabric of the kinky trousers.

  The woman now seems quite overcome with arousal and allows herself to be gently led to a fitting stool. Once she has sat down, her eyes glazed yet still fixed firmly on this gorgeous, sexy sissy, Christina elegantly kneels by her feet and bends to slip off her high-heeled court shoes, a familiar she-male confidence washing over her, a deeply enlivening sense of her own feminine charms that brushes the fear and humiliation to one side.

  The woman is wearing black hose and her cherry-painted toes are clearly visible through the erotic film of sheer black nylon. Christina recalls her adventures at the feet of her three mistresses and her erection struggles a little more desperately.

  ‘I think you’ll like these, mistress,’ Christina purrs, slipping the brown boot over the woman’s shapely foot.

  The woman stares down at the boot now gracing her left foot and smiles weakly. ‘Yes, it’s nice. Can I try the other one?’

  Subdued because overwhelmed, excited, and now confused, the woman watches astonished as Christina then slips the boot from her foot, making sure that her fingers glide over her hosed calves as she does so. She then fits the patent leather boot with an equally erotic care and the slightest moan of pleasure escapes from the woman’s lips.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asks, trying her hardest to concentrate on the foot.

  ‘I am the personal maid of some friends of mistress Amanda, mistress.’

  ‘Maid? But you are…I mean, you’re male?’

  ‘Yes, mistress. But “she-male” would be a more accurate description.’

  ‘Indeed…’

  Then Lucy appears, a huge smile still glued to her very beautiful face. ‘Mrs Jarvis, how nice to see you again. Is Christina performing adequately?’

  The woman, Mrs Jarvis, looks up, startled, dragged from a distinctly erotic day dream. ‘Yes, of course. She…he’s very attentive. Where on earth did you find…him?’

  ‘Perhaps you would like to talk to the owner?’

  ‘Yes. I certainly would. And I’ll take both these pairs.’

  Christina smiles sweetly, replaces Mrs Jarvis’s original shoes and, at Lucy’s command, hands her the boots.

  By the time Lucy has packed the boots and supervised their sale, Christina is already at the hosed feet of another amazed woman.

  The next two hours are, despite Christina’s initial horror of exposure in the bizarre costume, quite delightful and very exciting. She is surprised by how busy the shoe section becomes, but the pleasure she takes in serving a succession of mainly older women, all of whom seem to know Amanda, and tending to their finely hosed feet, is a very intense one.

  Then, at just before 4.00 p.m., Lucy leads the lovely sissy back to the private viewing room. Here she is presented to Amanda and a strikingly regal woman in her early fifties. Very tall, with stunning, very long blonde hair, dressed in an elegant powder-blue suit consisting of a tight, silver button jacket and a pencil skirt reaching down to white hosed ankles, together with a white silk blouse and matching powder-blue leather court shoes, she is both an image of distinct feminine beauty and considerable authority. Her cool, crystal blue eyes behold Christina with a mixture of disdain and curiosity and as the sissy performs a deep curtsey, she unleashes a whip crack laugh of contempt.

  ‘Good grief, Amanda, what on earth is this?’ she exclaims, her voice rich, deep, aristocratic, and deeply sexual.

  ‘Meet Christina, Lady Ashcroft. Helen’s she-male maidservant and general slave.’

  ‘Helen? Yes, that doesn’t surprise me one little bit. Where did she manage to dig him up?’

  ‘Believe it or not, he used to be her boss.’

  Another brutal, mocking laugh follows. ‘Oh, I believe it…I certainly do believe it.’

  It is only as Christina stands fearfully before this impressive woman, her eyes angled demurely at the lovely powder-blue shoes, that she realises she is standing before Lady Emily Ashcroft, the ex-Cabinet minister and now prominent Tory peer. Helen and Amanda, it seems, keep particularly rich company.

  ‘Well,’ Lady Ashcroft says, ‘what have you got for me?’

  Amanda smiles and offers Lady Ashcroft a seat on the sofa. The beautiful, steely-eyed woman slowly, gracefully lowers herself onto the sofa, her eyes never leaving Christina and, more importantly, Christina’s uncontrollable and helplessly exposed erection.

  Amanda stands back to reveal a mobile shelving unit consisting of three racks. On each of the racks is a pair of beautiful shoes: a pair of stiletto-heeled, cream silk covered mules; a pair of stiletto-heeled ankle boots with spectacular diamond buckles and black silk ribbon lacing; and a pair of very high-heeled court shoes made from blood-red patent leather.

  At Amanda’s instruction, Christina takes the cream coloured silk stilettos from the top rack and then gracefully kneels down by Lady Ashcroft. Placing the new shoes by her feet, she then carefully removes the powder-blue court shoes, delicately and somewhat covertly caressing Lady Ashcroft, white nylon-shea
thed feet as she does so. A slight shiver of pleasure runs through the gorgeous aristocrat.

  ‘You have very delicate hands, Christina.’

  ‘Thank you, mistress.’

  Christina then gently guides Lady Ashcroft’s feet into the powder-blue shoes. The lovely peer stretches out her legs and admires the shoes. For the first time a look of genuine human warmth crosses her beautiful face.

  ‘Very nice, Amanda. Yes, I like these a lot.’

  Over the next thirty minutes, Christina helps Lady Ashcroft into all of the shoes, an increasingly erotic process, more due to the subtle caresses of Christina than the fetishistic pleasure produced by the shoes. But by the end of the fitting, Lady Ashcroft is clearly very happy and agrees to purchase all three pairs. Unfortunately, as Christina is refitting her original shoes, the she-male’s finger becomes caught in the instep of the left shoe and as she struggles to pull it free, her nail scratches the older woman’s foot and ladders her hose. Noticing this, Amanda steps forward, apologising profusely and drags Christina to her feet.

  ‘Oh, you silly girl!’ she scolds. ‘Now look what you’ve done!’

  Christina tries to apologise, but a sudden sharp slap to her velvet imprisoned buttocks immediately induces a painful silence.

  Lady Ashcroft then stands up and faces the now very frightened she-male.

  ‘That was very naughty, Christina. I think a spanking is in order.’

  ‘Of course, Lady Ashcroft,’ Amanda snaps. ‘I’ll see to it at once.’

  ‘No. No, I will see to it. Please prepare her and then I will deliver the spanking personally.’

  As she speaks, her eyes burn into poor, helplessly sexy Christina. The she-male curtseys and feels a sense of dreadful masochistic arousal wash over her.

  Almost curtseying herself, Amanda drags Christina over to the mobile rack. On the top shelf is a small wooden box containing the dummy gag and the two stockings. Within seconds, Christina’s mouth is once again very tightly and perversely stopped and her wrists and ankles are tautly bound. She is then made to hop back to Lady Ashcroft and, despite her bondage, perform a deep, apologetic curtsey.

  ‘You look very sexy tied and gagged, Christina. If I were your mistress, you’d be gagged all the time.’

  Her words, hoarsely spoken, betray the extent of her attraction and arousal. Then, to Christina’s utter amazement, the stunning woman unzips her skirt and lets it fall to the floor, revealing a pair of very shapely legs sheathed in white nylon tights.

  ‘I’ll be able to control her better without the skirt,’ Lady Ashcroft informs Amanda, who has already knelt down and picked up the skirt as if it were a holy relic.

  Lady Ashcroft then sits back down on the sofa, leans forward, takes Christina by the waist and pulls the lovely, terribly excited she-male over her long, hosed legs. Resting helplessly in the peer’s warm, deep lap, her erection pressing deeply into the older woman’s thighs, she is then soundly spanked, receiving twelve hard, firm blows to her backside, a series of very committed blows that leave the poor sissy sobbing into her fat, phallic dummy gag and large girlish tears spilling from her pretty eyes.

  Still sobbing, she is then pulled to her feet by Amanda and made to curtsey her thanks for the spanking. Lady Ashcroft rises, takes the skirt from Amanda and steps back into it.

  ‘You have a very sweet bottom, Christina. I take it your mistresses spank you regularly?’

  Christina, now feeling the familiar spread of the spanking’s heat from her bottom to her stiff, rubberised sex, curtseys in the affirmative.

  ‘Yes, of course. Helen knows what she is doing.’

  Then their eyes meet and Christina feels a sense of utter, high erotic helplessness.

  ‘I will want to see much more of you, Christina.’

  Amanda then smiles broadly. ‘I’m sure that will be possible, Lady Ashcroft, especially if we get my proposed business venture off the ground; with your help, of course.’

  Lady Ashcroft smiles and nods. ‘Yes. Well, I’ve looked at the business plan you provided and I’m impressed. And if the others are as good as Christina…well, I’m sure we can reach an understanding.’

  Confused by this strange coda to the afternoon, Christina curtseys once more before Lady Ashcroft as Lucy enters the room and removes the mobile rack, the young girl’s pretty eyes beholding the bound and gagged form of sissy Christina with great amusement.

  Lady Ashcroft then turns to face Christina directly, her eyes quite glazed by sexual excitement. ‘I’ll see you soon, Christina.’

  Another curtsey follows, then Amanda leads her very eminent customer from the oval room. Poor Christina must then stand, bound and dummy gagged, for nearly half an hour, her mind racing, her sex burning into her velvet-clad form, desperately trying to make sense of what has just happened.

  Amanda eventually returns with a very large smile on her face.

  ‘Excellent!’ she exclaims. ‘Everything went exactly to plan. Helen and Anne were certainly right about you, Chrissie: you’re the key to a new life for us all!’

  Puzzled and even frightened by these strange words, the gorgeous she-male, her bottom burning sweetly, her sex infuriated, can only watch helplessly as her feet are untied. She is then led from the room, back to the rear entrance and to Amanda’s car. Soon, she will be returned to Helen, but in the back of the car, still tightly bound and gagged, all she can think of is the arctic beauty of Lady Ashcroft and her obscure references to a very unclear future.

  Part Three

  A New Life

  Ten

  The next few days pass in a whirl of work and sexual excitement. The more bizarre punishments and adventures previously experienced are replaced by a return to the routine of servitude and education. From 6.00 a.m. to 10.00 p.m. each day, Christina eagerly performs an apparently never-ending array of household duties and undergoes further training in her domestic role and in the various erotic trappings of sissy femininity. Each morning is spent undertaking mainly unsupervised duties such as cleaning and washing and more ironing, although not in the rather harsh conditions of the previous Sunday evening. Each afternoon is spent in a trance of delight as she undergoes movement and deportment training with Donna. And each evening she minces prettily before her mistresses in her finest and sexiest maid’s outfits, so eager to serve and please in any way. Although she is often spanked, especially by Helen, there are no more strange bondage ordeals. This is partly due, Christina is sure, to the absence of Anne, who has returned to work, but is also very busy transforming Christina’s website into a full-blown commercial venture. And then at night, there is the simple ecstasy of sharing Donna’s bed and expressing her deep, perhaps bottomless love for the blonde beauty through a passionate and prolonged love-making that leaves both of them exhausted, yet even more obsessed with each other.

  And Friday comes so very quickly. Then Christina is faced with the imminent arrival of Annette. She spends the Friday afternoon with Donna choosing a suitably sexy outfit in which to meet her fellow she-male. Helen is also very keen that Christina look ‘appropriately alluring’ and insists she inspect the lovely sissy once a costume has been selected and fitted. So, at just before 6.00 p.m., Christina wiggle-minces into the living room behind Donna to present herself to Helen. She is wearing a very short pink skirt, a white silk blouse, a matching pink jacket, together with very sheer white nylon tights and pink patent leather, stiletto-heeled mules. The black Bettie Page wig has been replaced by a thick, very curly ‘Monroe-style’ blonde wig and her lips have been painted a pink that matches exactly the skirt and shoes.

  ‘You’re the essence of sissy femininity,’ Helen says, her eyes filled with a profound triumph. ‘You have fulfilled all our hopes.’

  Christina curtseys her thanks.

  ‘Poor Annette won’t know what hit her,’ Donna says. ‘She’ll be over here begging us to turn her into a maid.’

  Christina’s look of concern weakens Helen’s smile.

  ‘There’s no n
eed to be concerned, Christina. We’re not going to replace you. But we do want a second sissy to help you. We have some very ambitious plans for you, Chrissie, but we can’t achieve them without a little more she-male support. Therefore, I’ve decided to interview Annette and see if she will make a suitable companion for you and a second maidservant and general slave for us.’

  Christina listens in utter astonishment, but makes sure merely to curtsey her understanding before the two gorgeous mistresses. Helen’s plans fill the sissy with both trepidation and a deep, disturbing excitement. Suddenly, she realises that she is being used to lure Annette into an elaborate trap, that she is bait to capture the beautiful she-male and condemn her to a life of ultra-feminised sissy slavery. Yet the more this simple fact sinks home, the more appealing and arousing it becomes. To share her delightful servitude with Annette: yes, that would be simply wonderful.