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Ambassador's Daughter 2 I woke up at 6 am the next morning to a knock on my bedroom door. Marta said it was time to rise and shine. She laid out my outfit for the day; a white shirt, black trousers and black shoes. I got a new pair of underpants out of my drawer. Most of my new underpants were pastel shades like blue, pink and green. I figured with black pants it didn't matter what color of underwear I wore so I just took the one on top which was pink. The shirt was long sleeved and there were four brass buttons at each cuff. The collar tabs were long and pointed. It buttoned like a girl's blouse, not a boy's shirt. The trousers were made of some kind of a lightweight synthetic fabric and had a kind of shiny surface. They fit tight at my waist and were quite long. The shoes Marta selected were a very shiny black; like the patent leather shoes girls sometimes wear. They also had a thick block heel and were decorated with a large silver buckle. Once my shoes were on, the pant length seemed just right as the shoes must have added two or three inches to my height. I took my wig from the wig form and stood before my bathroom mirror putting it on. I combed it out a little just like I would do if it was my own hair. I liked how I looked with long blond hair. I know it made me look almost like a girl, but for some reason that really didn't bother me. I met Marta in the kitchen. She insisted I put on the frilly pink apron again to protect my nice new clothes. With her help and supervision I prepared orange juice, scrambled eggs and made toast for us both. After I cleared the dining room table and cleaned up the kitchen I was to meet Marta in the library to begin my studies. There is a reading table in the library and that was to be my school desk. I sat on a straight backed unpadded wooden chair. There were several books, a tablet of paper and pens on the table. Marta handed me a printed class schedule with a column for each day of the week and a row for each hour of the school day. On Monday through Thursday the morning classes were identical; French at 9, Poetry at 10 and Art History at 11. The afternoon schedule alternated between music and dance with music on Monday and Wednesday, and dance on Tuesday and Thursday. The full day Friday was blocked out for New York School of Design. I studied the schedule carefully. Something was missing. "Miss Schwartz, didn't you say last night that I'll be taking etiquette and home economics? I don't see them on my schedule." "Etiquette is something we will focus on whenever we are together Melissa. For example last night I taught you the proper way to hold a cigarette. There are no formal classes for etiquette. As for home economics, you already had an hour of that this morning preparing and serving breakfast. Your home economics course encompasses preparation and serving our meals, doing our laundry, house cleaning, etc." "Yes Miss, I understand now. I guess I don't need a text book for that kind of work, except for things like cook books." "Now, class is in session. Open your French book to chapter one and read aloud." The morning went by quickly. I was impressed by Marta's knowledge and teaching ability. Even though I had never had any interest in stuff like art and poetry, she had a way of making them interesting; of making the subjects come alive. She would have me read a poem and then write a short essay on what the poem was about; what the author was trying to say. It made me really think about what I was reading. It also would make me a better writer. After three hours of classes I was back in my apron in the kitchen preparing our lunch. I felt good about doing that. Not only was I helping Marta by doing some of the housework, but I was learning new things at the same time. After lunch Marta drove me to my first music lesson. As we pulled down the driveway I said "Miss Schwartz, will I be learning how to play a musical instrument?" "Perhaps later, but initially you'll be taking voice lessons. You will learn how to read music and hopefully your voice can be trained to sing." She dropped me off at this small music studio in one of the nearby suburbs. My voice instructor was a Miss Johns. The lesson was for an hour and Marta came into the studio as we were finishing. She turned to Miss Johns. ?How was Melissa?s lesson?? ?At times he still has a lovely soprano voice, but his voice keeps cracking. He can?t stay in the higher registers for long.? ?Oh dear, I was afraid of that. Puberty certainly does mess with the vocal cords. I was so hoping you could train Melissa to be a soprano.? ?I?m afraid it will only get worse Mrs. Wellington. He will never be a natural soprano without some modifications.? ?Modifications?? ?Well there is a procedure that can retune a boy?s vocal cords to keep him in a higher register.? ?Really? I wasn?t aware of that. Please tell me more Miss Johns.? ?It works very much like a violin. When you press a string to the fingerboard it shortens the effective length of the vibrating string and raises the pitch. An otolaryngologist developed the procedure. Small stainless steel clips are crimped around the vocal cords to shorten them, giving the boy a soprano voice. It is an alternative to the old days when the choir boys were castrato. Most cultures frown on that approach these days.? ?That sounds like a perfect solution. Do you have someone I could contact about this?? ?There is no one in the DC area that I am aware of. There is one doctor in New York who works on singer's vocal cords. I can give you his name and number if you like.? ?Yes please do. Thank you so much. Melissa and I will be in New York at the end of the week. I can look into it then.? Back in the car I turned to Marta. ?I guess my voice lesson didn?t go very well Miss Schwartz. I just couldn?t stay in tune. I?m really sorry.? ?There is nothing to be sorry about Melissa. It?s not your fault that your voice is beginning to change. Your body is beginning to produce testosterone and that triggers many bodily changes, including your voice.? ?Miss Johns said something about in the old times the choir boys were castrato? What does that mean?? ?It means they were castrated; their testicles were surgically removed so that their voices would remain sweet and pure.? ?God I sure wouldn?t want that to happen to me Miss.? ?That sort of thing is rarely done anymore Melissa; it?s against the law to castrate boys without their permission.? ?I?m glad we're civilized and have laws like that now Miss. I sure wouldn?t want anyone to castrate me without my permission.? ?Castrations are still performed of course. Boys who decide they want to become girls will often request that procedure. They either have surgery or take drugs to achieve the same effect.? ?I guess if a boy didn?t want to be a boy anymore; if he wanted to be a girl, it would make sense to get castrated wouldn?t it?? ?Yes I?m sure it would make the boy feel much more feminine once his testicles were removed.? ?You sure know about a lot of different stuff Miss Schwartz. I learn things just by being around you and listening to you talk.? She pulled the car into a drugstore. We walked down the cosmetics isle. Marta picked out several tubes of lipstick as well as a complete makeup kit. She paid for it at the checkout and then handed me the bag. ?You have your very own makeup now Melissa. You will no longer have to borrow my lipstick. Now anytime you want to disguise yourself as a girl you'll have everything you need.? ?Thank you Miss Schwartz, you are really nice to buy me all these things.? ?We have one more stop and then we can go home and relax before supper.? ?What stop is that Miss?? ?You need dancewear for your class tomorrow afternoon. There is a shop not far from here.? We pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall. Marta turned to me. ?Why don?t you put on a little of your new makeup before we go in Melissa?? ?Thank you Miss, I'd like that. Which shade of lipstick should I use?? ?Try the pink. I think that will go well with your long blond hair.? So I put on two layers of pink lipstick and we entered the dancewear shop. Marta spoke to the clerk. ?I?ve enrolled my daughter in a ballet class. She will need two outfits plus ballet slippers.? I couldn?t help but grin when she called me her daughter, although technically she should have said step daughter. My dance outfits consisted of leotards and pantyhose. Marta selected the colors; one pink and one a pale blue. I stood silently trying to digest what was happening. Back in the car I said, ?Miss Schwartz. In the shop you referred to me as your daughter. I know I?m just your stepson, but I thought it was really nice of you to tell the clerk I was your daughter.? ?Well Melissa, when you're disguised as a girl it?s natural for me to think of you as my daughter. I was never able to have children of my own and always wanted a little girl so if you don?t mind, I would like to continue to refer to you as my daughter.? ?No Miss, I don?t mind that at all. Miss, if you are going to call me your daughter, then would it be ok if I called you ? mother?? Marta reached over and wrapped her arms around me and kissed me on the lips. ?Nothing would please me more Melissa dear.? ?Miss ? mother, I thought my dance class would be like ballroom dancing with boys and girls in a class.? ?It most certainly is not Melissa. I won?t have you rubbing obscenely against some member of the opposite sex, or the same sex for that matter. I have enrolled you in private lessons for classic ballet. It will be excellent exercise and should help you to improve your balance and poise.? ?I remember the guys at school talking about ballet one time and they said boys who take ballet lessons are gay.? ?I?m sure there are some gay ballet dancers just as there are gay football players and gay soldiers. You?ve already told me you?re not gay, so the fact that you will be studying ballet seems to disprove your old classmate?s assertion that all the boys who study ballet are gay.? ?Yes you?re right Miss. By taking ballet lessons I?ll just prove those guys wrong, won?t I?? Back at the estate I put away my new dancewear and met Marta back in the library. It was six pm and time for our wine and cigarettes. I held one of the long slender cigarettes while Marta lit it. I inhaled and held the cigarette in front of my face. There was no lipstick on the tip. ?Miss Schwartz, I ? I forgot to freshen up my lipstick. Do you mind if I run up to my room and do that now?? ?If you are going to wear makeup you really should carry it with you, so you can repair it as needed.? As if to demonstrate her point Marta reached into her purse, took out a tube of lipstick and applied a fresh coat to her lips. ?I don?t think all that makeup will fit in my pants pockets Miss Schwartz.? ?That?s why people who wear makeup need to carry purses. I?ll buy you a purse tomorrow it you wish.? ?Well I ? yes Miss that would be fine. Maybe some time I can get my own cigarettes and a lighter and carry that in my purse too.? ?You are too young to buy tobacco Melissa, but perhaps I could give you a pack to carry if you like.? ?Thank you Miss. I?ll go put on lipstick now. Be right back.? I returned to the library wearing a generous coat of pink lipstick. I lit another cigarette and was pleased to see that the filter tip was nicely coated in pink, in contrast to the deep red lipstick Marta wears. I looked at the hand holding my cigarette. I wore a ring on my third finger and a silver bracelet at my wrist. I looked down at my black patent leather shoes with the big silver buckles. It occurred to me that Marta had chosen my shoes to tie in to the silver jewelry I wore. After finishing our wine we went to the kitchen where I donned my apron and prepared supper under Marta?s watchful eye. After supper I did a little laundry and was once more in bed by 8 pm. The next school day morning was much like the first. That afternoon I put on pantyhose, a leotard and ballet slippers. Marta drove me to the dance studio which was about half an hour from the estate. The dance instructor taught me some of the basic positions and had me moving to music. She was rather stern and carried this stick with her that was about a foot long and a quarter inch in diameter. She would tap the stick in time to the music as she gave me instructions. On three occasions she swatted me with the stick to correct some error I had made. It stung, but wasn?t really that painful. I felt more humiliation than pain, but I guess that was her teaching style and I figured I better pay attention and do the best I could to please her. By the end of my first dance class I was exhausted. I had no idea ballet would be so physically demanding. I knew I would have sore muscles by the next day. But I felt good about the ballet class and actually looked forward to my next class. Wednesday afternoon I was back at the music studio. After a few minutes Miss Johns threw up her hands in despair. ?Melissa, I can do nothing to help you unless you get your vocal cords fixed. I am cancelling all of your lesson appointments. Please have your mother call me if and when your voice is corrected and I will be happy to have you back as a student.? Tears streamed down my face. I felt like a failure not only to Miss Johns, but more importantly to my step mother. When Marta picked me up after my voice lesson I told her what had happened. She didn?t seem that surprised. ?I?ve already made an appointment for you with the otolaryngologist in New York. He explained the procedure to me and I went ahead and scheduled you for Saturday. He said it involves crimping little stainless steel rings to your vocal cords.? ?Will I have to go to a hospital Miss?? ?He does the procedure in his office under local anesthetic. As the doctor explained it to me, installation of the metal rings is no more traumatic than getting your ears pierced.? ?Hey, I?ve already had my ears pierced four times, so I guess having a few more pieces of metal stuck in my throat won?t be that big a deal.? ?Yes I?m sure that you will experience little or no pain and when it is over you will have a much lovelier voice.? ?That sounds great Miss. So we're going to New York Friday morning and coming back Saturday?? ?Actually I have booked the train for Thursday afternoon, coming back Sunday. You will be in your fashion class all day Friday and seeing the otolaryngologist Saturday morning. That gives us time to see a play Thursday night and to do some shopping Saturday afternoon.? ?That sounds like great fun Miss Schwartz. I?m really excited that we?ll get to spend time together in the big city.? ?Oh I almost forgot, I bought you a present while you were in your voice class.? She handed me a shopping bag. Inside was a beautiful dark brown leather purse that I knew would be big enough to hold all of my cosmetics plus cigarettes and anything else I might need to carry. ?Oh thank you Miss Schwartz. The purse is beautiful. I just love the smell of new leather.? ?Yes leather does have a very sensual smell doesn?t it Melissa? Perhaps when we are in New York we can find you some other nice leather things.? She handed me another paper sack. ?Here are a couple of things you can put in your new purse Melissa.? I opened the sack and inside was a package of Eve 120 Menthols and a silver cigarette lighter. Miss Schwartz?s lighter was gold, but I realized she chose silver for me because I was wearing silver jewelry. She thinks of everything! ?Oh thank you so much Miss.? I looked more closely at my new lighter. She had it engraved with ?Melissa?. I smiled and thanked her again for being so generous and thoughtful. Thursday morning I had my usual school classes and that afternoon my second ballet lesson. I was noticeably stiff and sore from using muscles which I must have never used before, but the class went well and I only got swatted with the stick twice. Back home I packed for our trip to New York. I used the same suitcase that I had brought home from Parkworth but instead of filling it with military uniforms and olive drab underpants it was filled with my nice new trousers, shirts, shoes and panties. I enjoyed the train ride to New York. Unlike an airplane, on a train you can look out the window and actually see things. Although in some cases the view from the rail line was kind of like looking at buildings from the back alley instead of the boulevard. We took a cab from Penn Station to Marta?s apartment. It was small; there was a living room, a galley kitchen, a bathroom and one bedroom with two beds. I realized that I would have to sleep in the same room as my step mother, which both excited and kind of embarrassed me. After unpacking we had an early supper and then took in a new play on Broadway. I didn?t really like the play all that much but Marta raved about it so I nodded my head in agreement. After the play we went back to her apartment. We each had a cigarette and a glass of wine before retiring for the night. The next morning Marta put me in a cab and gave the driver the address of the New York School of Design. She gave me some money for cab fare which I stuck in my new purse. I got there about 8 am and my instruction lasted until five. I caught a cab back to our apartment. When I walked in Marta saw that I was carrying two cases. I put them down on the floor in the sitting room and flopped down in a chair. ?How was your day Melissa?? ?It was good. My clothing instructor is really nice and she knows like everything about fashion and textiles and all that.? ?What on earth is in those two cases?? ?Would you believe a sewing machine, and some fabric, and patterns?? ?It sounds like my Melissa has some homework for next week.? ?Gosh I sure do Miss. I have to sew a skirt by my next class.? ?Why a skirt Melissa? Why not something you can wear?? ?My teacher said that skirts are the easiest thing for beginners to sew since there aren?t that many pieces and it?s mostly straight stitching.? ?Yes that makes sense. So tell me all about your first day at the School of Design.? ?It was really neat Miss. They have all this high tech stuff there that they use to design and make clothes. The first thing they did was take all of my measurements. And I mean ALL of my measurements. The instructor and one of the other students measured me in like a hundred different places and wrote everything down on a form and then I had to enter all the data into this computer program.? Marta lit a cigarette. I took that as my lead so I used my new lighter and a cigarette from my purse and lit my very own as well. ?Anyway you know how like if you go to a clothing store there are sizes like 6, 8, 10, etc.? The problem with buying clothes off the rack is that they rarely fit right. According to the computer I?m a size 7.6 so a size six is too small and a size eight will be a little too big. But the computer makes patterns based on my actual measurements so after entering all the data and running the program it printed out a pattern for a size 7.6 skirt! If I do a good job of cutting and sewing it I bet it will fit me perfect.? ?I had no idea that computer technology has even taken over something as basic as dressmaking.? ?Anyway, I printed out the skirt pattern on this thin tissue paper and they gave me the fabric, a zipper, a button and thread to lay it out and cut it and sew it. It has to be finished by next Friday?s class. I?m supposed to wear it to class and then the instructor will grade me on it. It?s just like having to do homework and turning it in and the teacher grades it.? ?How will you feel about wearing a skirt Melissa? Skirts are not something boys normally wear; even effeminate little boys like you.? ?I?ve been thinking about that Miss Schwartz. I figure it?s just another disguise. Anyone who sees me in a skirt will just figure I?m a girl, especially with my wig and makeup. And maybe I can wear a pair of the pantyhose from my dance outfits, and maybe I could get a new pair of shoes that look more like girl?s shoes if you think that would be ok Miss.? ?Yes Melissa, that sounds like a very good plan. And I agree about getting you new shoes. In a skirt a girl?s shoes are so much more visible. It would make a much better disguise if you wore some very feminine footwear.? ?Yes Miss, maybe I should wear something really girly like high heels.? Marta hugged me and gave me a kiss on the lips. ?High heels would be perfect. No one would ever dream that a boy would be out in public in a skirt and high heels. And after tomorrow you?ll even have a girl?s voice won?t you dear?? ?I ? I hadn?t thought about it that way Miss. I know that I need my vocal cords fixed so I can sing soprano, but I guess after tomorrow I?ll have a kind of girly voice all the time; not just when I sing.? ?Yes Melissa, I expect your normal speaking voice will be much closer to that of a girl after tomorrow.? ?Oh there is one more thing Miss. I have to get a corset. My instructor said that my figure is like too straight up and down and a skirt wouldn?t look right so I need a corset that will take two inches off my waistline. The computer generated pattern for my skirt project was adjusted for that, so without a corset I wouldn?t even be able to get it on. She gave me the name of a corset shop that she recommends.? ?That?s fine. We can go corset shopping after your doctor?s appointment tomorrow. I agree with your instructor that you'll look much nicer in a skirt if you have a smaller waist.? We ate a light meal at a bistro near the apartment and were back by 8 pm. I slept pretty well considering that my new step mother was in the same room as me, and that I was going to have some doctor putting wires in my throat in the morning. Saturday morning Marta and I took a cab to an office building on 59th street. The receptionist let us through security and we took an elevator to the 38th floor. The otolaryngologist, Doctor Gordon was waiting for us. There was no one else in his offices. He sprayed some kind of local anesthetic in my throat and then fed a flexible laryngoscope down my throat which let him see my vocal cords. Once the scope was inserted he took another instrument and fed that down. He explained everything he was doing as he went along, which helped me relax though I was pretty nervous having never experienced anything like that before. The second instrument held a C shaped ring of stainless steel which he put around one of the vocal folds in my larynx. Then he squeezed a trigger thing which crimped the ring tight around the fold. He repeated the process a total of six times. Other than the discomfort of holding my mouth wide open there really was no pain involved in the procedure. After he finished, Marta and I sat in Doctor Gordon?s office. ?Melissa I want you to remain silent for the next forty eight hours. There will be some initial swelling in your larynx but after two days you should be fine to resume normal speech. Just try not to do any screaming or yelling ok?? I smiled and nodded my head in the affirmative. ?The procedure is still a bit experimental so I can?t be sure of the final pitch you will attain. You were speaking with a frequency of about 140 hertz before the procedure. I expect when things settle down your frequency will be about 210 hertz. In terms of singing, you?ll be a soprano.? Marta smiled. ?That will be perfect Doctor Gordon.? ?Unfortunately Melissa is only in the early stages of sexual maturation. His vocal folds will continue to thicken, and over time his voice will deepen again. We may have to repeat the procedure and add more steel rings from time to time.? ?Oh dear I was hoping this would be a permanent solution for Melissa.? ?If his testosterone production were shut down, his larynx would stabilize and his voice would remain pure. But short of that, his voice will keep deepening.? ?Yes Doctor, I understand. I?ll have to think about how best to deal with that issue. Testosterone certainly does trigger some unpleasant changes; deeper voice, erections, body hair, aggressive behavior ...? ?Yes Marta, those changes are all a part of growing up; part of a boy becoming a man.? As we left the doctor?s office I thought about what he had just said; about how I was a boy but was becoming a man. I wasn?t thrilled with the prospect. Did I really want to become a man? Does a boy have to become a man? Couldn?t a boy just keep pretending to be a girl? We walked about six blocks to the address of the corset shop. There were mannequins in the display windows wearing girdles, bras and corsets. We entered and a salesclerk offered to assist us. ?My daughter needs a corset. Not some silly frilly thing, but something long, strong and well boned. I want at least a three inch waistline reduction.? ?Let me take some measurements and then see what we have that will help your little girl.? She took my measurements and went to the stock room returning with three corsets of varying styles. I remained silent while Marta did the talking. ?These all look rather flimsy. Don?t you have anything more substantial?? ?We do carry one line of training corsets, but they are quite severe and not easy for a girl to wear. I can show you one if you like.? ?Yes please do. Re-shaping her body is my highest priority. Her comfort is not a concern.? The salesclerk returned with a very long and heavy garment. She held it up in front of me. It ran from just under my armpits to mid hip. It was made of a heavy cotton fabric almost like canvass. There were steel stays sewn in every inch or two. It fastened in front with a series of steel buttons that slid into slots. It laced in back. Marta carefully examined the corset checking its workmanship and construction. ?This should do nicely. Go lace her up.? Marta remained in the front of the store while the clerk, who was a female of middle age, led me to a dressing room. I was instructed to remove my clothing. I felt my face turn red knowing that the clerk would soon discover that this ?girl? had a penis in her panties. When I pulled down my panties she said nothing but I saw her smile. She proceeded to fasten the corset around my torso and began the long task of pulling out the laces, slowly compressing my body in the soon to be familiar confines of a severe corset. When she finished the clerk said ?Put your panties back on and we?ll go show your mother.? We returned to the shop with me wearing nothing but the corset and my pink panties. Marta made me model the corset for her inspection. The corset tightly compressed my waist but the cups sewn into the top of my corset were of course empty. Marta pressed a finger against the point of the left cup, indenting it about two inches until I could feel it press against my nipple. ?This corset will do for now. Obviously she will need breast forms. Oh, and she will have to start wearing stockings it seems. Pantyhose are rather impractical when you?re laced in a corset full time. Do you have another one in her size?? ?Yes Ma?am. There is one more just like this one.? ?We?ll take them both. She will wear this one. Fit her with some stockings and breast forms and then you may write it up.? Back in the dressing room the clerk unlaced my corset sufficiently for her to insert two foam rubber breast forms. When she re-laced me, the breast forms filled out the cups of the corset. There were wide straps over each shoulder which crossed in the back. These had the effect of pulling my shoulders back, and that seemed to emphasize my new faux breasts more. At the bottom of the corset were eight garter straps; four for each leg to hold up my new nylon stockings. She fed the garter straps under my panties, explaining that this would allow me to remove my panties to use the toilet without having to unfasten my stockings. As I finished putting my pants and blouse on over the corset I noticed that my penis was starting to get hard. This only happened a couple of other times, but I knew that it was a sign of my sexual maturation. After zipping and buttoning my trousers I looked down. There was a noticeable lump in my crotch. I just hoped Marta wouldn?t notice it. When I left the dressing room Marta was settling the bill. The final total was nearly a thousand dollars which startled me, though Marta seemed unconcerned. As we were leaving the store I thought I saw her looking down at my crotch, but she said nothing at the time. We stopped for lunch at a small caf?. I was extremely uncomfortable in my new corset and only ate a couple of bites of my sandwich. It felt like my stomach was so compressed that there was no room for food. I had difficulty breathing as the corset pressed in on my rib cage. My erection finally went away and by the time we got back to the apartment my pants were no longer bulging. Marta sat in the living room and lit a cigarette. ?Open a bottle of Bordeaux from the wine chest Melissa. I think after today?s activities we both deserve a drink.? I nodded and went to the galley kitchen. There was a small wine cooler which held twelve bottles of wine. I opened a bottle and put it on a small tray with two wine glasses. I placed the tray on the coffee table and as Marta had taught me, I poured out a small portion of the red wine for her to taste. She made a minor production of sniffing and twirling the glass before sipping and swishing wine in her mouth. She pronounced it drinkable and I filled her glass as well as one for me. I sat and took a sip, smiling and nodding my head to indicate that I liked the wine. I opened my purse and lit my first cigarette of the day. I really was starting to enjoy smoking and as Marta had said, it seemed to help me relax, though I suppose I was also starting to become addicted to the habit. I turned to Marta and smiled. ?How is your corset feeling Melissa?? I made a face and stuck out my tongue to suggest that it was very uncomfortable, though in fact I had been wearing it for over an hour and was starting to get used to the tight compression. Marta laughed. ?For centuries girls have been complaining that their corsets are too tight Melissa. Welcome to the club.? I couldn?t help but smile at her comment. Wearing a corset really was a very girly thing and I liked that aspect of it, in spite of the discomfort. ?Melissa, I couldn?t help but notice that your ? your male appendage was on public display today at the corset shop. I hope you realize how inappropriate that is, particularly when you're disguised as a girl.? I frowned and turned my head down trying to communicate my embarrassment at this unwanted display of my budding masculinity. ?We really must not have a repeat of such displays Melissa. What do you think it was that triggered your erection today?? I pointed to my new breasts and to my smaller waist, tapping on one of the steel stays of my corset. ?That?s interesting. So you find that being tightly laced into this most feminine of garments is sexually arousing for you?? I slowly nodded my head in the affirmative. ?I?m delighted that wearing a corset appeals to you in that way Melissa, but you must realize that to put your male anatomy on public display like that is totally unacceptable. I don?t care how pretty your clothes are or how much makeup and jewelry you wear; when people see that bulge in your pants or skirt you have clearly blown your disguise. You simply can?t keep on pretending to be a girl if you are going to be getting those disgusting erections all the time.? I shrugged my shoulders and bowed my head. I wanted to say something but was cognizant of Doctor Gordon?s order that I not speak for 48 hours. I went to the kitchen and found a pen and a pad of paper. Returning to the living room I wrote ?I?m very sorry Miss Schwartz. It just happened. I tried to make it go away, but ?? I handed her the note pad which she read. ?It?s that damn testosterone. First it ruins your voice. Now it?s taking control of your penis. I suppose the next thing is you'll start growing facial hair. Won?t that be lovely?? I took the pad and wrote ?What can I do Miss? It?s like the testosterone is ruining everything.? Marta reached out and gave me a hug and a kiss. ?Oh Melissa I know it?s not your fault. I?m not blaming you for that display at the corset shop today. I?m blaming your hormones.? I took the pad and wrote one word. I sat in silence for several minutes before I got up the courage to hand the pad back to Marta. The only thing on the pad was ?Castrato?? ?Yes darling. Castration would be the ultimate solution, but that?s not something to be taken lightly. If you are castrated it will mean that you won?t be able to function sexually as a male. There is a reason boys get erections. It?s so they can engage in sexual intercourse with girls; it?s so they can procreate. If I have you castrated you will never be able to have intercourse; never be a father. Makeup can be washed off. Corsets can be taken off. All of the feminine things we have done for you up until now are reversible. We could get rid of your pretty new clothes and send you back to Parkworth. You could become a boy again if you wanted. But castration is irreversible. Melissa, once your testicles are removed they won?t grow back. Castration is a once in a lifetime decision and not something to be taken lightly.? I started crying. I knew my mascara was running and my face must be a mess. I took a large gulp of wine and lit another cigarette. I took a deep breath. I picked up the pen and wrote ?I don?t want to be a father. I don?t want to have intercourse with girls. I want to be a girl.? Marta took a tissue from her purse and lovingly wiped my tears. ?Oh Melissa darling, are you sure? Are you certain this is what you want? Do you really want to be a girl not just for a day, but for the rest of your life?? I smiled. I started to laugh. I nodded my head vigorously. I tore off the old sheet of paper and wrote three letters, filling the entire sheet. ?Yes!? Nothing more was said about castration. Marta insisted I stay laced in my new corset until we got back to Virginia. When we arrived home Sunday afternoon I was finally allowed to unlace it and take a much needed bath. I soaked in the tub for nearly an hour, enjoying the freedom of not being tightly laced. Marta finally came into my bathroom and insisted I get out of the tub. It was the first time she had seen me naked. ?Stand still Melissa. Let me dry you off.? I stood while she toweled me. Marta stood facing me and grasped my penis, pulling it up and out as if to inspect it. I was embarrassed and unsure how to react to her examination of my privates. Finally she let go of my penis and led me back to my bedroom where she assisted me in putting on one of my corsets. She laced me very tight. Standing before the mirror I could see my transformation take place. The boy who was built rather straight up and down became the girl with a well defined waist and a nice sized bust. I put on a pair of nylon stockings, fumbling with the garters but eventually getting all eight fastened to my stocking tops. I slipped on a pair of panties and wore a pair of black pants and black loafers with a white blouse. I sat at my makeup table, put on my wig and did my makeup. Then I met Marta in the library for a glass of wine and a cigarette. Monday morning I spoke for the first time since having my voice re- tuned. I definitely had a much higher pitch and at least to my own ears I thought that I sounded like a girl when I spoke. Marta seemed pleased with my voice as well. My singing lessons resumed and I fell back into my home schooling routine. In the afternoon I started laying out the fabric for my skirt making project. The pattern came with directions so it was fairly straightforward; pin the paper patterns to the fabric, cut along the printed lines; sew the pieces together. The sewing was easy. Putting in the zipper and button was harder, but by Tuesday evening my skirt was finished and ready to try on. I took off my trousers and stepped into a skirt for the first time. I pulled it up, zipped and buttoned it. The skirt was hemmed to about three inches above my knees. I looked down at my exposed legs and admired how nice they looked in nylons. I went down to the library where Marta was working on lesson plans for my schooling. I twirled around modeling my new skirt for her. ?Brava Melissa. Your new skirt looks great, and I must say you do look lovely in a skirt.? ?Thanks Miss Schwartz. I?m really glad you like it.? ?Those shoes don?t work with a skirt, but with the right footwear you will look dazzling.? ?Miss you mentioned that maybe I should wear high heels with my skirt. Do you think we could go shoe shopping soon?? Marta looked at her watch. ?The stores are open for another three hours. Grab your purse and let?s go shopping.? I wound up getting four new pair of stiletto heels in black, brown, navy and red. I wore the black heels home, carrying the others in a shopping bag. I was pretty unsteady at first but soon got the hang of walking in heels. I felt noticeably taller. Four inch heels took me from five foot six to five foot ten. I felt so feminine; so grown up. In the ride back home Marta lit a cigarette and I followed suit. I was so happy. Everything just seemed so right to me. I resolved to wear nothing but skirts and heels from that day forward. That night as I slept in my still tightly laced corset I had a dream. I was climbing up a pole like we used to do in physical education class at Parkworth. My legs were tightly wrapped around the pole and it was pressing against my penis. The pressure felt nice. The more I climbed the nicer it felt. Then suddenly I felt a spasm in my penis. This woke me up. I looked down and some kind of white sticky discharge was dribbling from the tip of my penis. It scared me. I thought I was sick or had some horrid disease. I started to cry. Marta must have heard me as she came running into my bedroom. ?What?s the matter Melissa? Why are you crying?? Still sobbing I peeled back the sheets so show her the mess between my legs. She put her fingertip in the fluid and then held it to her nose and sniffed it. She raised her voice as if in anger and said, ?How did this happen Melissa?? ?I ? I was having this strange dream Miss Schwartz. I was climbing up this pole and it felt good and then there was like this spasm and I woke up and there was this sticky stuff all over my penis and bed sheets. What?s wrong with me Miss?? ?You just experienced your first nocturnal emission; your first wet dream. It?s a perfectly normal event for a boy your age. Your body is beginning to produce sperm. It is another unfortunate consequence of all that testosterone you are making. It seems we have even less time than I thought to address your problem.? ?You mean getting me castrated Miss?? ?You really only have two choices Melissa. We can do nothing in which case you will become increasingly masculine in appearance and attitude. Or, we can have you castrated and you can go on enjoying being a girl. I don?t see any other options Melissa. Only you can decide. Do you want to go back to being a boy again; go back to Parkworth Military Academy, or do you want to remain here as my daughter and be home schooled?? ?The decision is easy. I want to stay here with you Miss. I love you and I want to be your daughter; I want to be your daughter for the rest of my life. Please have them castrate me Miss. Please make this horrible testosterone go away. If I don?t have the operation I know it will ruin my life. Please Miss.? Marta crawled into my bed beside me. She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a hug. She kissed me deeply on the lips. I could taste her familiar lipstick once more. She dried my tears and we both fell asleep in each other?s arms. When I came downstairs the next morning Marta was sitting in the kitchen talking on the phone. I only heard one side of the conversation but it sounded like she was making an appointment. After breakfast she informed me that there would be no school today but that I had a doctor?s appointment. She drove us to Alexandria where I was introduced to Doctor Fine who is a urologist. Marta filled out some paperwork and then we were taken to an examination room. The doctor came in and told me to take off my skirt and panties. He gave my penis and testicles a careful examination. I remained seated on the exam table while the doctor sat at a desk and fumbled with my file folder. He turned to Marta. ?How long has she been dressing as a girl?? ?Only a few weeks.? ?The guidelines for SRS require a minimum of a year living as a girl before I can ethically operate on her.? ?I can?t wait that long. In another year she will have a beard and an Adam?s apple. She needs to be castrated now; not a year from now.? ?I could do a simple Orchiectomy now and follow up with the SRS in a year.? ?Am I correct that with SRS you would use part of her penis to create a fully functioning vagina and she would be able to experience orgasms?? ?Yes that is the goal in every SRS procedure.? I sat there trying to comprehend what they were talking about. But I felt it best to remain silent and just listen. Doctor Fine looked back at my folder. ?I see she is only 16. In Virginia she needs to be 18 to give her informed consent for a procedure like this.? ?Are their other states where it could be done now rather than in two years?? ?Yes in Maryland there are no requirements for informed consent for minors. As long as her parent or guardian gives consent the operation could be performed there.? ?Please arrange that for me Doctor Fine. I would like to have this over and done with in a matter of days, not years.? ?I have some open time on Friday. There is a hospital in Annapolis where I have privileges. I?ll schedule things and let you know the exact time to be there.? He turned to look at me. ?You can get dressed now Melissa. I?ll see you Friday.? On the drive home I asked Marta to explain what they would be doing to me. It was as I had thought. Orchiectomy; the surgical removal of my testicles. I would still have a penis but my scrotum would be empty. It wouldn?t make me a real girl, but I sure wouldn?t be a boy anymore. Friday morning I was prepped for surgery. An IV drip fed an anesthetic into my vein and I quickly lost consciousness. When I woke I was in a hospital bed. There were bandages covering my scrotum. A catheter tube took care of my urine. I was released and sent home the next day. I remained in bed for most of a week. Then we returned to Doctor Fine?s office where he removed the surgical dressing and examined me. There was a slight vertical scar where my balls used to be. Doctor Fine removed the catheter and checked me for incontinence. He pronounced the operation a success and released me. As I was getting dressed Marta turned to Doctor Fine. ?She will need a prescription for estrogen. It?s high time she started to develop her breasts.? ?Yes for sure. I?ll start her on a fairly high dose and we can taper off to a maintenance level in a few months.? ?Thanks Doctor Fine. That sounds like an excellent plan.? I knew that estrogen was a female hormone. I knew that in teenage girls estrogen was what triggered their breasts to grow. I smiled, knowing that this drug would take me one more step closer to becoming a female. ******* After three months on estrogen my breasts were budding nicely and I had to get smaller breast forms over them to fill out the cups of my corsets. The combination of corsetry and hormones was reshaping my body. I could now easily lace my corsets fully closed so both sides touched in back. With dieting and exercise my weight was down to 110 pounds. My waist measured 25 inches on the outside of my corsets. Marta ordered two new corsets of the same style as my old ones but smaller and capable of being laced down to 22 inches. I still occasionally thought about my balls, though when I rubbed my hand over my penis there were no sexual feelings associated with that. I stopped having erections and never had any more wet dreams. Marta introduced sex education into my home school curriculum. There were texts and videos showing people engaged in various sexual activities including oral and anal sex as well as lesbian and homosexual scenes. It occurred to me that had I been exposed to these things before my surgery I would surely have gotten one of those ugly erections. But now, I was able to remain calm and objective as I learned about the birds and the bees from my loving Miss. I particularly enjoyed the videos showing two girls making love to each other. The male homosexual films were not at all fun to watch. My whole personality seemed to be changing. I'm sure the changes were due to hormones; the absence of male hormones and the introduction of female hormones. I felt so much calmer; more accepting; more submissive. I no longer rebelled at tasks I disliked. I seemed more emotional; more prone to crying. These changes pleased me. To me the personality changes made me more of a girl and less and less of a boy. I continued to study voice and ballet, though I didn?t return to the School of Design for a second semester. Marta felt that my time would be better spent learning other disciplines and performing other tasks. Father had been overseas for almost six months when the man in the dark suit came knocking on our door. I answered and he identified himself as a colleague of my father. I got Marta and he asked us both to be seated. He told us the bad news; father had been captured and killed by some radical elements. There would be a ceremony to honor him, and some kind of government medal would be awarded posthumously. I cried when I heard the news though Marta seemed to take it well. Father and I had never been that close. I felt much more love for Marta now than I did for father. But still I cried. After the ceremony the lawyers worked on father?s estate. Marta was to receive half of the estate and a trust of which I was the beneficiary would receive the other half. Marta was named the trustee of my trust which would pass to my control on my thirtieth birthday. The lawyers arranged for Marta to become my legal guardian. At Marta?s request the lawyers also did the paperwork to legally change my name. The boy named Melvin Carter Wellington III ceased to exist in a legal sense. I became Melissa Carol Schwartz-Levy, gender female. After father?s death my relationship with Marta seemed to change. She became more distant. The hugs and kisses were less frequent. She was quick to criticize me for the slightest mistakes. A couple of times she became so upset with me that she put me over her lap and spanked me. It hurt and I cried, but at the same time I liked the intimacy of being held on her lap. She kept adding tasks to my workload. I was now doing all of our laundry, housecleaning and cooking. She even bought me maid?s uniforms to wear while doing housework. I was still severely corseted at all times and she eventually discarded all of my lower heeled shoes and boots in favor of stiletto heels of four or more inches in height. I didn?t really mind doing housework; it seemed fitting for a girl like me. After all Marta was the head of our household and my legal guardian. Common housework was not something my Superior should do; it is something I must do as I serve her. One evening after my chores were finished and we were smoking in the living room I asked Marta a question. "Miss Schwartz, my seventeenth birthday is coming up next week. I was wondering if maybe I could start taking driving lessons and get my own license." "I don't think that's a good idea at all Melissa. You are still a little girl. You're far too immature to handle the responsibility of operating a motor vehicle. You just stick to your maid's duties and let me do the driving." "But Miss I'm not a little girl anymore. I'll be seventeen. Most kids learn to drive when they turn sixteen." "Melissa we both know you are not like most kids. You are a very special girl and I want to keep you that way. You're not ready for the independence that would come with driving a car. If anything I've been much too lenient with you in the past. I plan on making a few changes which will add more structure and discipline to your life. I don't want you to grow up and do more adult things. Indeed I wish you were turning thirteen instead of seventeen." "Yes Miss, I guess I can wait a while longer before learning to drive." "That's a good girl. Come over here and sit next to me. I think you need a big hug." I smiled at her display of affection. After our hug I snuggled up next to her and put my head on her shoulder. She ran her fingers across my face and through my hair. She spanned her two hands around my neck almost like you would do if you were going to choke someone. "I think you need to start wearing a nice wide collar around your neck Melissa." "A collar Miss? You mean like a choker necklace?" "No I mean like a collar; a heavy metal collar that fits snuggly around your neck and locks in place." "What purpose would that serve Miss Schwartz?" "It would be decorative, like your earrings or other jewelry. But more importantly it would be symbolic. Collars like that are worn by girls who belong to someone else. It symbolizes that the girl is owned." "Does that mean that if I wear this collar you will own me Miss?" "Yes Melissa that is precisely why I am going to collar you. I will own you. I will be your Mistress, and you will be my property; my slave." "I know I'm a minor and you're my legal guardian. I just never thought of that meaning I was your slave." "Think about it Melissa. You live in my home. You work hard as a maid taking care of my home. I don't pay you a salary. Doesn't that make you my slave?" "Yes I guess it does Miss Schwartz. I just never thought of using slave as a word to describe our relationship before." The next day we took the commuter train into DC. We caught a cab at Union Station and went into a kind of seedy part of the District. I was wearing a skirt and blouse with heels like usual. We went into this store front. The display windows were empty and there were no signs to indicate what the business even was. Upon entering I was confronted with a large display of what I think is called bondage gear. There were all kinds of leather goods; harnesses, gags, hoods, etc. There were thigh high boots with extremely high heels. There were steel handcuffs and wrist cuffs and collars. Marta told the clerk she wanted to look at steel cuffs and collars. There were three or four different styles ranging from fairly delicate things that could pass as jewelry to very heavy industrial looking ones. "I like the heavy ones. See if you can fit one for the girl here." I stood passively while the man measured my neck with a cloth tape measure. He went in the back and returned carrying a collar. It was hinged in the back and held closed with a brass padlock in front. It definitely wouldn't be mistaken for jewelry. He closed the cold steel around my neck and snapped the padlock closed, handing Marta the keys. I felt a rush. It's hard to explain but I felt like I was destined to wear this collar; that I wanted others to know that Marta owned me. Marta ran her hands over the collar. It was about two inches wide and maybe a quarter of an inch thick. It was very heavy. There were D rings welded to both sides of the collar. Marta smiled. "How does your new slave collar feel Melissa?" "Um ... its ok I guess. It seems to fit fine; not to loose; not too tight." "I meant how do you feel about wearing my collar Melissa?" "I love it Miss Schwartz. It like reminds me of you. It was your idea to buy this for me. I want to wear if for you Miss." "That's a good girl." She turned to the clerk. "I want a set of wrist cuffs in the same style." The clerk took more measurements. Marta removed the bracelets I was wearing and I put them in my purse. The clerk returned and padlocked a steel cuff on each wrist. The cuffs had D rings welded to them just like my collar. I knew that the rings could be used to attach chains or other fasteners. Marta wandered around the shop looking at other merchandise. She picked up a leather gag and held it up in front of my face. "I'll take the trainer gag too. She wants to wear it home." I don't know what gave her the idea I wanted to wear a gag, but I wasn't going to contradict my Mistress. "Open wide Melissa." I opened my mouth and Marta pushed the hard rubber ball behind my front teeth. It pretty much filled my oral cavity. There were three sets of leather straps and buckles. One went out the sides of my mouth and around the back of my neck. It reminded me of the headgear I had to wear back when I had braces on my teeth. A second set ran up across the bridge of my nose, between my eyes and over the top of my head, connecting in back to the neck strap. The third strap ran under my chin, forcing my jaw to bite down on the ball. "How does you gag feel Melissa?" I grunted but speech was impossible as long as this horrid thing was strapped in my mouth. Marta smiled. She seemed pleased with the way she had bound me. Turning to the clerk she said "What do you recommend to prevent her from removing her gag?" "You could lock her wrist cuffs to a waist chain. Or we have some locking mittens that deny her the use of her fingers." "Let me see a waist chain." He came back with about a three foot length of heavy chain. He wrapped it snugly around my waist over my corset and blouse. He padlocked the chain in place. Then using two more padlocks he attached my cuffs at my waist to the opposite sides of the waist chain. I no longer had the use of my hands. "That will do just fine. I'm sure she wants to wear that home as well." I was frantic. How could we possibly go out in public with me chained and gagged like this? Marta settled up with the clerk and steered me toward the front door of the shop. I started shaking my head frantically and stood my ground. Marta went back to the clerk. "I'll need a leash. The girl seems reluctant to go out wearing her pretty new things." Soon a leather dog leash was clipped to a ring on my collar and Marta pulled me forward and out the front door. Thankfully a limo was waiting at the curb with the passenger door open. We ducked in the limo and I don't think anyone saw me except for the driver. Marta gave him our home address and we headed out of DC and back to Virginia. I remained bound and gagged. The gag was horribly uncomfortable. As I thought about it much of my new life involved discomfort. The corsets; the high heels, and now this bondage designed for slave girls. On the long drive home Marta seemed to be in good spirits. She tilted my head and kissed me on the forehead. She put her hand on the inside of my thigh and sort of caressed me there. I wanted to return her smile and show of affection but with my hands chained and my mouth gagged there wasn't much I could do except try to make a little purring noise. I was starting to drool from the gag. Saliva was running down my chin and dripping onto my blouse. I felt so helpless; so totally dependent on Marta who held the keys to my locks. I think that is what she wanted; for me to submit to her stronger will and become increasingly dependent on her for my survival. I thought about my role; my purpose in life. With my castration I knew I would never become a man; that option no longer existed. I wasn't really a girl yet though the doctor said that after living as a girl for a year they could operate and change my penis into a vagina. Did I really want that? I wasn't sexually attracted to men and couldn't imagine having a man on top of me stuffing his cock into my new vagina. Marta said that once I was collared she would own me and I would be her slave. Is that what I want? It would give my life a purpose. Serving and pleasing my owner would be my reason to exist. I love being with Marta. I love serving her. I even like cleaning the bathrooms and doing her laundry and ironing. How else can I serve Marta? What can I do to please her; to bring a smile to her lips like she got after I was locked in my cuffs, collar and gag? When she removes my gag I must ask her that question. The limo dropped us at our home and Marta held the leash, leading me up the sidewalk and inside. She stopped in the kitchen and I stood waiting. Thankfully she unlocked the waist chain so I had the use of my hands again. "You may remove your gag now Melissa. Just remember that if you speak inappropriately I'll use it again to silence you." I unbuckled the three straps and pulled the ball out of my mouth, flexing my jaws which had been forced open for the past two hours. "Thank you Miss Schwartz. Thank you for allowing me to remove my gag." "You're quite welcome girl." "What about the cuffs and collar Miss?" "They stay locked. You'll wear them 24/7 Melissa. They won't be coming off any time soon." "I understand. They're stainless steel so I can even shower wearing them. I actually like my new cuffs and collar Mistress. Like you said, they remind me that I'm your slave; that I'm here to serve you." "Good girl." "I was thinking on the ride home that maybe there are other ways I can serve you Miss Schwartz. Can you think of anything new that I should be doing to serve you?" "Yes there are new things Melissa. Up until now I have refrained from using you for sexual service because of your age. But now that you are almost seventeen, I think you are mature enough to be used sexually." "How would that work Mistress? You know I don't get erections anymore, and I won't get a vagina for another year. What can I do in the mean time?" "Girls have three holes that are used sexually; mouth, vagina, and anus. For the next year you only have two functioning holes; your mouth and your anus. Your mouth and your tongue can be used to pleasure other girls. Your mouth and anus can be used to please men." "But Mistress, I don't want to have sex with any men. I'm not at all attracted to that kind of stuff." "What you want and don't want is irrelevant Melissa. You're my slave now. You will do what I want. If I want you to have sex with a man, you will have sex with a man. If you refuse to obey me I will have you punished. You wear my collar now. You will do as I say or live to regret it. Do you understand?" I started to cry. She's right of course. If I'm her slave I have to obey her even if it means doing stuff I don't want to do. But that's life. People always have to do stuff they would rather not do. It was like that at Parkworth Military Academy. It's going to be like that here as well. "Yes Miss Schwartz, I understand. I'll obey you because I'm your slave, and because I don't want to be punished." "Good girl Melissa." "Mistress, would you ... could I ... would you ever want me to serve you with my mouth and tongue?" "Would you like that Melissa?" "I so want to please you Miss Schwartz. You've been so good to me letting me be home schooled and not having to go back to Parkworth and you know, helping me to become a girl and all. I would love to please you down there Mistress if you would allow me to do so." "Have you ever done that with another girl Melissa?" "No Mistress. I'm a virgin if you don't count the wet dream I had." "Well then it seems that we need to have a special sex education class tonight where I can help you hone your oral skills. Why don't you just get down on your knees and we can begin lesson one." ******** From that day forward I became Marta's lover. She sometimes still called me her sex slave, but I like to think of myself as her lesbian lover. Thankfully she never required me to have sex with any men or other women, even though I knew she had the right to do so. After my year of living as a girl was up I had the sexual reassignment surgery. As if by magic my penis was turned into a vagina. The operation was a success and the patient discovered the joys of having orgasms. Marta was my step mother, my legal guardian, my Mistress, my lover, my owner. My love for her grew boundless and I'll be forever thankful that through her efforts I was able to become ... the ambassador?s daughter.