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KARMA Jack always thought it was Karma, his fate, to meet Sarah, the youngest female lawyer ever to be made a barrister. They fell in love at first sight, courted for only three months before they were married. He just knew that with a woman like his, he would no longer need to do something that had occupied so much of his life since childhood. He thought of it as his dirty little secret and avoided anyone discovering it. As a pre-pubescent child, he used to dress up in his mother's clothes, not knowing why, but aware that he was doing something enjoyable, but most definitely wrong. In his teenage years he bought a few things of his own, and it was made easier later, when he moved to his own apartment. He always thought of it as a substitute for sex, he would masturbate even at the thought of dressing, so once married, he believed that he would no longer have need of that particular outlet. Imagine his guilt and shame when he realised that only in a very few short weeks, he found that those same old urges were returning. He couldn't imagine many people wanting to do such a thing, so it came as quite a shock when he finally decided to research his 'perversion' on line. The internet seemed full of men just like him, but the downside was that he knew, for the first time, that he would never be free from, to his mind, strange longings. He was an honest man and believed in the old virtues of loyalty and love. He felt that he had to tell his wife about his desires, knowing full well that it might mean the premature ending of their marriage. "You want to put my clothes on?" his uncomprehending wife asked him by way of response. "I thought that we both enjoyed a good and very satisfying sex life." "Not necessarily your clothes," he was so embarrassed and ashamed, "any female clothes, I told you that I don't understand why, myself." "I do think, Jack, that you could have told me this before we committed our lives together. I know you said that you didn't think you would want to carry on, but this is a very big secret to keep from someone that you say you love." She pulled away from him and sat down on one of their armchairs. "I have to give some thought to this." That was how it was left for ten days. Jack was walking on eggshells the whole time. Finally, Sarah sat down on their couch with him one Thursday evening, rather pointedly not actually touching him but rather facing towards him. He found himself holding his breath. "I've thought long and hard about your problem," she told him. "I've also had a word with my friend Janet. No, before you say anything, she's a nurse and won't say anything to anyone else. She confirmed what you said about not being able to stop, and I am still very upset that you didn't find out more about this, and told me before we were married, but we can't turn the clock back. Some time ago, your company asked if you wanted to work from home. You were uncertain, so didn't do anything about it. I now want you to tell them you have decided to do just that. Janet has told me that there are certain advantages to having a cross- dresser as a husband, the main one is that I will no longer have to do any housework. Have you ever thought about wearing a maid's uniform?" He nodded yes, as if there wasn't another man like him who hadn't. "We are going to get you some uniforms, Janet's told me where to take you to get you fitted, so as soon as you can stay at home during the week, I want you to be my maid. Before you get too excited, this won't come without a cost to you. I'm not a lesbian, so until I can forgive you, we will not have sex. We are fortunate that this house was built at a time when domestic servants were quite common, so the attic top floor has a toilet and bathroom, two bedrooms for staff, and a separate staircase to the kitchen. You will move into one of the spare bedrooms on the top floor, I will continue to sleep in the master bedroom and that will be out of bounds to you, unless I ask you to go in for cleaning or some other reason. You said that you had a few feminine clothes already, you will put those in the closet in your new bedroom and we will add to them. The new ones will be mainly uniforms and I will select the designs that Janet has told me about that are not necessarily comfortable, but they will present you in a very subservient light. Don't ask me how long we will have this arrangement, I don't know, but it means that I will get some benefit at the same time as you will be punished. Oh yes, you may think the uniforms will be fun, but not the way you are going to be treated. I will post a list of rules in the kitchen, stick to them, or I will divorce you, giving your 'perversion' as the reason. I'm sure our friends and family would be most interested." With his fate sealed for the immediate future, he was able to arrange his working from home straight away. He was given a laptop and all the essential things for him to start home working from the following Monday. On Saturday they drove to a shop where they not only sold everything a cross-dresser could want, they also did complete makeovers. Sarah took the contents of his pockets, mainly loose change, then went in with him. She spoke to the woman who owned the business, explaining what she wanted, and leaving him there for the rest of the day. They took him to a private room and had him strip, that was the last he saw of those clothes. First they dealt with his appearance. He had little facial hair, but what he did have was lasered off, that on his body was depilated with a cream that had to be washed off in the shower they provided. His blonde hair was already not short, but extensions were added that cascaded down his back almost to his waist. His eyebrows were plucked almost out of existence, additional eyelashes glued on both his top and bottom lids, then a semi-permanent make up, blusher, eye shadow, eye liner and lipstick painted onto his face. "All you have to do for the next month is to apply a little gloss to your lips to make them nice and shiny," he was told. His nails were tidy, but they were roughened and false ones attached, so long that they extended a good three quarters of an inch beyond his fingers. Both they and his toenails were painted the same bright red as his lipstick. Then, before they started to dress him they fitted him with a chastity device and a butt plug. The two were electronically connected and pulled together with a cord running through a ratchet. "The butt plug has the batteries in it that must be recharged every night, so you will sleep without it in. You will see that there is a little glowing light in the end that will be outside your hole. It will go out if not charged, then your Mistress will have to bring you back here for it to be reset. If that happens we will punish you on the whipping horse, and if you think anything else is painful, I can assure that it's not compared with what we will do. Your Mistress will be given a remote control. If she wants you in attendance, she will press the button, and you will feel a tingling. The longer it goes on the stronger it will automatically get, until it is very painful, so you are well advised to drop anything you are doing and go to see what she wants. It won't stop until you are within ten feet of her, then it turns off automatically. She can also change the setting to punish you for anything that doesn't please her." When the string to the butt plug from the chastity tube was tightened, it pulled his penis back between his legs, pushing his balls up into his body, making him look quite flat. Once that was fitted, he had gel filled falsies glued to his chest, large at 'D' cup, but not out of place on him, and they were supported by a corset with half cups. This was tightened on him until he could hardly breathe. He was given a plain, right angled hook to screw into the wall of his bedroom, to hook the laces onto, then pull away to tighten them himself in the future. He was warned that if he didn't get it as tight as it was then, he wouldn't be able to get his dresses on. He was to return every two weeks to have his hair and face redone and also to be refitted with corsets and dresses. He was given a bright red g-string to cover the chastity, that did nothing to cover his little glowing light, let alone his buttocks. His uniform dress was next, if that was the right term for such a miniscule garment. It was low cut, showing the cleavage where the little fat he had on his chest was pushed up and together by the corset, and the skirt stood out at almost right angles by a mass of silk and net petticoats, so short that his g-string showed at the slightest of his movements. Up until then, with the exception of the g-string, all his clothing had been white, but the dress was black with white lace, white half apron and a little cap with black ribbons that hung down his back. He was told that he would have uniforms in seven different colours eventually, but while his waist was being reduced, there would be just one black and one yellow. Very sheer black stockings were rolled up his legs, they suggested that he put these on before finally tightening his corset, as it would be difficult to bend, after that was done. The shortness of his dress was then emphasised by these, as he had an area of thigh, bare except for the suspenders, showing between his stocking tops and the petticoats. The last things to be fitted were his shoes. These were open toed, to show off his polished nails, but with five inch heels, he had the greatest difficulty even standing in them, he couldn't imagine actually walking. To make matters worse, they locked on, and he was told that he had to give his Mistress the keys as she went to work in the mornings, and she would give them back to him in time to remove them to sleep. The ones on then were black, but he was told that he would have matching ones for each of his dressed in due course. He was placed in front of a full length mirror then, so for the first time he was able to see himself. If he hadn't been quite so uncomfortable in the corset and shoes, he thought he would have exploded in his panties. He was so much more incredible than he had ever imagined, but wasn't given much time to enjoy the view. He had to totter around, until he was able to take short steps, one foot in front of the other, realising that was the cause of the sway in the backside of women he'd noticed walking in very high heels. The rest of the day was spent learning how to walk, talk, curtsey, sit and stand like a woman, then the etiquette of being a maid. In future, he was only to answer to the name of 'Gillian', as his wife thought that more appropriate. He had to practice just being helpful, without being noticed and rarely heard. He wasn't allowed to talk, except in answer to a direct question, then to answer and curtsey at the same time. To acknowledge an order or instruction, he just had to curtsey. While his Mistress and/or her guests were eating, he had to stand in the background, ready to deal with any requirement, top up drinks, but never to speak. He learned that he was to serve Mistress breakfast in bed every weekday at seven forty five, and weekends at nine o'clock, unless otherwise told. Dinner would be served at seven in the evening, unless told otherwise. He would have a menu board in the kitchen, where he would post the meals he had planned at least seven days in advance, and there would be a space alongside for his Mistress to put comments, especially if she was to have guests, then she would indicate the number. He was only to use the rear entrance to the house, and likewise the rear staircase, unless he was cleaning either of them. Sarah had obviously left many of the instructions, including that his work computer would be in the other attic room, so that he had no need to be seen in the main part of the house, unless he was cleaning or serving. He was told that a copy of all these instructions would be posted in the kitchen for him to refer to. By six o'clock he was exhausted, all his new acquisitions were parcelled up and they and he, were placed in a cab to go home. He was advised that as it was already a little late, he was to serve his Mistress dinner at seven thirty, but a little latitude would be allowed this first time. The first awful thing he had to get over, was the cab driver laughing at him. He realised that he had no money for the cab, but the man told him that it was all paid for in advance. "I don't suppose your missus trusts you with any money, you might go spending it on more make up or something." He laughed even more. Gillian sat in the cab, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow him. Actually the cabbie didn't turn out that bad as a person. When they arrived home, he helped Gillian carry all his things up the service stairs all the way to his new bedroom, and he didn't seem to have any ulterior motive. He was sad that he didn't have anything he could give the man in the way of a tip for saving him at least one trip up the stairs in his precarious heels. He looked around his new bedroom. Sarah had been busy. He knew already that it was painted pink, it had been a young child's bedroom before they bought the house from the previous owners, but now it had been furnished in the most feminine manner imaginable. The single bed had a canopy in pink net, the carpet, two wardrobes, the chest of drawers and dressing table were all pastel pink or white. An antique nursing chair, that Gillian recognised as Sarah's, had been recovered with a pink seat and had a large china doll sat on it. A lilac coloured teddy bear was tucked under the quilt. The bathroom had similarly been redecorated in feminine style. If coercion hadn't been behind all this, he would have loved it. If only Sarah could get over this, perhaps he would be allowed to do what he really wanted, just to dress occasionally, but he realised that either she didn't understand that was all he wanted, or she was deliberately punishing him. He knew really that the latter was the case, but he worried about how long it would go on. Leaving most of the unpacking until later, he made his way down to the kitchen, and got on with what he would have done anyway, preparing dinner. He was no stranger to the kitchen, in fact he probably cooked three times the number of meals that Sarah did, so he already knew that he had some pat( to serve with a little salad as a garnish and some Melba toast, a pork chop with vegetable rice and a sweet chilli sauce, then a fruit salad to finish. He realised that he would be eating later, so didn't grill his chop until it was time. He laid the table for one in the dining room, set out the starter and toast, then knocked on the sitting room door. When told to enter, he curtseyed, then waited to be asked what he wanted. "Diner is served, Mistress." Another curtsey. Sarah didn't acknowledge him at all, just got up and walked to her place in the dining room, nodding as he silently offered her wine. He stood back, waiting for her to finish eating, wondering how she could possibly not be taken aback by his changed appearance. What he didn't know was that the shop had e-mailed her pictures of his makeover. When she had finished that course, he took the plates back to the kitchen, took the main course out from the warmed compartment where it had been placed when ready, and served it to his Mistress with another curtsey. He stood back again, this time barely in her line of vision and the only time he moved was to top up her wine glass when it was almost empty. A repeat of the operation followed with the dessert, then Sarah spoke. "I will have a brandy in the sitting room, make it a large one. I will then have words with you Gillian." There was not the slightest hint of a smile. Having given her the drink, he stood in front of her, not moving or speaking. She kept him standing like that for fully five minutes before she spoke again. "I am pleasantly surprised how you've turned out, Gillian. You are certainly unrecognisable like that, so I don't intend to cut myself off from contact with friends, whether you know them or not. I intend, for your sake, to explain that you are away for your job for several months, but that to keep me company and as you frequently looked after the house, you suggested that I employ your cousin, Gillian, as a maid. I will explain that your cousin bears a family resemblance, if asked, but that she has been formally trained and prefers to keep house on a strictly professional basis. That will explain you not being overly friendly with the guests. The only person that I fear will not accept that story, is your supposed best friend, indeed your Best Man, Robert, he knows all your family and would recognise a lie. If essential, I will have to admit who you are, but I give you my word that will only happen as a last resort. If he really is a good friend, then he will understand, but I want to know from you whether I should tell him the truth about why you are taking this role, or would you prefer to say that I caught you in a compromising situation with a woman? That story I can appreciate, would save a bit of face for you, even make you appear more 'macho'. Which do you prefer?" "I would be very embarrassed, Mistress, but I always believe in telling the truth, unless it hurts someone else." He curtseyed. "Very well, Gillian, now after you have cleaned the kitchen, you will prepare a menu for the coming week, as you have been told. Remember to update it at least once a day, so that I can always see it for seven days ahead. You will have seen that there is a notice board in both the kitchen and your bedroom, I expect you to make use of them, but I will only ever see the kitchen one, so anything you need me to know should be placed there. I expect you to set your alarm no later that five thirty through the week, and seven at weekends, you will normally be released from work at ten or earlier in the evenings. I realise that you will have your work to deal with, but I expect that my needs will always take priority. If you lose, or can't do your job, its loss is no great matter, I earn quite sufficient for this household's needs. As you gather, I expect you to do this for at least several months, but even afterwards, assuming that we go back to some resemblance of our previous normality, I still would quite like you to be a househusband. So your outside employment would still be unimportant, but I will discuss that with you if and when you return to being almost my equal. Now, run along girl, you have enough to do this evening, and I will see you with my breakfast tomorrow morning, so here are the keys to your shoes, and don't forget to put your butt plug on charge." As he left he took the keys, curtseyed again, but noted that she still showed no sign of any humour, that he would have expected. One thing that brought some relief; he could sit to write the week's menu, taking the weight off his tortured feet. He didn't dare take his heels off before he got to his room for the night. The next morning he served her breakfast at nine prompt, wearing his yellow uniform and shoes. As she first saw him, he thought he noticed a small smile from her and he smiled back. It appeared she had forgotten her role for a minute, because immediately her expression was replaced by a scowl. He was irked that she couldn't even extend a little pleasantness to him, after all, he was doing his best to please her, proving his love, and trying to make amends. After she had finished eating, he returned with her tray to the kitchen, where he had just loaded the things into the dishwasher, when he felt a tingling in his groin. At first he didn't recognise what it was, but as it became more powerful, he realised that she wanted him for some reason. At first he assumed that she had come downstairs, and looked in the dayroom for her. As the tingling grew more painful, he started to get more desperate and, in spite of his heels, he started to run, first to the sitting room, then up the stairs. By the time he reached the bedroom, he thought he was going to pass out from the burning jabbing pain in his balls, as he flung the door open and fell inside, the pain suddenly stopped. She was still in bed. He lay on the floor, gasping for the breath he could hardly take with the constriction of the corset and the throbbing, aching pain in his groin, ten times worse than any blue balls he had ever had. He looked up at his wife. "You were too slow, for that I'm going to punish you," she said, and he watched as she pressed a remote in her hand. He screamed and writhed on the floor, he knew the word agony was something he hadn't experienced before. He lay still, unconscious. As he woke, the pain in his groin encompassing his whole body, he was only dimly aware of her speaking too him. "Next time be quicker." He was shaking all over as he slowly and painfully got to his feet. "If you don't curtsey, you will get the same again." He couldn't believe she could be so cruel. Perhaps she didn't realise the power of that remote? He curtseyed. "That's better," she remarked. "They said that you wouldn't be able to stand having this setting ramped up to the maximum, but obviously you can, so I was right. I called you to get me my lingerie out for me to wear, do so immediately, blue today I think." He stumbled his way over to her chest of drawers where she kept her underclothes but in the first drawer found only panties. "No," she told him, "since I have more space now, you will find bra and panty sets where you used to keep your socks. My stockings and pantyhose are where your pants used to be, and your wardrobe now houses my work suits, skirts and blouses, my casual clothes and dresses are where they always were. You're probably wondering what happened to all your clothes? Well they're almost certainly being worn by several homeless people right now, I sent them down to the church hall to be given away." He couldn't stop shaking as he selected a blue undie set and took it over to her. She got out of the bed and shed her night gown. "As you took so long I ran my bath, but I don't expect to have to do that again. You know that I shower during the week, and bathe on weekday mornings. Now come with me, you can wash me. I can see that you're already shaking with excitement at the thought of my naked body, but you must learn to control yourself." He was still shaking, but her body was the last thing on his mind. He sponged her down, first while she sat in the bathtub, then later, the rest of her body when she stood. She deliberately made him randy and succeeded, in spite of the lingering pain he still felt. She did it by having him shave her pussy area, something he'd never known her do before, but she was well aware of the effect it would have on him. When she was done he helped her step out, wrapped a towel round her and proceeded to dry her with another. After a dusting of talc, he helped her into her bra and panties, then a dress which she selected. In her slippers she made her way downstairs. "Before you clean my bathroom, go out and collect the Sunday paper for me to read." She settled in the sitting room, taking the newspaper from him as he curtseyed for the umpteenth time. Halfway through the morning he felt the vibration in his groin. This time he knew where she was but ran as fast as his stilt-like heels would allow him. "Coffee time, girl," was all she said. He returned to the kitchen, made her coffee and served it. Back in the kitchen the vibration started again. This time he turned and rushed so fast his ankle twisted and he fell. Picking himself up, he felt the pain building again, but this time it switched off as he limped into her presence. "You forgot the biscuits." Wearily he turned to get them when he again was hit by the overwhelming pain. The only thing to be said this time was that he was so weakened that he passed out almost immediately. When he came to he saw her standing over him. "Get up you stupid sissy!" She yelled at him, for the third time but the first that he heard, and kicked him for the fourth time, but the first blow that he felt. Fortunately she was only wearing slippers but the blows still left his nose bleeding and bruises on his face and upper arms. "Curtsey when you leave my presence, don't forget." He made a sort of curtsey, half sat up, and crawled away from her, returning eventually with the biscuits, and curtseying. "Clear up that blood girl." She had no compassion at all. He realised that the smile he had glimpsed on her face first thing, was nothing to do with him. The rest of the day passed off without dramatic incident, but she made it absolutely clear that any feelings she may have had for him were certainly not there now. He wondered if they would ever return, indeed, would she ever think of him as a man again? It was quite a relief to see her off to work the following day. He spent some time doing his own work, and actually found that he could get through it quicker at home than he could in the office. In order not to appear to be too efficient, he took breaks in his inputs, so that although they only took him about five hours, he actually did his normal eight hours on the books. The rest of the time he was able to devote to cleaning the house and preparing the evening meal, so by the time Sarah arrived home in the evening, he was all set up. The first thing she did was ordered a glass of white wine and some nibbles. Those he provided, but while he was in the kitchen she walked in. At first he thought she might be coming to apologise for the torture she had inflicted the day before, after all his right eye was still swollen and bruised where she had kicked him. That was not the case. She simply wrote something on the menu board and walked out again. When he looked, it was to note that there would be two for dinner both Wednesday and Saturday evenings. He served her dinner without further incident, but of course, he couldn't say anything to her and she found no reason to speak to him. On Wednesday he was full of dread as to who might be invited, as she had no compunction in keeping it a secret from him, in fact he felt that she was deliberately taking pleasure in his discomfort. This was fully justified when he answered the door to her dinner guest. It was none other than his lifelong friend, Robert. "Good evening Sir." He curtseyed and showed the visitor into the sitting room where his wife was waiting. Upon instructions he made them each a gin and tonic, and took them in on the silver tray he used to serve drinks to Sarah. "My goodness, you've got a bit of all right there, Sarah," leered Robert as he took his drink, running his hand up the back of Gillian's leg and ending up on the inside of his thigh. Gillian jumped and yelped. "Yes I know so Robert," Sarah explained, "I gave her some quite modest uniforms but she has altered them to make them quite sexy." After that things seemed to Gillian to settle down, the question of Jack's absence didn't crop up as far as he could tell, and it ended with him being sent to bed, while Sarah and Robert finished their nightcaps of Brandy. Gillian actually opened his windows to see when Robert left. The attic windows were actually like French windows opening out onto a small balcony on the roof above the front door. It was a way that the off duty staff could get a little fresh air in the summer, without going down to the house gardens that the family used. Unfortunately, the balcony was so small, that although it gave a view of the surrounding area, the extending roof below, meant that there was no view to the street below. While he was there he noticed that the railing round the edge of the balcony was badly corroded, so bad in fact, that one bar broke away in his hand as he leaned against it, and it was a long way down to the footpath leading to the door below. Suspicious as he was Gillian found no evidence of anything untoward in Sarah's bed the next day, so decided that it was either a genuine sense of hospitality on Sarah's part (unlikely), finding out if Robert would recognise Gillian (possible), or a way to make Gillian nervous (most likely). The date for Saturday was just as much as an anti-climax, being a woman from where Sarah worked. Occasionally Sarah announced that she wouldn't be in for dinner on particular nights, and on those occasions he was told not to wait up for her. The days proceeded in much the same way. On the Saturday after, however, he had his first return appointment at the makeover shop. This time the process of redoing his face was more complicated and that alone took some two hours. Layers of colour were painted on, then some sort of heat applied, then the same again, three times altogether, including one time when an instrument that buzzed, vibrated and tickled as it was passed over his skin. When he asked about it, he was simply told that it was something his wife had ordered. Similarly, he was given an injection in each buttock, but they wouldn't tell him what it was about. They just said it was a surprise from his wife. What he didn't enjoy was when his corset was changed for one that was smaller in the waist. He wasn't fat to start with, a thirty inch waist on a man of only five feet six inches to start with isn't bad. He had measured his waist to discover that the first corset had taken him down six inches to twenty four inches, and now it was to get smaller. He certainly wasn't eating very much, he couldn't, the way his stomach was compressed, but this was painful all over again. His uniforms were changed to fit his new measurement. The next fortnight continued in the same pattern as the previous. Sarah invited several people, mainly couples, to dinner, but no one seemed to have any idea that the new maid was anything to do with Jack. At the end of the third week, she called him with the vibrations, but he failed to have noticed that she had gone out into their garden at the back of the house. She eventually had to find him, passed out in the front hall. The kicks he received that time were with her walking boots, she had put them on to do a little gardening. Although neither of them realised it at the time, even though he suffered considerable pain afterwards, she had broken his collar bone and two ribs. The next visit to the sex shop was also a repeat of most of the previous visit. More time was spent on his face, and he got four more injections, two, into his groin, were very painful. This time though, as well as changing his corset and uniform, they also changed his chastity device. He was disappointed as he had just begun to think that it was a little less uncomfortable, although he didn't seem to be getting any attempts at erections lately. "You've got used to this one," the woman told him, "you have to have a smaller one now." From what he could see, it was certainly true, the replacement was only a fraction of the size of the original, when it was pulled back, there was nothing he could see at all of his parts when he looked from above. His butt plug was also replaced by a bigger one. "Be careful," the woman warned, "this has got even more power in it than the previous one, we had to order it specially for your wife." He couldn't believe that already having the power to send him unconscious, she would want to increase it. 'To what end?' he thought, 'she can't hurt me any more than she can already.' This time was also different in that he was sent home with all his different pastel coloured uniforms, having been told that he would now have to tighten his corset to get an eighteen inch waist, which was as his wife had ordered. He was now told that he had to wear a specific, pastel colour for each day of the week. Monday through to Sunday, the order was to be, pink, mauve, blue, green, yellow, black and white for Sundays. He had arrived in his black uniform, and it was that one, after they had altered it that he went home in. He had long realised the significance of the bright red g-strings. If his petticoats lifted even in the slightest at the front, there was a flash of colour, which drew attention to it. If he tried to remedy that by bending a little forward, then the whole of his buttocks were exposed. He couldn't win. All this time he had managed to keep up with his work quite well, but the long hours he was having to put in, sometimes doing his office work past midnight, were taking its toll. He was getting more and more exhausted. Sarah was largely disinterested but under the impression that he had left his job, she didn't believe there was any way he could do everything he was doing in the time. When she had asked him about it he had deliberately been noncommittal, he didn't see any reason to tell her that he could handle the housework, etc., as well as a full time job. He believed that she would only find other things for him to do. It was difficult but he managed. A week after his final uniform fitting, on the Saturday night, he was expecting Sarah to have a guest for dinner. It turned out to be Robert again. Gillian opened the door for him in the usual way. "Hi Jack!" he exclaimed as he entered. "Tonight's the night, oh, sorry it's Jill, Jack or Jill, or is it Gillian? Well it's certainly not Jack is it?" He appeared drunk, but waltzed into the sitting room and Sarah greeted him with a kiss on the lips. "No, Bob," she said, "there's no Jack any more." They both laughed. He decided that for once, being a maid, and no part of conversations was better, he didn't want to know what they were talking about. He curtseyed and left to get their drinks. When he returned he was shocked to see his wife and best friend, eating each other's faces on the couch. "Don't look surprised, girl," his wife said with a laugh. "Bob and I have been dating since our wedding day. While you were entertaining the guests, Bob was showing me a good time up in his hotel room. We only had the problem of what to do about you, but Bob had the answer. He suggested that I just leave some nice sexy feminine undies laying around and he was pretty certain you would want them. Of course, you being so honest, you did more than I could have hoped for. You confessed all! Bob's had a pretty good idea of your proclivities for years." "You never did do a very good job of cleaning off all your make up Jack." Robert interrupted. "I put a couple of things of my sister's your way, and sure enough I knew your secret. When I told Sarah, after I'd had her, of course, she was over the moon, and now you're well and truly fucked." Gillian looked blankly at him. "I should say you might be fucked in the future, but you'll never be doing the fucking yourself." Robert collapsed laughing. "Those shots you've been getting," it was Sarah's turn to cut in, "they have completely emasculated you. The only reason to keep that chastity thing on you is so that I can still electrocute your balls, or what's left of them, and the reason for the bigger plug, is so that I can give you more shocks not stronger, and now they've fixed it by tuning them so that you don't quite pass out. You stay conscious to enjoy the full force of them. See?" At that she pressed the remote and he fell writhing and screaming on the floor, but indeed stayed awake to the full pain and horror. Both the lovers thought it extremely funny. "Go and sort out our dinner Gillian," she ordered him. He half crawled, half limped off to the kitchen, placed the starter on the table and reported that it was ready. During the course of the meal they outlined his future. Although he had to go home that night, the following Monday Robert was going to move in and a lot of his work was done from home. During the times that neither of them were in the house, Gillian was to be locked in the servants' quarters upstairs. He would still have plenty of time to do the chores, the cooking and serve the meals. He would also 'look after' Robert when, either it was that time of month, or she didn't feel like it, or when he particularly wanted oral sex, which she didn't do. Robert announced that although he would always prefer Sarah, Gillian's mouth would make an adequate substitute and they were both sure he would come to enjoy pleasuring Robert, the 'Master' as he was to become known. After the meal, Gillian was told he could go to bed, as they would not require his services any more that night. He cleaned up the kitchen, turned on the dishwasher, then headed up the stairs. As he passed the level of his wife's bedroom, although it was through a wall, he could make out her screams of passion. He felt that it was the end of the world. Instead of going to his bedroom, he turned on his work laptop and wrote a summary of what he had gone through. He told them about his cross- dressing, his confession to his wife. He explained what she had arranged, both with and without his knowledge or consent, her affair admitted tonight, with his best friend, the announcement of his emasculation, the electric shocks, their plans for his future, and finally him hearing them in bed that night. Everything that he could think of, he wrote down. He told them that he was very sorry, he enjoyed working for them, but unfortunately he wouldn't be able to continue, as he was going to kill himself. He pressed 'send'. With that, he went to his bedroom, opened the window, and bent back another bar round the balcony. He wanted the maximum impact, he dreaded surviving as a vegetable, so he walked back into the room and ran to the balcony and jumped. * * * * * The doctors examined the next person to arrive in Casualty that night. It had been busy with a crash on the motorway, and two call outs to the old peoples' home down the road. "Nothing we can do with this one, agreed?" she said. "No. Not any point in continuing with the resusc.. They did try hard on the way in the ambulance," her colleague agreed. "Suicide, was it?" "I think so, but strange circumstances." They drew the blanket up and over the inert body on the trolley, indicating it should go off with the notes to the morgue. There was no time to reflect, another trolley was being rushed into the room. Meanwhile two policemen were waiting to interview another casualty being treated by the medics. One had in his hand a copy of an e-mail sent to a company some way away, but it had been sent in error to one of their staff who had contacted the police. A distraught woman arrived, saying that something had happened outside her house and she had only just found out about it as she had been in bed asleep. Only the blue flashing lights afterwards had woken her. "Sarah Wilson?" one of the detectives asked. "Yes." "Sarah Wilson, I am arresting you for assault and unlawful imprisonment, you do not have to say anything but anything you do say may be used against you in a court...." "Yes, yes, I know all that I'm a barrister." She had interrupted him. "Then you know that I have to do things correctly." He continued to the end of the formal caution. "Just tell me what has happened." He was about the sixth person she had asked. "You are married to Jack Wilson?" "Yes, has something happened to him?" "What is your relationship to Robert Knowle?" "None of your damn business. Now tell me, what has happened?" "It seems that your husband was determined to commit suicide by jumping out of a third story window tonight. Do you know what would have caused him to be so desperate?" "No, of course not, perhaps his work was getting him down." "I have here a copy of an e-mail he sent just before he jumped, does the story look familiar to you?" He showed her the paper in his hand and she scanned it quickly. "Oh, my God. It's not true, the balance of his mind was obviously disturbed. He would never have said those things if it wasn't." She was worrying about her career going down the drain if these allegations could be proved. She thought quickly, they only had this rather hysterical message, yes, that was it. "He must have been hysterical, he hasn't been himself, but I didn't think he would commit suicide." "I didn't actually say that, madam." The detective was smiling. "I actually said that he was determined, but there was a strange coincidence. It seems that another gentleman was just leaving your property at the same time as your husband jumped, and he, shall we say, cushioned his fall. Unfortunately, the other gentleman was killed by the impact, your husband has survived with a broken ankle, bruises and a little concussion. I am told that he has other injuries," he consulted some notes, "broken ribs, eye socket and collar bone, but these are all injuries suffered some days ago. I understand that he has asked that you not be allowed to see him, but that he has a solicitor booked for eight o'clock this morning. In the meantime, you will accompany me to the City Police Station, where I will formally interview you." Many things happened in Jack's life after that night. First of all, he had make up almost tattooed onto his face, that and the broken ankle made the perfect excuse to wear skirts, not trousers. He had two doctors' opinions as to his future as a man. The strong hormones he had been treated with meant that he would never have the same sex life as a man, that he had before. Eventually he took his most sensible option and had full reassignment surgery. He divorced his wife and won the bulk of her investments, bank accounts and her significant portfolio of properties, of which he had no previous knowledge, he also won substantial damages from the sex shop, mainly paid for by their insurers, but well over a million pounds. As a small thanks to his company boss who alerted the police, he managed to more or less keep up with his work until they could find a replacement. The first thing that he did when he got back home was to get a builder in to put stronger railings round the top floor balcony. Robert's estranged wife tried to claim damages from him, for killing Robert, but the case was dropped once the full story was heard. Sarah was imprisoned for four years, she was sentenced to seven, but got out with good behaviour. Jack changed her name officially to Gillian and never did get her make up removed, although it faded quite a bit. She didn't marry again, but spent several years travelling and ended up with a long term partner, another woman, she could never bring herself to settle with a man, although, having the equipment, she did try a few. Years later she saw Sarah again, from a distance. Her ex-wife was working for an estate agent, selling houses. A bit of a come down for a high flying barrister, but then none of us can escape Karma.