Finding My Voice - Chapter 6 - Becoming A Madam free porn video

FINDING MY VOICE Chapter 6 - Becoming a "Madam". It was one thing to realise that my predestined role in society was to become a cross-dressing man offering services and facilities to Sissies and Submissives; quite another to work out how to fulfil that destiny. I felt the need for an in-depth conversation with my best friends Imogene and Paul. As ever when I consult Imogene and Paul in a professional capacity, (as opposed to visiting them socially), I booked time with them via their dressing service "Illusions." After all, "Illusions" is their business and source of income and I don't like imposing upon their goodwill. Fortunately Imogene had a cancelation for the following day, so I rang my employers and booked a day's leave, pleading the need to visit a sick relative. I pitched up at Illusions in male mode and was soon settled down with Imogene and Paul explaining my dilemma. "Duncan has convinced me that I have a real talent to be the dominant one in a relationship" I explained. "He then went on to encourage me to use this ability in a professional capacity and set up a facility for sissies and submissive men. I have to confess that the idea excites me but I have no idea how to go about it. I need your help and advice please!" Imogene could see that I was excited and, sensibly, started, gently, to question me more fully about my motives. "You have never previously struck me as someone who might want to become a Dominatrix" she said. "I know" I replied, "As a man I am mild, retiring - a bit of a "nerd" if I am honest. But as "Sonia", when I was with Duncan, I found it just came naturally for me to boss him and order him about. He loved it and I found it a real turn on." "So is this something sexual?" was Imogene's next question. "Because if that is the case a whole set of different issues come into play. As you know, here at "Illusions" we only offer a dressing service. Sexual favours are strictly taboo. If you want to run a brothel, I'm not sure we are the right people to advise you." I could see that both she and Paul were worried about me and my sudden enthusiasm to set up a fetish business. I paused and spoke more thoughtfully; "I don't think I would want to run a brothel" I said, "yes, I enjoyed sex with Duncan but that was with someone I like very much. I don't think I would enjoy giving complete strangers blow jobs - never mind the risks that would entail. No, I think what I would like to consider is a service similar to "Illusions" but specialising in men who want to be treated as little girls or some other fantasy figure." "Well there we might be able to advise you," exclaimed Imogene, with considerably more enthusiasm in her voice. "But first why don't we get you dressed in role. After all you have paid for a dressing session; you might as well enjoy it!" She and I hurried upstairs to the Illusions make-over room where I stripped off and donned female underwear, whilst Imogene busied herself in the wardrobe looking for an appropriate costume. Eventually she returned with her arms full of clothes. "I'm sure we can find a few exciting outfits amongst this lot," she said, "but first I need to do your makeup. How do you feel about being a redhead? It is a strong, dominant colour and you have that wig you purchased some time ago that I know you haven't worn much. By going red as opposed to blonde, you will create a different professional female persona as compared with one you become socially." This was good idea and one that hadn't occurred to me, so I agreed eagerly. Imogene busied herself applying a makeup based on green and brown tones around my eyes, with lots of mascara and heavy false eyelashes. She used a strong red lipstick and painted my finger nails in a matching shade. She found a wig similar to my own red one and pinned it to my head. She spent quite a long time pinning it up on the top of my head whilst allowing long strands to fall either side of my face and over my shoulders. It was a very striking style. When she was satisfied with my makeup and hair, Imogene turned her attention to my clothes. I hadn't needed to wear a corset recently, but now Imogene produced a fearsome one. It was a shiny black satin; heavily boned and with bra-cups that forced the flesh on my chest up into a spectacular cleavage - especially after breast forms had been inserted. Ultra-long, sheer, black stockings were rolled up my legs and clipped to the suspender clasps hanging from the bottom of the corset. Five-inch heeled patent shoes, with an ankle strap were fastened on my feet and I tottered slightly as I stood up. My mouth dropped as Imogene produced a dress for me to wear. "I'll never fit into that!" I gasped. It was shiny black pvc; with clips fastening the bodice and a zip that ran from the waist to the hem. "Oh yes you will!" replied Imogene with a smile and immediately proceeded to slip my arms through the shoulder straps and start to tug the front edges of the garment together. Against all my better judgement, Imogene did succeed in engaging the clasps holding the bodice together. She tugged and pulled as she struggled to close the zipper down the front. Eventually she succeeded and then adjusted the position of the fasteners, so that the front of the dress was open from half way down my thighs to the floor. I could hardly breathe, but I did look amazing! Lace sleeves - (like long gloves without hands) - were pulled up my arms and long, glittery earrings clipped to my lobes. A simple black stone hung at my throat. I was complete! Imogene stood back and looked at me critically. "Well you certainly look the part of a Dominatrix," she said with a smile. "Now if you can manage to navigate the stairs in that outfit; let's go and give Paul the surprise of his life!" I'm still not quite clear as to how I managed to get downstairs wearing that outfit. It was so tight that I could only move my legs from the knee down. However, one way or another, I got to the bottom without having fallen or twisting my ankle. I tottered across to the lounge and posed, hopefully in a sexy manner, against the frame. "Hallo Big Boy," I cooed to Paul, who was sitting sorting out the lens on his camera. He looked up; "Holy s**t," he gasped, "that is an amazing transformation. I would never have thought you could carry of a look like that, but you are a Dominatrix from the top of your head to the tip of your vicious spike heel!" I was flattered and would have dropped Paul a curtsey had my dress allowed it. We spent the next half-hour or so with me posing for a series of photos. Imogene fetched me various props from her wardrobe - riding crop; handcuffs; cane; etc - and Paul encouraged me to use them in all sorts of sexy, domineering ways. After the first round of photos, Imogene hurried me back upstairs and helped me out of my pvc hobble dress and heels. She produced a wonderful pair of black, leather, thigh-high boots with a platform sole and a seven - (yes seven!) - inch heel. She swapped my lace sleeves for ultra-long opera gloves that extended nearly up to my armpit. A magenta coloured feather boa added a final note of frivolity to my ensemble and, just before letting me return downstairs, Imogene removed the hairpins from my wig, allowing the hair to tumble freely around my shoulders. A further photographic session ensured. It was now midday and Imogene suggested we pause for a light lunch. "Whilst we have been playing around, I have thought of some other outfits that I think would be ideal for your proposed new role. If you haven't got any commitments this evening, why don't you stay for dinner and then we will have loads to time to try out new images for you." As I didn't have anything else planned, I was happy to accede to her suggestion. She gave me a gorgeous black negligee, trimmed with red ribbons, to slip over my minimal outfit whilst we had lunch. However I don't think it concealed a great deal and, if anything, made me even more an object for dalliance! After lunch Imogene suggested we try out some costumes that might appeal to sissies. "They will probably expect you to be in some form of parental role," she explained, "so a Dominatrix image wouldn't be appropriate." She started me off with a severe "Schoolmistress" look; my hair rolled into a tight bun on the nape of my neck; a dark green, long-sleeved silk blouse; knee-length, pale grey, pencil skirt; black stockings and heels; and "cat- eye" glasses. Once again I spent time posing with a cane. Next, Imogene put me into a nurse's outfit. This time, however, she went for a fun look; a pale-blue, very short, nylon dress, with white frilly petticoats and knickers underneath; white bibbed-apron and cap; tan stockings and white heels. This time I was asked to pose holding a baby's feeding bottle; a pack of disposable nappies; and an obscene penis-shaped dummy! I don't think we need to experiment with "Mumsey" type clothing" Imogene mussed. "From what you have told me about your session with Duncan, you have got that look under control. However, you could try out a sissy-dress yourself just to feel what it is like." She dressed me in a pretty pink and white check dress with a long pink sash that tied in a floppy bow at my waist. My stockings were swapped for a pair of nude tights, over which I wore a pair of white ankle socks with pink trimmings and a pair of black-patent, high-heeled Mary-Jane shoes. Imogene put my red hair up, with a pair of bunches, tided off with pink ribbon, either side of my head. Paul encouraged me to pose in with the feeding bottle and afore- mentioned dummy!!! All VERY embarrassing, but Imogene encouraged me by explaining that it always helped to understand what a client was looking for. Eventually a long afternoon drew to a close and Imogene suggested we call it a day. "Why don't you and I get changed for the evening" she suggested. "Paul can load your photographs onto a CD and then, whilst he changes, you and I can prepare dinner. After photographing you in all those costumes this afternoon, I imagine Paul can't wait to get into a dress himself and become "Paula" for the evening! So that is what we did. Imogene suggested that we both tart ourselves up in a way that reflected the "dominant" mood we had been playing with all day. She found me a short, tight, black satin skirt that was so close-fitting that you could see the clasps of my suspenders through it! Naturally I was back in sheer, black stockings and spike-heeled shoes. A fabulous burgundy coloured silk blouse was worn over the skirt and set off with a black elastic belt. The bodice and sleeves were heavily ruched and the boat-shaped neckline exposed my shoulders and bra straps. Imogene said this look was very fashionable! Once again she let my red hair down so that it tumbled loosely down to my breasts. She found me a fabulous necklace comprising a ceramic ring of black and burgundy, suspended from a rope of cornelian beads. For herself she chose a black leather skirt, worn over fishnet tights; with a black satin bustier that compressed her breasts into a spectacular cleavage. Shunning her natural hair, she too chose to wear a wig. In her case it was a neck-length, curly, brunette one that complemented her outfit very well. We two then went downstairs whilst Paul set about transforming himself into Paula. Imogene and I prepared a dinner of steak and salad and, at her request; I selected a rather nice Cote-de-Rh?ne wine from their cellar. When she rejoined us, Paula was dressed in a fetching little number that continued our "strong women" theme. She had chosen a tan-and-black skirt printed in a leaf pattern; a green-gold cotton sweater with a gold chain belt; and gold strappy sandals. Her piece-de-resistance, however, was her hair. She was wearing a blonde wig of very tight curls that fell in a loose mane nearly to her waist; it was wild and very striking. Heavy gold jewellery and rather too much makeup for good taste resulted in a somewhat aggressive, slutty image. Naturally quite a bit of time was spent as we each complimented and commented on our different outfits. Paula cracked open a bottle of fizz so that we could toast our successful day. As a result we were all a bit tiddley by the time we sat down to dinner. By the time we were finished I was in no state to drive home, so Imogene suggested I stay over. She loaned me a nightdress and, after cleaning off my makeup, I collapsed into bed and slept soundly! The next morning I had to ring my boss and explain that circumstances had required me to spend the night with my sick relative and would he mind too much if I took another day's leave! He grumbled a bit but eventually agreed. This meant that, as there were no bookings for Illusions, I had another day to talk through my ideas with Paul and Imogene. Naturally I dressed en-femme once more, as did Paul, but this time instead of trying out different costumes, we sat around the table drawing up detailed plans of what would be involved if I proceeded with my idea of setting up a fantasy dressing service. I won't bore you with the minutiae of our discussion. Suffice it to say we talked long and hard; weighing up the pros and cons of different options and, all the time, Imogene and Paul kept quizzing me to make sure I really meant to go through with my plans. By the end of our discussion, we had arrived at the following conclusion: * I was serious about wanting to see whether I could make a success of running a dressing service for men with sissy and submissive fantasies. * I could use some of the spare rooms in the house I had inherited from my Mother to create a dungeon; nursery; etc. (In Mummy day, her house had been home to the two of us plus, at any one time, maybe four female lodgers. It was far too big for me on my own.) * I would cost a fair bit of money to set up my dressing service, but I was prepared to use some of the money Mummy had left me in her will. * I lacked the skills to run it on my own and would need help. (Imogene said she knew one or two people who might be willing to get involved. She would talk to them and, if they showed interest, I could interview them.) * Imogene made me promise that if my business wasn't showing a growing profit after six months, I would call it a day and not waste all my inheritance on a false dream. Well, I now had a plan and Imogene and Paul's promise that they would help me get started. They could only offer limited assistance because they had their own business to run, but they would do what they could. They really are great friends. The next thing I had to do was research what similar services already existed in my chosen area of activity. Fortunately with the internet, this wasn't too difficult an exercise. I was relieved to discover that there wasn't anyone offering the type of service I provided anywhere with 100 miles of where I lived. The few that were advertising on the web were openly touting sexual services, something I had no intention of getting into. Further research of dressing services, mostly in the USA, gave me a good idea of the sort of facilities I would have to install. I blanched a bit about the prices of some of the more specialised pieces of equipment and rapidly came to the conclusion that imagination and wit were going to be important if I was to complete the setting up of my service within an affordable budget. Although they had come to dine with me socially, neither Imogene nor Paul had ever seen round the whole of my house, so the following weekend I invited them over for a critical inspection as to its suitability as a location for supplying fetish services. Mummy's house had been built in the early 20th century as a home for a prosperous businessman with a large family and servants. It was detached and set in its own, secluded grounds. Mummy had inherited it from her own parents and it was now worth a great deal of money - (either as a house in its own right or as a site with potential for development.) Imogene and Paul were very impressed with my house. "It is well set back from the road," Paul commented, "so clients can park securely and come and go without being observed by neighbours." Imogene was more interested in the potential of the rooms that had been left unused since Mummy died or, in some cases, for much longer. "You already have a nursery," she exclaimed with delight as we entered the upper floor of the old house and came to the rooms used by the children and their Nurses back in the halcyon days of Edwardian England. "All it needs is a thorough cleaning. I would leave the old faded decorations and children's toys," she said. "These add to its charms and will delight your sissy clients!" She was equally impressed with the old servant's quarters at the rear of the house and in the basement. There were storerooms; cellars; an old kitchen complete with range; scullery; and an old laundry which still retained its copper, sinks and mangle. "I can imagine submissive maids swooning at being ordered to work in these rooms," she cried with delight. "And one of the cellars would make a fantastic dungeon! I think you will be able to set up your facilities much more cheaply than we originally envisaged." Paul gave me the telephone number of Brian, a DIY handyman he had employed from time to time in connection with Illusions and who had proved to be discrete and trustworthy. He said that he was sure Brian would be happy to quote for the work that would be necessary. The three of us spent the rest of the day sketching plans for how I wanted the rooms set up. On the Monday I rang Brian and explained what work I needed undertaken. I was open with him about setting up a fantasy dressing service and he seemed completely un-phased at the prospect; I guess a job is a job! Brian called round on the Monday evening when I got home from work and we went through my various plans. He took my sketches away and a few days later I received his quote for the alterations in the post. They were much more reasonable than I had anticipated and I booked him by return phone call. It took Brian about two weeks to complete the alterations to my house. When he had finished I was the proud possessors of the following facilities: A Nursery: Tucked away on the top floor of the house, the Nursery retained all its Edwardian charm. Faded pink distemper coloured the walls which were decorated with pictures of kittens and bunny rabbits; an old rocking horse stood in one corner and a basket full of dolls and cuddly toys lay in another. There was an old iron bedstead, newly painted white with pretty pink sheets and duvet. A table and low plastic chairs stood ready for a tea party of sissy girls and boys, whilst a changing mat and feeding bottle awaited those who wanted to be treated as babies. Next door, in what had been the Nurse's room, a rack of sissy clothes in nylon and satin stood waiting to be used by their first customers. A Kitchen and Laundry: Downstairs the old kitchen and laundry area had been transformed. The range gleamed under a coat of fresh black paint. Tubs of pre-prepared dirt and grease stood ready to be smeared over its shiny surface, just so as a submissive maid could work her socks - (stockings?) - off cleaning it. A heavy duty vinyl floor had been laid; again so that a maid could get down on her knees to scrub it. There were various other surprises awaiting the poor unsuspecting drudge! A Dungeon and Punishment Area: In the cellar one old store room had been fitted out as a dungeon with ropes and chains hanging from hooks in the ceiling. (These had originally been installed to hang meat and game on!) Pairs of handcuffs, manacles and leg irons hung from pegs on the wall; alongside an array of canes, whips and paddles. There were going to be some red and sore bottoms if I had anything to do with it! Brian had cleverly made me an X-frame upon which extreme submissives could be suspended, and a throne-like chair equipped with clamps and restraints. (He really was a very skilled handyman! I think he quite enjoyed putting these things together and I wondered if he was secretly dreaming of using them on others or having them applied to him! Another room had been set up as a Punishment area where naughty people could be confined and subjected to extreme cold. (I picked up an industrial chiller unit very cheaply on ebay!) Both upstairs and down I had had toilet and shower facilities installed exclusively for use by my clients. (I didn't want anyone coming into my private part of the house. It was still going to be my home when all is said and done and I had no intention of allowing the professional side of my life to conflict with my personal one. I decided to give my new facilities a "try out" and asked Duncan if would like to be an "experimental sissy" for me. He jumped at the invitation and asked whether he could bring a couple of friends with him. "You made such a forceful "Auntie" that day you came over here" he told me, "that I have been enthusing to a number of acquaintances with similar tastes to mine and there are several who are dying to meet you. If I can bring "Pansy" and "Gloria" with me to try out your new service, the word will go round the sissy community like wildfire and I'm sure you will get loads of bookings." Well this was just what I needed to hear so I agreed that the three sissies could come for a trial session the following Sunday. I was really nervous. I so wanted this initial session to go well that I hardly slept the whole week; I was too busy checking and double checking in my mind that everything I would need was in place. I had decided on a "Schoolmarm" persona for this inaugural session, so, early Sunday morning, I dressed in clothes similar to those I had tried out at Illusions and pinned my wig into a severe bun. I made up my face quite plainly with heavily penciled brows; thin, bright red lips; pale complexion; and, of course my glasses. My charcoal grey, chalk-stripe, pencil skirt hugged my tightly corseted waist and legs. My cream blouse was high-necked with frills down the front. I had found just the right pair of shoes; lace-ups with a three-inch heel in a brown brogue. They looked perfect teamed with 20-denier dark brown tights. My three sissies all arrived together in Duncan's car. He had a broad grin on his face and was clearly looking forward to his day. The other two, Pansy and Gloria as they introduced themselves to me, looked eager but apprehensive. As I showed them into the house I quietly whispered in Duncan's ear not to expect any sexual favours today. He looked disappointed but nodded his head in understanding. I took the three of them upstairs to the Nursery. Their jaws dropped when they saw it REALLY was a nursery and not some tame mock-up. "Now girls; out of those naughty clothes and into your proper things" I scolded them. "You can each pick a dress from the rack. Eager the three grown men hurried across to my rack of the some twelve "little girl" dresses I had managed to source off ebay, and I had to smile inwardly at the sight of them arguing who was going to wear which! Eventually they each chose one and went into another room to change. I gave them each a pair of frilly white knickers to get them started, but kept the rest of their clothing back for later. In a few minutes they were back, looking slightly ridiculous in dresses but without wigs or makeup. In turn I applied a light makeup to their faces - (I couldn't compete with Imogene in this skill) - and fitted them with wigs. Dolly's was blonde with long ringlets; Pansy's chestnut and tied off in a high pony-tail. For Gloria I selected an auburn wig with big bunches falling over her ears. Immediately they all looked more feminine. "Now girls" I said to them, "we don't want any nasty accidents do we? I think you had better all wear nappies whilst you Auntie's guests." I could see the excitement in their faces as, in turn, I got them to lay down on the changing mat, which I had put on the bed, and, first removing their knickers, fitted them with a disposable nappy and replaced their frilly underwear. They all had erections at the prospect of being nappied, and I have to confess I was quite firm in pushing them down and out of sight. From their grimaces I think this was a bit painful; I loved the sense of power it gave me and I could feel a stirring in my own panties! To complete their ensembles I gave them opaque, white, stay-up stockings and black Mary Jane shoes. Pansy was wearing a blue and white check gingham dress with a little apron and bib. Her pony-tail was tied off with a blue silk ribbon that fluttered down her back. Gloria had on a peach coloured satin party dress with puff sleeves and wore a large matching bow in her hair. Dolly had managed to get her hands on my best dress. It was a very pale pink satin, overlaid with tiers of white lace across the bodice and down the skirt. All three wore frilly stiff petticoats that peeped delightful from under the hems of their dresses. I had the three of them sit down at the little table. Their long legs protruded awkwardly from under their skirts as they tried to get comfortable in the low chairs and, inevitably, their pretty knickers were much in evidence! When they were settled I gave them each a bottle of warm orange squash and instructed them to drink it all down quickly. I could see Dolly grinning; she knew what they were in for, the others didn?t! I assumed the role of schoolmistress and proceeded to give them a lesson in arithmetic. When they got an answer wrong ? (and some of my questions were deliberately obtuse) ? the miscreant had to come to the front of the class and bend over my table whilst I administered a light paddling on the bottom. With their nappies on this cannot have been very painful but their embarrassment was a delight to behold. We then played various childish games such as Ring-a-Ring-a Roses; musical chairs; and so on. At intervals I made them drink more squash. At lunch time I served them lukewarm baby food in plastic bowls which they had to eat with a spoon. Yet more squash was served in two-handled, covered beakers. By the time lunch was over Pansy and Gloria were starting to squirm. I suspect Dolly had been holding back a bit on the amount she drank, so I gave her another full feeding bottle and stood over her until she had drained it all. She too was now feeling the need to empty her bladder. I studiously ignored their discomfort and, cruelly, made them skip round the room. At last Pansy could hold herself no longer and, with a sob, wet her nappy. Gloria and Dolly couldn?t last much longer and soon I had three little girls all sobbing and apologising to ?Auntie? for having wet their nappies. I had no intention of getting my hands messy, so made each of them in turn change one of the others. Once they were all dry again I sat them on the floor with the basket of dolls and soft toys and had them play at ?Teddy Bear?s Picnic.? All too soon their three hour session was up and I sent them off to change out of their finery and to take a shower. As they changed back from being little girls into grown men, I reflected upon just how much I had enjoyed ordering them around and seeing them jump at my every command. I clearly was getting into the dominant role! Dolly, Pansy and Gloria all returned to the nursery, scrubbed and clean of makeup and back in their boring male drab. As I showed them out Pansy and Gloria each handed me an envelope containing money. Dolly whispered to me; ?I know this was a try-out session, but the other two felt it only fair that we should pay you something to show our appreciation;? so saying he handed me his envelope as well. When they had driven away, I went into my lounge and opened the three envelopes. They contained ?300 each. For three hours work I had made ?900! This clearly could prove to be a lucrative business ? particularly compared with the pittance I received for my work as an archivist. I made myself a cup of tea and sat back in my armchair to reflect on the day. I had not only made a tidy sum of money, but had really enjoyed myself as well. As I looked down over my swelling bosom in its pretty frilly blouse to my tight skirt and elegantly crossed legs, I came to the realisation that, come what may, I was going to throw in my boring old day job and give this new business a chance. After all, as I had been paid for my services, I was now definitely a genuine ?Madam?!!! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Note for Readers: There is clearly plenty of scope and potential to continue with more stories about Geriant?s transformation into ?Sonia? and her experiences running a fantasy dressing service. However, I seem to have written myself into a bit of a corner. I am not personally familiar with the activities of sissies and other submissive males and I would not want to want to misrepresent them in my writing. Reluctantly therefore, I feel the time has come to end this particular story and start dreaming up the next one. Sorry if anyone feels I have let them down. Regards, Caroline