Satinised at Girdleworld Chapter 1 of 3
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Satinised in Girdleworld - Chapter 3
Chapter 3 : Dressed to go out
The gloves were shiny but she liked to keep them dusted in her own face
powder; she knew how he was helpless with that scent and his flimsy
penis hardened to the touch of powdered rubber. They were as long as her
arms, close fitting to the wrist but widening into deep sleeves that
finished with an elastic cuff. The silk of her blouse sizzled into it
and she pushed her fingers into the close fitting hand. Her captive
watched helplessly as she pulled on her second glove, and there before
him was his mother-in-law, taking her seat with her bowl of warm suds
and her large natural sponge.
"This is a naughty lickel peenie, isn't it, pwecious?" she pouted,
wetting the fingers of her gloves and softly catching his scrotum and
shaft in her gloved fingers. His chin sank with shame onto his bare
chest, for he knew that his Mistress was right and it was his miserable
submissiveness to her clothing that had made him disgrace himself across
her black pencil skirt.
"I... I'm so sorry, Mumsie, yes, I..."
She tightened her grip with both gloves, bringing him to a halt with a
"Yipe!"
"Is my lickel baby boysie forgetting to talk to his Mumsie in a pwoper
sissy voice when she is cuddling his sissy lickel popsie, den?"
His penis was stiffly erect in her hands as he danced on his toes and
corrected himself.
"Oh goshee, Mumsie dearest, yeth... your thilly thithy boythie forgot
about how girlie he can be when hith Mumthie playth with hith peenie-
weenie. I am tho thowwy!"
"And to whom does this sissy lickel peenie-weenie belong, may I ask?"
"Oh Mumthie, I want my lickel popthie-wopthie to belong to you, pwetty
pleathe."
"Yes," she announced with a growl of ownership, "it does belong to me,"
and she released his member from one hand so that she could submerge her
sponge into the soapy water, squeeze it slightly, then press it round
the upright shaft of his defenceless member.
Philip Bracegirdle's penis had always been an object of shame to him. It
hung above his scrotum like a little toy, it barely managed to stir
itself into some length in front of his wife... but in front of his
mother-in-law it was invariably stiffened and filled with unwonted
pleasure.
"My oh my, it does feel girlish this morning, Phyllis pet." She sponged
it softly up and down in warm suds, including washing the strictly
harnessed scrotum at its base. "So soft and pink and pretty. We really
will be having to order some frilled party peenie-dresses for it for
when it is to be viewed by my friends, don't you think?"
He had to make a full answer... but his mother-in-law's blouse bow, her
long rubber gloves, her high-heeled black button boots, her thick
lipstick and her gorgeously blonded bouffant hair-do meant that he
needed total concentration to avoid a disastrous surge of sexual
surrender. If he were to squirt into her blouse now, after his wretched
loss of control in the lap of her skirt, he almost swooned to think what
would happen to him, especially since his wife was still in the house
and would take a full part in his punishment.
Luckily for the hapless victim, his mother-in-law was fully aware of
this. "Huh, lost our tongue have we? Overwhelmed by Mumsie's ravishing
loveliness, eh? Wanting to jerk into her blouse and girdle but too
chicken, I can see. Too damn limp and feeble!"
She put her sponge back into the water and wrapped the towel round the
genital set, playing with it, for all the world as if she were young
again and petting one of her dolls. She looked up to see her daughter
return with a double armload of garments for her pathetic husband, all
of which met instantly with her approval.
"You're a girl in your mother's image, sweetheart," she laughed,
checking that her upright and naked little toy was perfectly dry. She
left it to get the air to it for a moment before she would give it its
brushing. "Just the blouse I would have picked myself, with the
stiffened collar sewn with extra buttons, and the ice blue silk pants...
ha, ha!... he's going to get those tingling outdoor frilly-fright
trembles, I think."
"They were my own satin pyjamas, Mother. I wore them the night we got
'married'; the only night he's ever seen me going to bed, what with you
having him to yourself now."
Her words brought a whimper from her husband as he stood beside his
mother-in-law's chair. The satin pants were extremely wide legged,
perhaps eighteen inches across, all the way down. But that was only the
start of his public humiliation worries in them. His Mistresses had
arranged for Muriel's dressmaker to use Crystal's pyjama top to modify
the pants to suit the sissy who would be wearing them. The scalloped
lace trimming had been sewn round the hem of each leg, along with a
ribbon of ice blue satin six inches deep which sported an equally wide
ribbon bow, sewn flat across the outside of each leg-bottom. His pants
were also fitted with a high waist, prettily trimmed with six pretty
glass daisy buttons in two rows below the cleavage of his bust and with
another satin bow at the back, below his bra band. The pants were still
lined right through, of course, with pale blue silk, and sizzled as
Crystal hung their hanger alongside his blouse, chemise and knickers.
"It's what you deserve, you sexless, impotent fairy," growled his wife,
turning a snarling stare in his direction. "Sexless frillies for sexless
sissies. And from what Mother has been telling me, it's what your own
sexuality is crying out for."
"Absolutely begging for," sneered Muriel, the sleeves of her blouse
sizzling over her gloves as she arranged her penis brush in a firm grip
and clamped his shaft in the other hand. "If he doesn't want to spend
every minute of every day and night in my petticoats and skirts, he's
aching to be buttoned into something ever so sweet and pretty, and that
skirt and blouse will do nicely."
There was a cry from above her hair as Philip Gracegirdle felt the brush
rasp like fury up and down the stiffness of his captive penis. He cried
out again as she went at her cleaning with a will, revelling in the
helplessness of his agony. Crystal stood next to him and grabbed his jaw
in a grip.
"Shut up, you pathetic weakling. You're not being hurt, you're being
cleaned up so that you're in a fit state to visit your future place of
work."
His eyes were like saucers as a look of shock swept over his face. "F-
Future place of... work?" he whimpered, cringing under the relentless
scrubbing on his delicate parts.
"Why yes, darling boy," cried his wife, wide-eyed with surprise herself.
"Did I forget to tell you? How very careless of me! Yes, Miss
Weightbinder is so looking forward to teaching you your store assistant
duties."
A wail of horror escaped her husband. It might have been on hearing this
horribly unwelcome news or might have been with the crescendo of
scrubbing his mother-in-law was administering to rub home the point that
he was helpless in the hands of women who were completely in control of
him.
"And we must get you suitably dressed to arrive at GirdleWorld, you
lucky boy," declared Muriel, setting down her brush and joining her
daughter in examining the rich pink bloom of sensitively flushed skin on
every part of his erected penis. She operated her control handset and
relaxed the strain on his ceiling leash, so that her daughter could undo
the harness and release her husband's genitals. The quivering sissy
caught his breath at last after half an hour of standing on his toes, as
Muriel opened her gold table-case powder compact and used the soft puff
to dust his tender organ copiously with sweet scented pink powder.
"You're going to have to be in your nicest panties and petticoats,
Phyllis, if you are to persuade the ladies who patronise GirdleWorld to
buy lots of knickers and corsets," she said with a warning edge to her
voice. Crystal handed her the pair of her mother's ivory satin French
knickers she had selected, prettily decorated on each leg with
embroidery and trimmed round the legs with two inches of lacework.
"What kind of patrons is the Clown likely to be meeting, darling?"
Crystal stooped elegantly in her long narrow skirt, presenting the wide
knicker legs for her husband to place his high-heels into, and slid them
up his legs as she replied. "Only the highest class of matrons,
naturally. Ladies who will look down on him as if he were a slug in the
gutter."
Her husband quivered with pleasure as the panties slithered softly
arround his bottom and his stiffened penis pushed with desire into its
satin pantie gusset, and a little whimper of lust escaped him as Crystal
presented his high heels with his second pair of her mother's knickers:
a pale blue pair of directoire knickers in celanese silk. They flowed
like liquid up his stockings and surrounded his already knickered parts
with their feminising control.
"Of course he'll need training," she scoffed as she undid his wrist
ribbons ready for his blouse. "I can't imagine Veronica letting him
loose on her precious customers until he is properly dressed as a
shopfloor assistant in a ladieswear establishment."
"Of course not," snapped Muriel who had removed her rubber gloves and
was frothing her sleeves into their full billows of bronze satin. "And
he had better not disgrace me while he is in the presence of ladies of a
certain age. There'll be horrific penalties to pay, my boy, if you do.
Crystal, the chiffon chemise for him."
The front of her sissy-boy's knickers was like a tent as he threaded his
bare arms into the loose, sleeveless bodice of white silk chiffon, which
his wife buttoned together at his back down to his knickered bottom.
Then came his going-out blouse.
It was in crisp white silk with a faint pattern of large leaves
scattered through the material, giving it patches of soft grey here and
there, and a stiffness that made it rustle as Crystal slid it from its
hanger. The blouse had been Muriel's until she had decided to have it
modified for her little flatmate, but the lavishness of its sleeves and
large pointed collar was too much for him as he stood in his flared
chemise, knickers and stockings.
"Oh darling... ohhhhhhhhh! Oh please don't take me out of the house in
that blouse."
His panic could be understood. It was undoubtedly very feminine and at
the same time extravagant in the extreme, with a collar that was twelve
inches deep from where it folded over behind the neck and which came to
sharp points in front, with half an inch of white lace all round its
edge. The same lace trimming formed a pretty frill on either side of the
row of pretty glass buttons down the front, and the stiffened cuffs,
still unfastened and dangling at the end of his long sleeves. His plea
was from the heart, but he might as well have saved his breath. A slap
from Crystal's glove pounded his cheek.
"Get your arms into your blouse, you little piglet," she chided, shaking
her head at his lack of submissiveness and helping her mother to draw
the blouse together over his bra and fuss it into position.
"My, you will be a prissy sissy as you walk in off the High Street."
"He has to walk from the parking lot first, sweetheart," chuckled her
mother as she fastened his blouse down the front, leaving the deep,
turn-back cuffs to her daughter; "on the end of my leash. It's a crying
shame you can't lead him along the side walk with me, darling. The
ladies would adore seeing him dragged along between two leashes...
making his position very clear without having to explain anything. The
bleating turned to sobs of desperation at this realisation as Philip
Gracegirdle felt the blushes brightening his face as the blouse
overwhelmed him. The collar was even wider and longer than he suspected,
supporting his ears and spreading to the puffed silk at the top of his
sleeves at his shoulders, while the ends of his collar pointed forward
from the outsides of his breasts. Then Crystal brought his ice blue
pants.
The way the smooth satin caught the light as she unclipped them from
their hanger was too much and the wretched man could keep back his
embarrassment no longer.
"Now listen, Mumsie... you can't be serious about taking me out in this
blouse and those ridiculously effeminate pants!" and the stiffened wings
of his collar smoothed round his cheeks while his collar points
fluttered with the desperate pleading of his jaw.
The force of Muriel's blow on the side of his collar and hair would have
landed him at full length on the beige carpet, had he not fallen against
his irate wife. He was spared further unsteadiness by being grabbed and
held up by his right ear and twisted so that his nose was an inch from
his mother-in-law's.
"How DARE you speak to me as if you have even the SMALLEST say in the
matter, you lily-bellied weakling."
He wailed with pain as she held his ear down below the bow of her blouse
and forced him to look up at her through it.
"At this rate you'll be paying dearly for keeping your Mistresses late,"
and she caught hold of his other ear with her other hand and pulled him
straight in front of her and buried his face into the bow between her
breasts. "You will wear whatever your Mumsie wants you to wear, won't
you, Pansy Boy?"
There was an agonised nodding and spluttering in her bow.
"And that means even if Mumsie wants her little Pouffikins to look a
little bit ridiculous for her friends?"
His ears twisted further and his agreement would have been shouted out
had his nodding not been pulled even harder into the silk of her blouse.
"In fact ESPECIALLY when Mumsie wants her lickel knicker boy to be
ridiculous!"
He was screaming his muffled consent, his abject obedience, his total
devotion, as his ears nearly left the sides of his face. His blouse-
cuffed hands tried to intervene but failed.
His face was beetroot as he was allowed upright again to have his high
heels threaded into his satin pants. The lining slid in cold silk up the
length of his stockings and over his mother-in-law's knickers, where
Crystal fastened the glass buttons at the back of his waist and pulled
the blue silk sash into a sizzling bow.
"I want him in this girdle of mine too," announced Muriel, picking up a
modest flesh coloured girdle with six suspenders.
"Oh mother! We've just got him into his silk pants!"
"Don't worry, precious," soothed Muriel; "he's going to wear them over
his pants. I want them on show."
"Oh that's darling," gushed Crystal, turning her whimpering husband
towards her so that she could see the effect this unfortunate news was
having on him. "Let me pull your girdle up his pants, mother... right
up... so that his nice satin bow isn't covered... There, now, isn't that
sweet!"
Muriel pulled on her hat as she watched with great satisfaction. It was
a flamboyant spread of flowers and fruit above a wide brim, with black
netting ready to be dropped over her richly made up face.
"I can't have those lovely suspenders going to waste, of course."
Her daughter gave her a puzzled look. "Mother, you're not putting
stockings over his pants?"
Her mother snorted with amusement. "Another time, Crystal darling. Today
he's wearing these."
She picked up a pair of French knickers in white satin, delicately
trimmed around the wide legs with three inches of lace in a floral
pattern. Her daughter crossed to her mother and threw her arms around
her.
"Wonderful, Mother. Absolutely right for the pansy."
She laughed as she put his high-heels into them and threaded them over
the wide legs of his pale blue pants and drew them up, then attached the
knicker elastic to each of the six suspenders so that her husband had
the white panties hanging from the suspenders, with the lace trimming
barely covering his knees.
It was the last help Crystal could give her mother; she simply had to go
or she'd miss her flight. "And when he's asking Veronica to employ him,
make sure he begs her on his knees, Mother," she cried, hurrying to the
door. "And text me to tell me how he cried and cried."
Twenty minutes later, Philip Gracegirdle was standing outside the front
door, fully prepared for his journey and dressed to beg for employment
from the manageress of GirdleWorld. His blouse was buttoned through the
collar with the brown buttons of Muriel's Hudson mink jacket, which
reached in a wide swing to his knees, leaving barely one inch of knicker
lace showing. The collars of coat and blouse were turned up around his
cheeks and hair, and clipped neatly to the back of Muriel's pale blue
church bonnet, with a net of white lace arranged down over the Fool's
face. The deep turn backs of fur at his wrists were buttoned to the
front edges of the jacket beneath each pocket, so that movement of his
arms would neatly lift and open the fronts of his fur to reveal the
ensemble beneath.
"We shall have a practice," declared Muriel, pulling her tan kid gloves
tight over her wrists. "Veil... up!"
Philip Gracegirdle did as he was told, raising his own gloved hands to
his veil to lift it clear of his face, a copy of his darling mother-in-
law's in every aspect of its make-up. Up went his coat with his sleeves,
and there were his French knickers, suspenders and girdle for all to
see.
"Perfect," beamed Muriel, pulling her leash tight hrough the penis vent
of his satin pants. "To Girdle World, my effeminate pansy boy... Quick
march!"
***
All Prim's stories, most of them illustrated with Prim's art, are
available at his website at www.primspetticoatwendyhouse.com
including Walt Wisconsin parts 1-7, The Helpless Adventures of Johnny
parts 1-4, The Stepford Sissies parts 1-3, 33 issues of Prim's Petticoat
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