Message-ID: <19594eli$9902020431@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: tigger@alices.com (Tigger) Subject: [New Story] Protecting the Mistress (12&13/31) (FemDom, Romance) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: tigger@alices.com Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <36bf649f.3314874@news.erols.com> Tales of the Cabal: Protecting the Mistress by Tigger Copyright 1999, All Rights Reserved. Archiving and reposting of this work is permitted only on sites where *no* fee (including so-called adult checks) of any type is charged and provided that my authorship, the story itself and this statement of rights are included and are unchanged. This story is based on the Cabal as I developed it in one of my first stories, "Domination Games." This story is archived at the Nifty Archive. Url: www.nifty.org/nifty/transgender/by_authors/Tigger/ The file is Domination-Games.html *********** Protecting the Mistress by Tigger Part 12: Growing Up Fast the Hard Way Gerald looked at himself in the mirror again and still couldn't believe his eyes. There was actually a company somewhere that made pink Winnie-the-Pooh jammies with built in feet for folks of his size. The wig was something else, too. Two long, boot-black-colored braids hung down each side of his head. He looked like the Addams Family daughter on steroids. Maybe it was the remnant of the laughing fit he'd had with Mary over his, once again, ineptitude with cosmetics, but he still couldn't help giggling (literally giggling, he thought in amazement) every time he saw himself. The Raggedy Anne doll handcuffed to his right wrist really did him in. How did someone find out if a doll had given consent? And yet, as funny as this whole setup was, there was no doubt that Mary was absolutely serious. After he'd bathed her, she'd taken him back to his room in order to "get her little snookums into bed." Once inside, he'd quickly discovered padlocks on every drawer of his dresser and to his closet. The pink bear suit had been laid out on his bed. "Since you cannot seem to get the hang of cosmetics, I have decided you will learn the way women do - by growing up as a girl. I have evaluated your skill level as that of a six to eight-year-old girl, playing with Mommy's make up kit. The only way you will grow up is when your skills improve to a new age-level. Once I feel you are adult enough in your skills, I may let you be a boy again." That had stopped Gerald cold. The contract had specifically stated that none of this could touch his professional life. "What about work?" he asked. "I will unlock your dressers for you to dress each morning and I will have your outfit waiting for you when you arrive home. I think you can do your home work dressed as I specify, can't you? Do you feel that would be too much of a distraction and therefore violate our agreements?" she asked, a challenge in her voice. He'd wanted to say, hell yes!, But knew that was a lie. "So long as nothing interferes with my ability to type or do other such things, Mistress." "If anything does, I will remove it. Agreed?" Gerald acquiesced quietly. "Now, let me be very clear. You are no longer an adult or a male. I expect you to interact with me as a little girl to an adult. Perhaps you should even call me Mommy. I will consider each attempt at adult interaction as a bad word and Mommy will punish her little girl as Mothers always have." Soapsuds in the mouth, Gerald thought glumly. "Yes, Mommy." "Any problems doing as I have directed?" "Just that I don't have a whole lot of experience with little girls to draw upon." Gerald said quietly. "No sisters and I spent a whole lot of time in all boy boarding schools." "Well, then, I guess you'll just have to wing it, won't you? Anymore questions?" Gerald shook his head. "Very well." Mary spread her hands wide and made a complex figure in the air. "Abra Cadabra, you are now eight-year-old Geri. Into bed with you." Gerald clamored into bed, and slipped beneath the covers. Mary turned off the lights and made to leave. Might as well give it a start, Gerald thought, a devilish glint in his eyes. "MOOOOMMMMYY!" he yelled, in as high pitched a falsetto as he could manage. The lights snapped back on. "Yes, Geri?" "You forgot to kiss me good night!" he accused. "So I did." Mary agreed, a smile curving her lips. "Well, can't have that" and she walked over and gave her "daughter" a loud smacking kiss on her forehead. Sighing inwardly, Geri returned the sexless kiss and thought of something else. "Kiss Dolly!" he ordered with juvenile imperiousness. To his surprise, Mary did just that, and then headed for the door. Gerald let her just snap off the lights again. "MOOOMMMMMYY!!" "What now, Geri?" Mary managed to inject a tone of actual parental exasperation into her voice. Gerald wondered if it was real or if she was just that good an actress. "Can I have a drink of water, Mommy?" "It is "may I have a drink of water" and no, you may not. I don't want you wetting the bed again" and with that, she closed the door. Wetting the bed? Why on earth would she say that? All he had to do was reach behind and lower the zipper. The act followed the thought and he found out why. The devious little witch had padlocked the damned zipper, too. Well, he thought wryly, two can play at this game. He'd just see how things went tomorrow. ~------------~ Sunday lunch found Geri seated at the kitchen table with phone books acting as a bolster for "Mommy's big girl." Lunch was hot dogs and spaghetti-o's (god only knew where Mary had found those things) Geri had gotten her "sleep-in-till-noon-on- Sunday" "Mommy" up at seven with a loud "Mommy? MOMMY? Wake up!!! Geri has to go number one *real* bad" in as whiny a little girl voice as he could manage. He'd decided that if he was the little girl and Mary was the Mommy, well, Mommies had to take care of their little girls, didn't they? Gerald synthesized every bratty little girl he'd ever seen on television or at the movies, and had gone one step beyond. Little Geri had spent a half hour in the corner for a "time out" right after breakfast (Tiger Flakes, had the woman slipped out last night to buy this junk?) for throwing a foot stamping tantrum over some such thing. And he'd gotten a spanking right before lunch for being a pest. "When can we go out, Mommy? Won't you come out and play with me, Mommy?" until he thought Mary was going to pull her hair out. He made a mental note that the large wooden serving spoon from his kitchen set did an exemplary job as a "little girl spanker." Gerald resolved not to pester Mary in the kitchen again. Between the time out and the spanking, Gerald had spent the morning in Mary's room, once again practicing his make up skills. He'd gotten through three iterations and even though he did better each time, something always went wrong with one tool or another messing up the whole effect. What he needed was an eraser so that he could fix his mistakes without starting from scratch. Too bad make up did not come with a tech manual like his software did. Gerald looked up from his bowl and spoon. "Mommy, does Geri still get her time off today, or do we need to talk about that?" he asked, only just remembering to use his "geri-voice" and substitute "talk about" for the more adult "negotiate." He wasn't going to make it that easy for her to feed him the soap bar. Mary looked up from the Sunday paper which she had refused to share with her little girl and frowned. "I'd forgotten about that. I suppose you will." "Geri will do it later if Mommy wants" he offered, hoping her sense of fair play would not let her accept. His guts froze as she actually considered his offer, but then she shook her head. "No. Geri has earned her time fair and square. We have enough time for Geri to learn what she has to learn without going back on a promise. Mommy will set out your play clothes after lunch. Your usual, sweetie?" she asked. "That would be great, Mommy. Thank you." Part 12: Unexpected Improvement and Growth Gerald came down stairs dressed in his favorite jeans and chambray shirt. A leather bomber jacket and hiking boots completed his attire. Mary was waiting for him, a frown on her face. "Mary?" Gerald asked, wondering if she wanted to renege at the last moment. "The contract isn't specific about what can or cannot be done during your weekly eight hours of personal time, Gerald." She responded looking down at her tightly clutched right hand. "A strict interpretation might say that you should be completely free of anything imposed on you by me for the entire period." Baffled, Gerald looked at her. "So?" Mary opened her hand to reveal a small brass key. "You aren't free" she said simply. "I still have you locked up in that nylon chastity. And while I would prefer that you leave it on for what I have planned, I can't really order you to do that, nor could I deny you freedom from it if you insisted on that for the next eight hours." "And not freeing me could be constituted as violating the intent of the contract." Gerald replied. Mary nodded. "It is that important to you that I keep the damned thing on me while I am out?" Mary flinched a little at the evident disgust Gerald had infused in his question. "What I have planned for you in the next few days would benefit from . . . a certain tension on your part, Gerald. Free, you could relieve yourself. It would not stop what I want to do, but it would make it more difficult." "Give me the key." Gerald ordered authoritatively. Mary's head snapped up at the curt demand, ready to retaliate. Then she remembered that he'd ceased being her slave ten minutes ago. She shrugged and tossed him the key. Gerald caught and pocketed the key and turned to leave. "Wait a minute!" Mary called in surprise. "What are you doing? Aren't you going to free yourself?" "Nope." Gerald responded easily from the door. "But now that I have the key, it is my decision. If I don't want to waste a minute of my eight hours taking this thing off and putting it back on again, that's my business - not that damned Cabal's. See you later, Mary." ~----------~ Gerald returned about four hours later and went immediately to the home office. Mary watched as he made two trips in from the car, his arms filled with bags each time. Then he disappeared into the room, not to return until just before the end of his free time period when he gave the key to his belt back to Mary. Shortly thereafter, Geri was back, happily making a pest of herself to her Mother. ~----------~ Mary wasn't quite sure she believed what she saw in her mirror. Gerald's efforts this evening had been technically excellent. He still did not have the artistic subtleties down, and his shading still left a lot of room for improvement, but he had not made a single mistake in the application techniques. Actually, he had made a mistake, she reminded herself, but he'd calmly done the exactly correct procedure to remove the improperly applied cosmetic. He'd made a mistake, fixed it without having to start from scratch, and moved on. The result was still garish, but it was the type of garish a teenager who had not yet learned the power of more subtle enhancements would achieve. Only, Mary wasn't ready to make him a teenager yet. She hadn't picked up the necessary outfits from Gemma yet because she figured it would take Gerald at least several more days before he attained this level of ability. Besides, she hadn't yet shown him that cleanup trick. Had he somehow stumbled onto it on his own? What to do, what to do? "All right. Fix my hair" she ordered. Geri wrinkled her forehead at the order. "Your hair, Mommy?" "Yes, my hair. I told you, sweetie, that you would be fixing up both my face and my hair when we go visit Mommy's friends up in the mountains? So, you need to practice that, too. Fix my hair." Gerald swallowed. "How, Mommy?" he asked softly. "Oh, I think a French Braid would be perfect, sweetie." Of course, he failed miserably. His attempt at a French Braid looked more like a large order of McDonald's french fries with all the stringy potatoes hanging every which way. Which in turn made Mary miserable when she had to undo that mare's nest he'd made out of her hair while trying to follow her admittedly sparse instructions. She should have made *him* undo his efforts, but she'd had a good idea of how painful it would be when she undid the ravages Gerry had inflicted on her head. She was a sadist, *not* a masochist. As yet another snarl came free the hard way, Mary wished there was another way to train Gerald to do her hair but there just wasn't. While he did have a face he could practice on, he just did not have enough hair. Only she did. She just hoped she still did when it came time to go up to the Lodge. ~------------~ Gerald returned home from work Monday with another large parcel that went straight into his office. Mary had laid out a perfectly darling little outfit for him - a red jumper with white ankle socks and black patent maryjanes. Lace ruffles decorated the collar, hem and cuffs of the dress and it drove Gerald mad as the stiff lace constantly tickled him under the chin when he turned his head. He'd done a super job of throwing a little girl tantrum over it, too, which had earned him another spanking - this one by hand on his bare bottom while turned over Mary's knees. Which was worse than the spoon, but for a different reason. His penis had started to get hard under Mary's skilled hand, and thanks to the damned belt, that had hurt much more than his pinkened bottom. He'd spent a little longer than usual in his office that night, finding an anxious Mary waiting for him outside his door when he finally came out. "I was worried that you weren't ever going to come out" she said with a hint of exasperation. "I had to finish my homework, Mommy." Geri whined. "I know. Come along. We have work to do before your bedtime." Mary said taking her "daughter's" hand and leading her up the stairs and into the Mistress Bedroom. ~-------------~ He got the hair almost right tonight, Mary thought in disbelieving wonder. The make up was still lacking in maturity, but it was just as technically perfect as it had been the night before. Dammit, Mary fumed, she had no choice but to promote her "little girl." It was only fair, but she was having too much fun with little Geri. The past four days had been the most sweetly playful interlude she'd ever had with Gerald. Always before, he'd striven to maintain his dignity under her trials. Mary loved him dearly, but that did not mean she did not see his flaws. Gerald, if left to his own devices, could be something of a prig with his overly solemn ways. In some magical way, this episode had freed the inner clown from deep inside her lover. Geri had been a little devil who got into mischief any time the opportunity arose and Mary had loved every minute of it. Well, almost every minute of it. Ruining a new pair of dainties from sitting sat in chewing gum stuck on her vanity stool or untangling her hair from Geri's pigtail braiding experiment had been infuriating but it had also been quite invigorating. The whole experience had been wonderful and she was quite sure Gerald felt the same way. Oh well, good thing she'd gotten the stuff from Gemma today. "Baby? Go fix Mommy's bath. I'll be right back." Part 13: They Just Grow Up Too Fast (The next Saturday night) Mary could only stare at herself in the mirror and shake her head. The reflected face matched the photographed face perfectly. Actually, Mary wasn't all that sure the reflected face wasn't just a little better. Gerrie (chosen to rhyme with "Cherie") had made a slight change in her blusher color that gave her the illusion of incredible cheekbones. And her hair was also perfect - every braid tight without pulling, every hair precisely in its place. Gerrie hovered in the background, her own perfectly made up face calmly watching. The little bitch *knew* she'd won. Gerrie was made up in classic French Maid fetish chic - black dress, white lace apron black hose, two inch black heels and a perky white lace cap on the flirty blond wig. Astounding, Mary thought not for the first time, simply astounding. After his promotion eight year old child to thirteen year old nymphet on Tuesday night, Gerald had made incredible progress, advancing in "age" almost each night. Last night Mary had promoted him back to full slave, albeit still a femme. Mary had planned for it to take another week before he made it to this level of proficiency - until just before the first Congregation. She'd even entertained the idea of having Gerald still in the belt when they left for the Lodge. Best laid plans of mice and Dommes, she grumbled silently. And even more surprising, Gerald had continued to clown and kibitz with his situation at each stage of his "maturation." The thirteen-year-old had played the stereo as loud as possible until Mary had to go scream at "her" to turn it down. She wondered why Gerald had Bobby Sherman and Partridge Family records in his collection. The sixteen-year-old that Mary had teased ruthlessly about her "boy friends" had been equally determined to drive the family car. And then the twenty-year-old had gotten back at Mary for the boyfriend teasing. Gerry-the-college-girl-sophisticate had thoroughly and very cattily berated her Mother for not doing more with her looks. "You don't want to grow old alone, do you Mum? You need to set the bait before you can set the trap, you know." And they had laughed together, even when she was spanking him for some little failure or dirty trick he'd pulled on her. Even the extra work he'd been bringing home that week had not taken all that much time away from her plan, and the time spent had simply gotten better and better. It had been a terrific week and Mary did not want it to end! The high-heeled "click click" of Gerrie moving across the hard wood floor returned Mary's attention to the present. Disgusted, she watched him maneuver about the room easily in the modestly high heeled shoes. Dammit, she almost growled aloud, those heels alone should have slowed him down, at least for one more day. That was why she hadn't fought last night's transition from twenty-year-old daughter to female servant harder than she had. Damn his natural grace, she fumed. And damn my ethics, too. ~----------~ Mary finally convinced herself to keep Gerrie en femme one more night. One nice thing about having a French Maid and not a daughter was the sex - the lovemaking, actually. Gerrie had spent the previous night relieving Mary's own built up tensions with her very skillful tongue and fingers. She'd do so again tonight, and Mary would exact at least a little bit of gentle vengeance on her slave for disrupting her plans. The belt made Mary's teasing. . . . a very hard experience for her little slave, and tonight, there would be a LOT of teasing for her lover to endure. Mary was going to make *sure* of that. ~-----------~ Sunday, after a lovely brunch cooked and served superbly by Gerrie, Mary accompanied Gerald up to his room when it was time for his weekly free time to start. Upon entering the room, Gerald realized something was amiss, but could not put his finger on it. What he did see was that his outfit for the next eight hours of freedom had not been laid out on his bed as he had expected. Turning to Mary. "Maitresse? My clo-thing?" he asked, still in the horrible French accent he'd used as part of his current role. Mary smiled at his lack of perception. "Take your pick, Gerry" she said, calling him by that name for the first time in over a week. Gerald's gaze slewed around the room, and then he realized what had changed. All of the locks on his things had been removed. He spun back to face Mary so quickly that he almost tripped himself in the still unaccustomed heels. "Mistress?" he asked dazedly. Grinning at him, Mary went up on tiptoe and kissed him deeply, again for the first time in over a week. "Welcome back, Gerald. Here, let me help you out of that dress so you can be about your chores." With calm efficiency, Mary soon had Gerald stripped of the dress, wig and other trappings of his Gerrie persona. When all that was left was the belt, Gerald started to move toward his bureau only to be stopped by Mary grabbing one of the chastity's hip straps. "We're not done, love" she said to pull the necklace holding the key out from inside her sweater. "This comes off, too. Remember? I said you were neutered until you passed my test." Deftly, she unlocked the three strap locks and the lock on above the glans. Then she kissed him again. "Have fun, dear. See you tonight. Plan on making an early night of it." She turned to leave. "Mistress?" "Yes, Gerry," she replied, turning to face him again. "I know I am not supposed to ask for scenes, but could we do Geri and Gerrie again some time? I really enjoyed playing the brat and the bitch with you. More than I ever thought I could." "I'd like that, too." she said with a slight catch in her voice. She'd won! I only hope you still feel that way after the next weekend, she thought. "Oh, and plan on sleeping with me tonight, or at least, plan on sharing my bed tonight. I want to compare your technique to that of a certain French hussy I met recently." ~-----------~ The house seemed oddly quiet when Gerald left to spend the afternoon watching football at the local sports bar. After the noise and chaos of Gerald in his various female personas, the lack of sound was just a little daunting to Mary. "Maybe I should take a few hours away, too," she said aloud, "a movie perhaps." Only she couldn't find the paper. Gerry had probably taken it with him she mused. How was she going to find out what was playing where? Then her eyes fell on Gerry's study. She'd use his Internet account and check the local paper's web page for movie listings. Pleased with that idea, Mary opened the office door. . . . and stopped dead in her tracks. Not quite sure she wanted to accept the evidence of her eyes, Mary slowly moved into Gerald's inner sanctum for the first time since they'd begun their 24/7 commitment. The room smelled like some cosmetics counter at a department store. A small table had been converted into a vanity, complete with a lighted mirror. Scattered about the table were cosmetics of every description - all of them the brands, tones and colors used by one Mistress Mary Johnson. She started to find a seat, wanting to think about what this meant when she kicked something on the floor. Looking down, she saw shiny photo books. She picked them up and burst into laughter. They were "how-to" books for women and girls on the art of cosmetics. Gerald's extra "work" had been *her* work. Any wonder he'd suddenly known tricks she hadn't taught him. A quick scan of the rest of the room answered another question. She walked over to the wig-stand rested. The wig was almost a perfect match for her own dark locks in both color and length. The wig was styled in a perfect French Braid. She glanced around and found the other piece of that answer - another book "Hair Care and Styling Made Easy." Another detailed how-to picture book. He'd spent his own time that last weekend buying this stuff so that he could do as she had commanded. She ought to be ticked off that he'd subverted her plans, but instead, she was touched because there was no doubt in Mary's mind why he'd done it. Gerry wasn't trying to get out of her little game - the man had enjoyed playing the various roles far too much. No, she was positive that what had motivated Gerald in this case was her stated plan for him to fix her face and hair for the Cabal Congregation scene. She'd told him that anything less than perfection would humiliate her in front of her friends, and she already knew how Gerald felt about public humiliation. His own, and now just as obviously, hers. Very carefully, Mary replaced everything she'd moved as best she could remember, and then slipped from the room. She now had her plans for the remainder of the day. First, a very satisfying, very happy crying jag to celebrate the wonderful gift her man had given her without even telling her about it. After that, she had preparations of her own to make before Gerald got home tonight. He was going to have a dream of a night, she smiled to herself, and the best part was, he wouldn't know the reason for her gift to him. Sauce for the goose, she thought happily as the first tears began to flow. End Part 13 -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----