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DOMESTIC VIOLENCE Andrew and Tanya Maison were an ordinary couple. They had been married for two years, he had a small business with a home office, selling outdoor equipment that he designed himself and contracted out the production, she was a housewife who felt that she ought to have a career of her own, and resented being 'just' a housewife. She was a naturally bossy sort of person, he naturally easy going. At twenty four years old she felt that they should have been making more of a mark in their lives. He was happy that he was earning a reasonable living doing something that he enjoyed. As you will understand, just an ordinary couple with ordinary problems. Realising that his wife wanted more involvement in the business world, he suggested that she dealt with his latest innovation, a small stove that would remain efficient even in the harshest of weather conditions. He suggested that one or two of the components could be fitted to domestic gas appliances, making them safer to use in draughty conditions, high winds blowing down flues, for example. She approached a major manufacturer and they bought a production license, with a large initial down payment and royalties to follow. These were further enhanced by a change in regulations, making it mandatory to have the items fitted to all new appliances. "Look what I've done while you've been playing at happy camper, I've trebled our income this year and for years to come," she boasted to him, forgetting that it was his invention and his idea of how it could be used. "Yes dear," he agreed, "you've made such a difference, you're a very skilful negotiator." "It ought to be me running the business, you should be the housewife," she said in a sort of half joking manner, but it started her thinking. There was no reason why she shouldn't take over the business, Andrew was too soft anyway and didn't drive nearly the hard bargains that she thought he should. "I need to deal with so much correspondence now," she told him, "especially as my idea seems to be taking off in so many different countries, I need a secretary just to deal with all the licensing enquiries." "I'm sure we can manage that between us, dear," he told her. He didn't want to start employing people with all the worries that entailed, when he felt they could handle this windfall themselves. He ignored the comment that it was her idea. She got to thinking though and had an inspiration. That night in bed she lay the foundations of her plan by pretending that she hadn't climaxed as she usually did, and tried to make out that it was his fault. The next morning she sorted out some blood pressure tablets that her father used to take when he was alive, and they had forgotten to get rid of. She put six of them in his breakfast coffee, remembering that her Mother had told her that it meant that her Father couldn't get erections after he had taken them. She made a big thing of really wanting him to satisfy her during the evening, but when they started their love making, his tool did exactly as she had expected, nothing. He couldn't understand it, he'd never had a problem before, but in apparent frustration, she jumped out of bed, got a baby doll nightie and panty set out of her draw and told him to put them on. "If you can't be a man, you'd better make a damn good wife, Angela." She was trying not to laugh at her sudden brain wave of a new name for him. At the same time hurt and dejected, he slowly put the ultra feminine items on. They went to sleep, both in anticipation of the next day, but both with very different expectations. It was Tanya who was happy at the start of the next day, she put another two tablets into his morning coffee, to make sure he had no quick recovery, and when it came time to dress, she gave him a pair of her panties to wear, taking all of his boxers, out to the rubbish bin. Andrew was distraught at the turn of events, but mostly because he felt he'd let his wife down. He was more than a little disturbed by finding that the sensation of wearing the frilly undergarment was actually rather pleasant. The day passed with a stony silence from Tanya, and when she went out, without saying where she was going, for four hours in the afternoon, it provided him with a short period of relief. When she returned it was with multiple shopping bags, which she took straight to their spare bedroom. By bedtime she seemed to relax a little, and she came on to him again, but of course they were no more successful at making love than they were the night before. He ended up back in the baby doll nightdress. The next morning she was awake and dressed before him, made a few preparations, then shook him awake. The first thing he noticed about her was that she was in jeans and a T-shirt, she usually favoured a dress of some sort. "I said that you should make a better housewife than husband," she scolded him, "well, now's your chance to prove it." She dragged him into their bathroom and covered his body and the beard area of his face in a foul smelling cream and told him to stand still. In no time the cream was stinging and we was relieved when she told him to get into the shower. He watched as what hair he had on his body disappeared down the drain. Once dried off she roughly pushed his flaccid penis back, forcing his balls up into his body and securing them in place with a very tight panty-girdle. She smeared adhesive onto his chest and held two breast forms against it. "What on earth are you doing?" he asked. "I'm making you into a good housewife of course." "Look, I'm sorry," he started to sound desperate, "I'll go to the doctor and find out what's going wrong, you've no need to do this." "No! You look Angela," she was now being her most forceful, "you obviously can't be my husband, but be warned, if you can't make me a good wife then I'll make you my maid." By this time he was wearing a bra and some of the surprising weight of the breasts was transferred to the shoulder straps which she had adjusted tighter. He recognised that she wasn't in any mood to talk rationally, so allowed her to pull a pair of pantyhose up his legs, which he found rather sensual against his newly denuded skin. The dressing was completed with a near transparent white blouse, a grey pencil skirt that hugged his hips and thighs, and a pair of black shoes with three inch heels. From the fact that everything fitted so well, and she had the breast forms ready, told him that she had prepared for this the previous day. The thought crossed his mind that it was odd that she knew in advance that he wasn't going to be able to perform. Was it, he wondered some form of set up? "You knew this was going to happen," he accused her, and started to unbutton the blouse. "Leave that alone, Angela." She turned and in one movement punched him in the stomach. "I warn you, it's maid duties if you don't make a good wife." He was left gasping for air and shocked, she always was very forceful, but she'd never hit him before and he was left wondering how he could get out of this ever increasingly bad situation. His eyes were tear filled, for the first time in his life, he was afraid of someone close to him. He knew that there was no way he could win by being physical, Tanya worked out twice or even sometimes three times a week. She often occupied herself that way while he was sat behind a desk, working on ideas, or on his computer. Besides, while they were each five feet six tall, she had a good twenty or thirty pounds on him, and it was nearly all muscle. She sat him down in front of her vanity and started to apply make up to his face, telling him what she was doing so, she said, he could do it himself in future. After finishing off by coating his lips with generous layer of bright red lipstick, she moved on to his hair, which was rather long, the way he normally kept it. She gave him a centre parting, then combed the front forward and used a pair of scissors to cut a fringe. "Now go and get my breakfast, wifey dearest." She was smiling as they walked downstairs, he went through to the kitchen, she went out and got the morning newspaper. In a few minutes, he found her in their sitting room reading, he told her that her breakfast was ready and they both sat at the kitchen table and ate. He decided to go along with whatever she wanted for the day, and hopefully she would be over things by the next. "I'll just have orange juice this morning," she told him, knowing that she had laced the coffee in the pot with more of the tablets. Her determination to cower her new 'wife' into submission made her ignore his safety when it came to dosing him with something with possible side effects. "Every day you must wash down the kitchen units and scrub the floor, the bedroom must be dusted, the bed made, or changed on Monday and Friday mornings. Also every day you must clean both the toilets especially the bowls, and vacuum and dust the downstairs rooms. Every Saturday and Wednesday the dirty laundry must be cleaned and ironed. I expect my wife to present me with all meals, keep herself pretty and immaculately made up and have a pleasant smile on her face at all times. Any questions?" "How long am I going to have do this?" "I should have thought that was quite obvious, dear, you will be my wife for as long as you can't fulfil your duties as a husband in the bedroom," she replied, with what Angela recognised as a sly smile on her face. "This morning I'm going to advertise for a secretary come assistant, to help me work." He let that slide because he knew that unless he stopped doing research and helped her with the new franchises in different countries, she did have a great deal to do. "I can work with you while we don't have help, my research can go on the back burner for a few weeks and in any case, I'm fluent in French and Spanish, so that potential customers wouldn't need to employ translators." "Oh, no, dear." She sounded as if she was talking to a five year old. "You have quite enough on your hands, looking after me and the house, you don't need to worry your pretty little head about it." Again he just accepted the situation, knowing that his expertise would still be needed, even if she didn't realise it now. He was cleaning the kitchen thoroughly when, at ten thirty his wife called. "Angela dear, bring me another coffee." He interrupted what he was doing and by the time he had finished she appeared with her empty cup. "I just thought I'd come and see how you were getting on." She put the cup in the sink and opened the 'fridge door. "I thought you said you had finished. Look in here, I can see the ring that last bottle of milk made. You'd better take everything out shelf by shelf and then clean it properly." After completing that task, he moved on to the bedroom, then bathrooms. He put the evening meal on to cook while he did downstairs. At six o'clock Tanya told him to go up and change into the dress she had laid on the bed, and freshen up his make up at the same time. He did exactly as he was told, finding a pale pink cocktail dress that fit him like a glove. The satin material felt nice to him, making him feel uncomfortable. "Your hair is a mess," Tanya commented as they sat at the dining room table.. He remembered a brush in one of the kitchen drawers, so he went in there and tidied his hair. "Better?" he asked when he sat back down. "A bit, but I shouldn't have to tell my wife that sort of thing." They ate the meal in silence. For another night Tanya pretended frustration at his non-responsive penis. He was back in a nighty, while she turned her back on him, he spent a restless night. "Please, Tanya, if you love me don't keep making me do this." He had to find a way to change her mind the next morning as she told him what to wear. "What's the matter, don't you like to being my wife?" After hitting him the morning before and his consequential submissiveness, she found her new found power addictive and gave her a rush to her groin, making her moist. "No I'm your husband, why would I want to be your wife?" "Think carefully, your wish to be my maid might very well be granted..." she sneered in a way he'd never seen before and it frightened him. "That's not what I meant and you know it." Desperation was showing in his voice, and she could hear it. "Why do you insist in putting me in these clothes?" "You are in those clothes because they are suitable for someone who isn't a man and you will stay in them until you can prove differently." He gave up and the both sat down to an armed truce over breakfast. Again his coffee was laced with two of the tablets, but there was no way he was going to notice. "I'm going to work on those foreign licence agreements, you are going to clear these dishes away, clean the kitchen thoroughly, then the bathroom and the bedroom. Change the bedding and put the dirty items in the wash, by that time I will be ready for my lunch. Give me a call when it's ready." She flounced out of the room leaving no time for argument. He accepted the inevitable, cleaned the kitchen, but as he brought the bedding down to place in the washing machine he heard her call for 'Angela', he went to see what she wanted. "It's time for a coffee my pretty little wife, bring it to me in here please, Angela." He ignored her comments and took her in a cup of coffee, placing it on his desk that she was using. "Thank you, Angela," she said with a smile. He got on with the chores she had given him, preparing chicken soup with a fresh buttered roll for lunch. He called her for lunch at one o'clock so she finished the call she was making to her friend, Janice, and joined him in the kitchen. "There, you see, you can make a good wife to me," she told him, ignoring the fact that he often had prepared meals for them in the past. "This afternoon, you must vacuum the ground floor rooms, and polish our silver, we will eat in the dining room tonight. I want your very best three course meal, wifey dear." That evening he tried to surpass himself with the meal, hoping that it might make her less aggressive towards him. He decided to play along with her, not that he had much of a choice, but thinking that she would soon get over whatever was bugging her. But, that night in bed, when again he couldn't perform, she berated him as even being a useless wife, not able to keep her husband happy. "There's more than one way to have sex," she told him, pulling something out of her bedside drawer. She moved her pillows down the bed and told him to lie with his stomach over them. The next he knew was that she was pushing something large and hard against his sphincter which was unaccustomed to its size. With no lubrication she had to struggle to forced it into him. As he felt his sphincter being pressed open more and more painfully, he shouted for her to stop. Far from stopping, she suddenly pushed the huge dildoe into him. She had a double ended one, but she had chosen the smaller end for herself, the size of an average penis, the end she pushed into him was at least three times that size. He screamed but she started to punch each side of his head, the combination of that and the pain from his lower back caused him to pass out before she had climaxed. She was furious with him. She jumped out of bed, dragging him only half conscious with her, into the spare bedroom. "You can't even be a good wife you useless piece of garbage!" She shouted at him, stripping him of his feminine night attire. Naked, she turned him round and fastened a garment round his middle by some heavy duty looking eyelets, then started to pull on the laces at his back, she was helping him stand as he was hardly able on his own... He saw that it was a corset that extended up to support his fake breasts, and down to his lower stomach, as it tightened, it squeezed the falsies making his actual flesh form a sort of cleavage. Each time he started to collapse forwards, his own weight added to her strength on the laces.. When he complained that he couldn't breathe, she spun him round and punched him in the face, then while he was even more dazed, turned him again and tightened the corset with renewed vigour. At the point that he could only just continue breathing, she pushed him down onto the bed and handcuffed his wrists to the bed head. "You don't want to be a good wife, I warned you, now you're going to be my maid. I'll finish you in the morning." She left him like that, not noticing the growing blood stain on the bedding under him. He was unconscious until she came to release him in the morning, by then he had slid down the bed, so again she didn't notice his loss of blood. As he was helped up out of bed, he had a natural reflex of pulling the duvet back up, covering the blood. She tightened the laces on the corset some more, then slid a pair of lacy g-string panties up his legs. He was only half aware of her attaching sheer seemed stockings to the suspenders on the corset, then slipping a dress over his head. It was a black satin, French maid's costume, complete with built in petticoats that made the tiny skirt stand out at right angles and leaving his naked backside almost completely open to view. The costume was completed with an apron, clearly designed for looks, not practicality, and five inch heeled shoes that locked round his ankles. When she told him not to bother with make up but to get on with making breakfast, he didn't move. Tanya stomped off into her bedroom, returning with a vicious riding crop of thin, whippy leather bound metal and beat his backside with it. Eventually, with more urging, he walked slowly and uncertainly on his heels, down to the kitchen and started the coffee and toast. As it was a nice morning, she told him to serve her breakfast on their patio, which he eventually did. As she was eating, they heard the front door bell ring, and she told Angela to go and answer it. Their visitor was Tanya's friend Janice, complete with her professional equipment, and Angela silently ushered her in. She specialised in applying so called 'permanent make up', a little of a misnomer as it usually had to be reapplied every four to six months. Angela was told to get Janice a coffee, then to sit on a kitchen stool and wait for her. As they sat and chatted Janice told her friend how amazed she was that Andrew was so docile. "He seems to be taking this maid business as if he always wanted it," she remarked. "Well, he had to have a bit of persuasion to start with," Tanya explained, "but once I made it clear that I was the boss, and this is what I expected, then he readily agreed." "He knows about this make up I'm going to put on him? You know that I need him to sign a form so that my insurance covers me?" "Oh, yes," Tanya replied, with a confidence she didn't really feel, "he was all for it when I explained that it would save him from putting fresh make up on every day." They returned to the kitchen to find Angela sitting patiently on the stool, still waiting for further instructions. Before Janice could say anything about the papers in her hand, Tanya took them and a pen, pushing them onto Angela's lap. "Sign this, darling," she spoke gently to him, "this will mean you don't have to put make up on every day, the way I told you." In his stupor, Angela had no idea what his wife was talking about, but vaguely it registered that if he didn't sign it would mean that he would be putting on make up. He made a valiant attempt to sign the paper, although the end of his scrawl, nothing like his signature, ended with a trail that went off the bottom of the page as he forgot to lift the pen from the paper. "Your signature gets worse and worse, darling." Tanya made light of the scrawl. Although Janice was worried that perhaps Angela wasn't quite with it, she started preparations for her work. The first thing she did was to dye his long hair blonde. For some weeks he had been going to get a haircut, but never seemed to be able to find the time. Now his long man's hair, became a medium length woman's hair, with plenty of curls thrown in. Janice did notice some blood on one ear and both looked a little swollen, but she though no more of it. She chatted away, as was her habit with her clients, not noticing that it was always Tanya that answered. Any reservations she may have had were dissipated as Angela calmly did everything she was told; 'close your eye', 'open your eye', 'lift your chin' and so on. She felt that he obviously had no problem with her working on him. Janice did notice that he seemed to have some bruises on his face, but Tanya just explained them away, telling her that he was unusually clumsy. As well as the make up, she plucked his eyebrows to a fine line, then emphasised that line with her indelible ink. She added long black lashes to his eyes, top and bottom, each glued separately or in pairs, to ensure they wouldn't come off, remarking that she could feel the draft when he blinked. She was disappointed that he didn't laugh, but put it down to not having a sense of humour. Eventually her work was done, Tanya paid her cash, and she took her leave. "Get your useless backside to work, go and make my bed then get my lunch." Angela hardly blinked and slowly stood up, then seemed unsure which way to go. "Bedroom! Go and tidy my bedroom, slut." Tanya had regained her crop and once more started to beat his backside. He didn't seem to flinch, so she started to hit him with all the strength she could muster. She noticed again a warm feeling she got as she was beating him and that drove her on. He slowly turned and started to totter on his heels towards the stairs, still not showing any pain, then she saw what she had done. Angry red, black and blue lines were laid across his cheeks, the skin was torn and they were oozing dark blood. It started to run down his legs, even showing as it trickled down his stockings. The early beating, now four hours old, had already started to make the whole of the area black and purple, it only made this latest beating that more obvious. It was then that she noticed blood on the stool he had been sitting on, then a trail of droplets to where he walked. "Andrew!" she screamed. "Look at what you made me do!" Confused by the sudden name change jarring him back towards reality, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed. Tanya was thinking quickly, she realised that if she called to get help for him, questions would be asked about his injuries. She knew that it wouldn't look good for her, even though she felt that Angela had brought this on himself. After all, she thought, if he'd just done what she'd told him without argument, none of this would have been necessary. She took the crop and hid it in her bedroom then got a pitcher of iced water from the fridge, and started splashing his face. It took a few minutes, but eventually he started to stir, and that made it possible to get him upstairs, where she laid him on his bed, face down. That way she was able to examine his wounds more closely, deciding that they were only superficial, leaving him there until he had recovered some of his senses. By the time she had gone and got herself some lunch, the bleeding stopped, but she left him on his bed for the rest of the day to recover while she checked their e-mails to see if anything was urgent on the business front. In the evening she told him that if he wanted some dinner he would have to stir himself and make it, thinking that it would get him mobile again, but he refused. "Please yourself," she told him, "but you needn't think that I'm going to wait on my maid." By the next morning Tanya found that she could at last hold a conversation with him, although his attitude sounded, to her, brusque. He was still dressed from the day before, even his heels remained on his feet. She told him to stir himself and get her breakfast and he slowly and to him, painfully obliged, serving her, as he was ordered, in the dining room. He had just enough will power to get himself a coffee and a slice of toast then proceed to the housework that she had ordered while she worked in their home office. She started to insist that he call her 'Mistress' and curtsey whenever he interacted with her. "I don't want to hear your surly voice unless I ask you a direct question, Angela, do you understand?" "Yes Mistress." He found that it was less painful if he just did as he was told. Then she decided that a friendly approach might possibly get him in a better mood to serve her. "Don't you see, Angela, being a maid isn't all that bad? You'll eventually come to enjoy it." "No, Mistress, it is worse than bad." He softened his answer by curtseying. "What do you mean?" she asked him with irritation in her voice. "I am a maid because you beat me if I don't do as you say." He spoke in a monotone. "I will never enjoy being a slave... Mistress." "Get on with your work, girly, I don't want to hear another word from you." She couldn't hide her annoyance, but at the same time felt that she couldn't very well prove his point by disciplining him. She spent some time later, not thinking about what he had said, only wondering if there were ways to make him more compliant. She didn't care if he was unhappy in his new position, but she did want him to smile anyway, she got a kick out of knowing that he wouldn't be allowed to express himself even in that mildest way. She got more annoyed as the morning wore on, resenting that he told her how he felt, she decided that he had to be shown that it was her way or no way. When he told her that lunch was ready, she ordered him to leave the room and come back with a smile on his face. He left and returned as told, but there was still no smile. She stood up and before he had time too react, she punched him hard on the jaw. He fell to the floor where she kicked him in the ribs. "You will do as I say girl." She emphasised his assumed female gender. "You're useless in bed, either as a man or a woman and now you can't do as you're told as a maid." She went to kick him again, and in that split second, realised that she was enjoying the physical act of beating him again, she was becoming damp between her legs. "Please, no, no more, I can't take it," he begged her and drew his legs up to protect his body. She kicked him again, even harder, but this time connected with his balls which his position had made vulnerable. He screamed in agony, rolling on the floor. She nearly climaxed. "Get up wimp," she told him. "Do I have to get my riding crop to make you do anything?" He got slowly up, then his legs gave way and he had to use the chair back next to him as an aid, only then could he get to his shaking legs. What with the pain and his stupid heels, he could barely limp back to the kitchen to serve her meal. While she was eating her lunch she had an idea, how she could get her husband to be totally subservient. Long gone was the aim of just getting back into the workplace, finding a job that she felt was of sufficient status for her, now it was all about domination. As soon as she finished eating she made a phone call, then summoned Angela into her presence. "This evening I'm having a guest to dinner," she explained. "He's an old boyfriend of mine and you will treat him as if he's your favourite guest, smile and be helpful in every way. If you don't I intend to take him to bed, after all, I need a real man. If you treat him as God, I won't. Isn't that simple? Tell me you understand." "Yes, Mistress, I understand." He curtseyed. He had to re-plan the meal for that evening, as he only reckoned on his Mistress eating, he had lost his appetite, and re-thinking the menu helped take his mind off his wife's guest. At seven o'clock Tanya heard someone at the door, and called her maid to answer it and show the gentleman in. Angela was determined not to give any excuse for the man to stay, and curtseyed to him before showing him into the lounge. Tanya ordered drinks, but before he could carry out the instruction, James Lipton, as he now remembered the man's name from meeting him a couple of years ago, produced a bottle of Champagne for him to open. Tanya gave her maid instructions to bring in an ice bucket and two Champagne glasses, which he duly did. While they were drinking, Angela placed the cold starter on the table, then went to the lounge, standing there silently waiting for his Mistress to acknowledge that it was his way to tell her that the meal was ready. Instead, she told him to open a bottle of their best Burgundy, to allow it to breathe. He returned once that was done, to find that they were just finishing the last drops from the Champagne. He was getting very concerned as he knew that Tanya couldn't hold her drink very well. "I heard when you got married," James was telling her, "I know it wasn't long ago, so what happened to your man?" "He turned out to be not much of a man, as it happens," Tanya replied, laughing rather drunkenly. "In fact he was as much a man as my maid standing there." Angela could feel his face flushing and hoped that the man didn't notice, although that wasn't all on his mind. He found that as the evening wore on, he was feeling sick, a little light headed, and his backside seemed to be aching very badly. Once his Mistress had shown that they were ready to eat, he led the way to the dining room, to pull a chair out for his Mistress, having noticed that she had leaned heavily on the ex- boyfriend's shoulder on the way. He hurried round to pull his chair out for the guest to sit. As they started to eat, he gave a small taste of the wine to his Mistress to check. As soon as she approved it, he topped up her glass and that of her ex.. Even before she had finished the starter she had two top ups of wine against his one, and told him they would need another bottle. Reluctantly, Angela had to do as he was told, still not wishing to give any excuse for debauched behaviour. The main course and sweet followed without further incident, but then he was ordered to bring cheese and biscuits, and the decanter of Port. This, Angela realised, was a sure sign that his Mistress had already had too much to drink. She only ever regretted drinking more than a very small glass of the fortified wine, otherwise she invariably woke up the next day with a headache. He was less concerned with that than he was about her losing her judgement. He returned to the kitchen to clean, hoping that James would soon leave, trying to ignore that he was feeling distinctly unwell, in fact by that time, couldn't stop himself trembling. The next thing he heard were footsteps on their stairs. He hurried out of the kitchen to just get a glimpse of them headed towards her bedroom. He followed as quickly as he could, not very fast given his condition, entering the bedroom as his Mistress was stripping the clothes off her guests. "Mistress, you promised." He stared at her and knew she understood what he was saying and hesitated. "What's this about?" demanded James then registered that she seemed to be backing out on her promise of a good night. "You let your maid decide who you're going to bed with?" "No I don't!" she exclaimed. "Come over here, girl." She pulled Angela towards the bed, kicked him again hard in the testicles, punching him in the side of his head as he fell forward. She retrieved her riding crop from between her side table and the bed and started whipping his backside again. He screamed and tried to roll away from the cutting blows that were aimed at his already badly damaged cheeks. His escape attempt was stopped by the man, holding him down while he was beaten even worse than previously. In less than a minute, he went limp and James let him go. Tanya still kept hitting him, until her boyfriend stopped her. "There's no point in carrying on," he told her, "he can't feel it, he's fainted." It was then that he saw the reason for the maid fainting. His behind was a mass of blood, running off him and onto the bed and floor. "God!" he exclaimed. "What have you done? I think you've killed him." It was true that Angela's face was white as a sheet and he was barely breathing. The wife's intended boyfriend hurriedly dressed himself. "What are you doing?" asked the now frustrated woman. "Where do you think you're going?" "I want no part of this, I'm off." With that he rushed out and started down the stairs. "It's all right James, he's been like it before, he'll recover." James stopped dead and came back to the doorway. "What do you mean 'he'?" "Oh it's really my husband, I got bored with him, gave him something to make him soft and couldn't get an erection, then turned him into my maid. It's OK, I've hit him like it a couple of times before, he'll be better by the morning. Come back to bed." "You're mad, I'm not hanging around here." With that he left, phoning for a taxi on his way. He realised that he was still going to have to come back in the morning to retrieve his car. He had been on a promise that night, thinking that she'd broken up with her husband, so he'd reckoned on staying overnight, now he had to leave and he'd had much too much alcohol to risk driving. Back in the bedroom, Tanya tried kicking her maid a couple of times without response, so resorted to some water from her bathroom. It certainly didn't wake him fully, but enough to push him out of her room. She went to bed both frustrated and furious at Angela for ruining the evening, she also realised that she had a headache coming on. Angela didn't know what was happening. He hurt all over and assumed that his wife was in bed with another man. In agony he slowly crawled back down the stairs, tumbling painfully down the last few. He lay there for a few minutes, then crawled on hands and knees to his office room. He pulled the phone off the desk and scrolled down the memory to find the number of the only person he thought could help him, his friend and lawyer, Brian Shilton. The phone rang, then a weary voice answered. "Hello." "It's... Angela... Maison." He could only speak in a horse whisper. "Who?" "It's Angel...No... Andrew... Andrew... Maison." It took all his concentration. "Andrew, what's the matter, do you know what time it is?" "I'm ill... Need help... please." "What's happened, where's Tanya?" "Gone mad...I...Think mad." "Listen, I see you're on your land line, hang up and I'll come right over." Brian put the phone down and started getting dressed, his wife woke and asked what was going on. He explained that Andrew Maison was ill and told her to call an ambulance while he went over to their house. He only lived a few minutes' drive away, so it wasn't long before he was knocking on the Maisons' front door and getting no reply. He made a decision and called the police, telling them that an ambulance was already on its way. He only had to wait five minutes for the ambulance and the police patrol car arrived not long after. With Tanya now passed out in her bed, and Angela collapsed in the doorway of his office, the police made the decision to break in. They broke the glass and reached in to unlock the front door, only proceeding with considerable care and with the back up of three more officers who had by then arrived. They found the unconscious couple in a short while, confused at first by the 'maid' in the door to the office. Angela regained semi-consciousness at one stage, explaining that Tanya (he called her 'my Mistress') had drunk too much and that his backside hurt. Not wishing to take any chances, both of them were taken to hospital, to be assessed in A and E. A blood test quickly confirmed that Tanya was indeed, only drunk. The similar test carried out on Angela, showed that he had severe blood poisoning, quite apart from his more obvious injuries. Meanwhile, the police tracked down the owner of the car parked in the Maisons' driveway. James gave a candid explanation of what had happened that evening, including that Tanya had admitted to him that she'd given her husband something to stop him getting erections without his knowledge. He denied that he knew that she was still together with her husband until that point, telling them it came as a shock when he was told and caused him to leave her. In the cold light of morning, Andrew, as he was now identified, was moved into the Intensive Care Unit, and Tanya to the nearest police station, her hangover not improving her temper. At first she insisted that she only dressed him as a maid when he was rude to her after not being able to penetrate her during sex. The officer interviewing got her to repeat her story in great detail several times, and when contradictions began to appear, started to trip her up. When James Lipton's statement was in part read to her, she finally admitted that she had caused his bodily malfunction and how she did it. Then they started to get details of where she had hit him, when and with what. As they had at least some idea of the timings of various injuries from the doctors looking after him, and again, James's statement, she eventually gave them a nearly complete history of her violence, including his rape. At this point she changed her mind and asked for a lawyer. The police were content that it was too late for a lawyer to help her. They didn't at that time know about the permanent make up. It was only after her lawyer arrived that she thought to ask how Andrew was. She was visibly shocked when they told her that he was in Intensive Care and his survival was by no means certain. By lunchtime she had been charged with Grievous Bodily Harm, but was warned that GBH was going to probably be the first of several further charges. She was released on bail, but her passport taken away and she had to wear an ankle monitor. She was also not allowed to visit Andrew in the hospital, and they refused to give her information about him when she phoned, telling her they had been told not to speak to her about him, his medical information was private. It was really only then that she began to realise the seriousness of what she had done. She only learned through her lawyer that as a result of the two separate occasions she had kicked his testicles, they had to be removed, together with a small section of his penis. By that time, the police had also arrested her friend, the beautician Janice. In exchange for her testimony, she was given a conditional discharge which frightened her so much that she stopped selling permanent make up. When Tanya had to appear in court, she had no option but to plead guilty to six charges all relating to spousal abuse but classified as GBH. The judge gave a lecture in court about how he viewed any violence within the framework of marriage, and whether it was perpetrated by the husband or the wife, it made no difference to him. The various sentences amounted to eight years concurrent, but of course, that wasn't the end of the matter. Andrew's lawyer waited for the result of the criminal trial before launching a civil case for damages linked, of course to the divorce. Andrew ended up with pretty much everything. By now Andrew's life had spiralled in two different directions at once. His business had now gone global, he had to employ enough staff to look after his interests, and was rapidly on the way to becoming one of the wealthiest men in the country. His private life, however had plummeted from the low of his marriage, to the new low of his physical condition. He could no longer think of himself as a man, but it took a long time for him to remember the nice things about wearing skirts, and contemplate having the big operation. Three years after his divorce he faced up to the inevitable and with it, changed her name to, no not Angela it was too raw still, in fact Shireen was the name she chose, after a girl he had fancied when he was at school. Now she was all woman, except the little matter of childbirth, but while she was sad that she wouldn't have children, as a man or a woman, she didn't dwell on it. Although she assumed that she would present as a lesbian, as she never had any latent tendencies of fancying men, she was curious now that she had the equipment, to try it out. It was some time before she found a man who she felt she was comfortable enough to go to bed with, a pleasant schoolteacher. His wife had died of cancer, leaving him with two nice kids, a girl and a boy, eight and six years old. When she started to date him seriously, she explained a bit of her background, enough to get the important facts, without the blood and gore. George told her he didn't mind, he already had a family and had no desire for more children. Without great expectation, beyond spending time with someone who could talk intelligently and shared many of her interests, one night they found themselves in bed together. Shireen found it glorious. As George was worried about how the children would take a new mother, they played it very carefully. They were so careful that, one evening, while they were all watching television at George's house, the children presented Shireen with a home made card. It read: We need a new mummy, she won't be the same as our real mummy, she'll be different, but if you will take the job, we will love you XXX It had both of them close to tears, especially when George got down on one knee and proposed right there, in front of them. That tipped Shireen over the edge, and with tears streaming down her face, she accepted, to the delighted whoops and shouts from the children. She did have one further embarrassing heart to heart with George, when she explained in more detail how she ended up as a woman, and then the revelation that although George knew that she wasn't poor, he hadn't any idea of what she was actually worth. He had to grasp that it didn't matter how much they spent, her fortune was almost always increasing at a faster rate. What a problem to have. When they got married, it was quite a lavish affair, but as they came out of the church, they didn't notice a plain, rather dowdy woman, watching from a distance. Tanya regretted every minute of her time committing domestic violence.