Makeover at the Mansion II

From Monica Levine
As told to Priscilla Gay Bouffant


(I give many, many thanks to Carrie P.) 


I knew that sooner or later, my sissy husband William, now called appropriately enough, Isabelle, would be returning to me fully trained by mother.

     I met mother for breakfast, every Saturday.  It was private. After the maid would serve, mother and I would discuss the family business and my progress as growing into full executive status.
     This morning however she was discussing things more personal. Foremost it was decided I would stay on and reside at the mansion. After all, I would one day inherit it. The other, even more personal, was about my sissified spouse, Isabelle.
     “She’s quite ready to return to you, Monica. She can be anything you want her to be. I suggest you avail yourself of her oral talents. I think you need to relax. If you really are frustrated, she’s been slut trained and you could use a faux penis on her to vent,” mother smiled.
      “Well, I’ll move her into my old boudoir. I shall continue to reside in the Mistress suite. Goodness, I’ve barely seen her since you hid her away from me. Just glimpses now and then as she minced and sashayed through the house with the maids,” I laughed.
     It was true. Isabelle dined privately either with the maids or mother. During the rest of the day, it was my understanding her activities varied. Housekeeping with the household staff, charm lessons with mother or Michelle, trips to the hair salon, shopping and boudoir duties with mother. She’d been such a busy little girl!
     I was now comfortable enough in my business duties, that I could enjoy the fruits of my mother’s labors and have a slavish sissy at my beck and call. I planned on asserting by dominance, in a very big way, immediately!
     She would of course wait on me, fix my hair, entertain me sexually and accompany me shopping, as would any female companion. Carrying mistress’s packages on a shopping trip was the way of a sissy! However, she was going to be met with routine discipline, whether she deserved it or not, just to know I was her supreme mistress!
     I was in the den reading, when my personal maid, Michelle, stood in the doorway, lightly knocked and announced that Isabelle was now ensconced in my wing of the house.
     “If she is properly prettied and dressed, have her report to me here, Michelle,” I smiled, as a smiling Michelle turned to go fetch my sissy.
       My sissy spouse looked quite splendid. I must admit, mother had truly outdone herself with this one. Isabelle stood demurely in the doorway. Michelle stood next to her at the ready.
       As Isabelle curtseyed to me, she greeted me with a very well-practiced, “My Lady. I am at your service, pleasure, beck and call. I am very eager to serve you My Madame.” She brushed her dark brown hair self consciously away from her face, and lowered her eyes submissively.
     I took in her appearance critically. She had extremely well-manicured nails. She was nice and slim, with pert, uplifted breasts. I wondered if those breasts were ersatz, or hormonally induced?
     She was in a pair of virginally, white three-inch heels with matching blouse and floppy bow at the neck. Her chin-length, dark-brown, bobbed hair was shiny from a recent shampoo and was rich with crimson highlighting. A tight, slimming, dark gray pencil skirt, encased plump bottom and her pretty legs.
     Her makeup was subtle but very effectively applied. I thought of a few changes I might make in her hair color and style, but there would be enough time for that later. Now was the time to exert my supreme dominance.
      She had a jeweled collar affixed around her slender neck. Presently I addressed Michelle. “That will be all at this time Michelle. I need to be alone with my sissy,” I smiled. Michelle excused herself and I instructed Isabelle to follow me to my suite of rooms.
     Once in my boudoir I seated myself and told Isabelle to remain standing. “I want you to show me how pretty you can walk. Mother told me you have become so, so feminine that you can be allowed to go without a plug, in your plump little behind,” I stated.
     I had her walk over to my wardrobe. Then I said, “Very nice. Now remove your blouse and walk back over to me.” Blushingly she did as instructed. Once she was standing in front of me, I smiled.
     “Now Isabelle, kneel, with your back to me so I can remove your brassiere. I want a look at your new tits,” I laughed. When she was standing before me again with those cute, little, perky, plump orbs, protruding from her chest, I motioned for her to sit on my lap.
      She seated herself carefully, but melted into me once I pulled her to me. I could sense her neediness. She snuggled up to me like a kitten. “Let me see your boobies. Oh my, they are nice. Now where did you get these?” I asked.
     “Mummy took me to her gynecologist. The doctor gave me injections. Mummy also had her maid give me massages with a plumping cream,” my sissy answered. I thought it was just so sissified that she was now calling my mother, “mummy.”
     “Let’s see if they react like real tits,” I said, taking one in my hand and putting it in my mouth. I began sucking. Isabelle gasped, swallowed hard, and closed her eyes in pure pleasure.
     “Oh yes, Madame. Oh please Madame. I love this, oh I love it!” Isabelle panted, as she squirmed. I had to admit I enjoyed this. To have my sissy spouse, panting like a bitch in heat, whilst I nibbled and nipped at his brand new sissy breasts, was priceless. I decided to test some of the talents mother had instilled in Isabelle.
      “Get the rest of your clothing off and get into my bed, you hot little slut. We are going to have a very interesting afternoon, together,” I hissed.
      I started her off, with her pretty mouth, between my thighs. “Use your lips, tongue and fingertips, girl. I want to see what you have learned and what you can do,” I ordered.
     She had learned well as she got right to work titillating my clitoris. I laid back to enjoy it. The frustrations and tenseness of the business world left my loins. The pleasurable sensations of oral sex, being performed by a submissive sissy, enveloped me.
     A sweet female performing the same ministrations is wonderful of course. However, there is always the thought in mind that I’ll soon need to pleasure her. However, the idea of giving a sissy any sort of pleasure is remote, if not, non-existent. If I choose to allow the sissy release of course I can and sometimes will.
    I felt my passion rising and decided to spur the sissy further on. I grabbed her hair, at the nape of her neck and pulled her face tightly against my groin. “Harder Isabelle. Don’t you dare stop! Suck, me, lick me, and bite me, sissy. Oh, good girl,” I shouted.
   I felt my sweet release coming and really let go, with a passionate gasp and low moan. I bucked my thighs in rhythm with my lust. My orgasm came in waves, and I thrashed about, shaking the bed. I lie still, panting, and told my sissy to rub my stomach as the spasms came and went.
     “Very good Isabelle. Come here and lie next to me,” I said as she crawled to me and buried her head against my shoulder. I heard her sob and asked the silly girl why she was crying?
     “I’m so happy I could please you Madame. I always want to please you,” she whined. I lifted her head and stared into her eyes intently.
     “Yes, and you will always please me from now on won’t you, Isabelle? You will keep yourself sweet, submissive, obedient and pretty for me. Yes. When you do, I might reward you as I will now. Get up. Kneel on the bed, with your torso upright. Hands together behind you back. Now girl, this moment!” I ordered.
     I tied her hands snugly with a scarf. I had her lie on her side while I pulled her panties off. I stood at the side of the bed, looking into her wide open eyes. She looked so gorgeously helpless with her hands tied up, still lying, in the fetal position. I wasn’t finished making her completely helpless, though. I tied another scarf around her ankles, equally snug. Then to make matters even more exciting, I looped a third scarf ‘tween the other two and effectively “hog-tied” my sissy princess!
     “Now what do we have here on the bedside table, Isabelle? A nice penis gag, just for you. Would you like to wear this and suck on it for a little while, Isabelle?” I asked lecherously.
     “Oh yes please Madame, I would love too!” Isabelle exclaimed. So, I fastened the gag on her and told her, “Start sucking, girl.”
     “Let us see, what else we have. Oh my, some nice minty gel lubricant. I’ll bet it gets warm when it’s rubbed on a body part, huh? Should I put some in your rectum or on your little sissy clit?” I asked, as her eyes grew even wider.
      I put a generous amount on my hands and began to rub it in. “Well I said this was going to be a reward of sorts, so I’ll massage your clit with it,” I smirked.
     Isabelle’s eyes grew about as wide as they could possibly have gotten. I can safely say I already had quite a bit of experience rubbing this same mint laced lube on the penis and balls of quite a few real men.
    These were quite manly men, with large cocks and nice balls that could fill a female’s puss with buckets of semen. In case you wondered, this minty gel could give even those men a nice “hot” experience where their genitals were concerned.
    So I could not imagine how a sissy like Isabelle would react when her sissy clit, and her little, bitty, bits, would be laced with the warming effect of my love potion. Of course I would soon find out, as I began massaging what Isabelle might have still considered a “penis.”
    Her reaction was even better than what I would have expected. Especially when I rubbed this heating cream on what passed as a set of balls on a sissy. To say the least Isabelle certainly appeared to be alarmed.
    She spluttered through the penis gag and squealed as loud as she possibly could. For someone who was supposed to be sucking a cock, she was making no sense. “I can’t understand you girl. By the way honey. Aren’t you supposed to be practicing giving a blow job? If you don’t start sucking for real, I’ll take you to a local pub this evening and find a real penis for you to put between your lovely lips,” I threatened.
    She squirmed about, as I am sure, her genitals were getting quite warm. They were also getting larger. Her little balls and her scrotal sac swelled, and even her penis became erect and satisfyingly hard. I was actually pleased.
   You see, a normal sized penis on a typical sissy, can be quite pleasurable. As long as the Mistress is atop the sissy, and the sissy lays still and passive while the mistress pleasures herself to no end.
    “Now Isabelle, you do realize dearest, that you cannot release any sperm until you have my permission? You do realize that dear? Don’t you my darling?” I questioned.
     She nodded in the affirmative, with her eyes watering profusely and squeezed tightly shut. I hummed a little tune, squishing her cock, between my hands and rolling it in my palms like so much rolled dough. I actually began to fear for her emotional well-being so I stopped and untied the scarf holding the other two together.
     Effectively removing the very symbolic “hog-tie.” Then to her surprise I removed the penis gag and assisted my helpless baby into an upright position, still on her knees of course.
    She was effectively stunned by my merciful act, and spluttered out, “Oh my dear Madame, you are so kind!” The drool and slobber from sucking on the rubber penis dripped from her lips, but I don’t think she minded.
    “Yes I am kind, Isabelle. So kind I am now ready to permit you some sexual release,” I smiled.
      I slowly stimulated her. She began the strangest gyrations. From her kneeling position, hands still tied behind her she started lightly bouncing on the bed and wiggling her butt.
     I increased the rapidity of my ministrations and she closed her eyes and began alternating between humming and sighing. Then, eyes still closed she let out a primal scream that had to have echoed down the hall.
     The scream coincided with a lovely spurt of her sissy cream. I was ready with her panties. “That’s it honey-pie. Get out all of that nasty male spunk. All your silly maleness is gone now baby. You’re my sissy. You’re my girly-girl,” I exhorted her.
      I thought it quite possible, my mother had allowed the sissy no sexual release whatsoever during her training period. So effectively this was likely the sum total of a few months sexual tensions coming to a head all at once.
     She began to sob and shake in almost a hysterical fashion. I let her get it out, commiserating with her. “That’s a good sissy girl Isabelle. Get all those sissy tears out. You’re a girl now honey. Madame’s girl. You need to cry like a real sissy, girly-girl,” I whispered.
     I removed the last of her bonds. Then handing her the cum-soaked panties I sent her off to her room to get cleaned up. “Be sure to pick out a nice sundress, for an early supper with mother on the veranda,” I instructed.


     Mistresses exert their dominance in many ways. One way, is complete control over simple decision making, such as the sissy’s appearance. Clearly, picking out the sissy’s hairstyle, deciding on things like body piercings, put the sissy in her place. This leaves no doubt that the sissy’s being belongs to the mistress.
        So, I thought another trip to the hair salon where “William” had once been employed was in order. I scheduled a few hours and told the owner, Celeste, an outline of my plans.
        Isabelle, upon learning of the appointment, attempted to beg off. “Madame, could we not attend another establishment? It will be such a humiliation,” she simpered.
        “By now, you should know that humiliation is part of being a kept sissy, Isabelle. Besides, you have been to Celeste’s dressed as a sissy before. Remember? You wanted to wear slacks, so mother and I put you in a nice pair of silver lame Capris,” I laughed.
        “They no longer think of you as ‘William’ or even ‘Miss William.’ To the ladies at Celeste’s you are just another sissy, undergoing a series of beauty treatments at your Madame’s bequest,” I added.
        I very, very carefully chose her outerwear that morning. After she dressed in her underthings I pointed to the bed. “There. Sheer seamless hose, with that short, flirty, pink poodle skirt. Your black, open toed, three inch strappy heels are at the foot of the bed. Now I only have to pick out a blouse for you,” I added.
       “Perfect,” I said, holding up a heavily ruffled, floral, pastel midriff blouse. “You are going to look simply exotic when we ladies are done with you today, my dear,” I laughed.
        “One last thing I said,” as I attached nice big, 3 inch diameter, hoop earrings in each earlobe. The “gypsy girl” effect the earrings and the ruffled midriff blouse gave her, had really only begun.
        We arrived at the salon and Isabelle was given over to a shampooer. The lady simply crooked her finger and said, “Follow me sissy.” I sat with Celeste and discussed further alterations.
        “I want her lips plump and bee-stung, darling. And the hair is just too prim. I want something unusual, for her in cut, style and color. Something a risqué young lady might have, but something that screams, I am a sissy! All at once.” I added.
         “Well you certainly seem to know what you want. I’ll have Daphne start on her lips after the shampoo and hot oil condition. We could add some permanent lip liner. Good? Great. You’d like that then,” Celeste smiled.
          “Now, look at this book of hair styles. Trust me. You won’t discern the sissy hair models from the real women. At least most people can’t. These styles you will find are freakish and exotic in every way,” added Celeste, handing me a style book.
           I flipped through the pages, slowly. On about the fifth page I knew I had found what I wanted for Isabelle. “This one. This model has to be a sissy. Even her eyes say she’s embarrassed by the way her hairdo will draw attention to her,” I said.
            “Yes, you are correct. If that is what you want your sissy’s hair to look like when she leaves here, that is the way it shall look, darling,” Celeste smiled.
            We walked over to where Isabelle was now getting her lips injected with a fattening chemical. “We put all the sissies in restraint before we even start the shampoos. Under her cape, Isabelle is wearing a belt that restrains her arms at her sides. We also have them drink a cup of hot tea, with an exotic herbal compound that mildly sedates them,” Celeste explained.
            Isabelle’s eyes were closed, and she winced slightly as Daphne applied the needle to her already fattening lips. Her hair was wrapped, turban style in a large, pink towel. Not far away, two salon employees were already mixing the coloring chemicals for the two-tone hair tinting I had picked out.
           Isabelle would be given a haircut before they applied the shades. Then she’d be given a relaxed perm. Just enough to add the necessary waves she’d need for the styling I’d chosen. I checked my slender Rolex. Isabelle would be in the clutches of these able salon ladies for some time.
          “Let’s do lunch Celeste? It has been much too long,” I added flirtatiously to my former, occasional lover.
         “Wouldn’t I love to honey?” Celeste smiled, taking my hand.


        Lunch over, Celeste and I strolled back to the salon, hand in hand. In this trendy, uptown district, no one would give two women kissing each other on the lips, a second look. Two women smiling at each other, holding hands was blasé.
        We were greeted by Daphne, the lady, who’d injected Isabelle’s lips. “There you two are. I hope you’ve been behaving. We have your sissy in the rear lounge area, entertaining the girls on break. She is doing modeling exercises for us,” Daphne laughed.
       Indeed, as I watched from the foyer of the lounge, Isabelle minced and sashayed like a little runway princess. Her self-consciousness, over her new look, really showed through.
       The girls had started her off with a new haircut. They’d cut her hair quite short in the back and shaven her neck quite cleanly. They had left a two inch strip a few inches long, in the middle portion, of the back of her head. They had left the top quite longish and full.
       Then they bleached and dyed, all the hair on top and the two inch strip down the back of her head a brilliant honey blonde shade. They had left the remainder of the short hair in the back and on both sides, auburn, with burgundy highlights.
        Then they had given the honey blonde hair a full body perm. They had used a pick comb to lift the hair on top into a high, pile of curls. The two inch strip down the back of her head, also permed, was brushed into sort of a ‘duck-tail’ style.
       Her shiny, hot pink nails had been extended and her now plump lips sported a shiny, hot pink gloss. Her eyes were dramatically made up with a soft kohl, burnt sienna shade. All of the permed curls atop her head had been wrapped together with a Gypsy scarf at her head’s crown.
       As she turned to sashay to the doorway, her large gypsy hoops dangling and swaying against her slender neck, she saw me and gasped out, “Oh Madame!”
       She had put her long outstretched fingers, daintily near her puckered lips. “You should continue to entertain the ladies, Isabelle, until they dismiss you,” I nodded. She blushed, curtseyed, and said, “Yes, my Madame, as you wish.”
       I had decided to luncheon at a predominantly lesbian bistro. We walked the few blocks. I glanced at Isabelle and I sensed her apprehension. I thought to myself that what she actually needed, so badly was a sexual encounter with a really strong, man’s man, type.
       One who would take her in hand, give her a good spanking on her bottom, make her suck his dick and that give her anus a well lubricated reaming. Once she experienced that to the point of exhaustion she would relax, and realize what being a dominated sissy really meant.
       I would need to work on that. I had a couple of candidates for the job. In the meantime while we lunched, I noticed plenty of females looking her way. I would imagine they wondered about the shy acting, hot looking chick with the gypsy look.
      “You are to go to your room when we get back to the mansion. I’ll be in shortly. Put on a nice baby doll set and sit on your bed. Leave your hair and makeup just as it is,” I ordered, shortly after our food came.
       On the drive back to the mansion I made Isabelle snuggle next to me in the front seat of my Mercedes. Upon our return she scurried off to her room. I went to mine and picked up what I would need for our afternoon sex session.
       Walking into her room, I found her idly and nervously sitting on her bed. I walked past her into her bathroom. I spent enough time in the bathroom to strip down to my blouse and fasten a six inch dildo on in front of me.
       I walked from the bathroom wearing the dildo and carrying a bottle of Aloe Vera, vitamin E, lubricant. Isabelle gasped as I told her to kneel on all fours on the bed.
        “Now, get your hands on the headboard,” I said, as I tied a cord to each wrist. Then I tied the other end of each cord to the bedposts. Pulling her baby doll bottoms off, I heard her simper.
       “Oh please Madame. Not that? Please?” Isabelle begged.
      “You need some loosening up princess. This is just a start of course. I want your personality to at least resemble, somewhat, the hot new look I have gotten you,” I said as I inserted two very well lubricated fingers into her anus. She jerked, involuntarily. I wanted her well lubed, so I lubed up the dildo. The dildo was hardly large, compared to a real man’s dick.
       I let her know, as I mounted her. “This is only six inches long, and it’s actually quite slender, compared to a real penis honey. Mommy is being nice to her good girl. So relax for me baby,” I added as I slowly probed her opening.
       I pushed slowly on the dildo and told her if she would push back to meet my thrusts it would go easier for her. Then I reached around to her crotch, grabbing her pubes. She stiffened then she relaxed.
     “That’s a girl. Oh my. Someone likes being touched on her clit.  Now push back baby. Yes. That’s it. Now feel mommy thrust. Good, now meet my thrusts evenly. Oh yes. You have the hang of it now,” I laughed.
      Indeed she did and it was making it fun for me. It was quite stimulating, just to be poking this sissy in her rump. The base of the dildo also had small probes that stimulated my clitoris.
      The hotter my sissy got from my fucking her and fingering her clit, the more she panted and begged me to fuck her harder. We were both heading for a nice orgasm. When it did happen, I of course came first, shuddering. At that moment I gave my helpless sissy permission to squirt.
      It was glorious. Of course Isabelle couldn’t fully collapse as her wrists being bound to the headboard of the bed prevented that from happening. I rolled over on my back, my rubber penis sticking up in the air.
      Isabelle, on the other hand, hung there helplessly, suspended by her bound wrists. I was too exhausted to unbind her for the moment. I checked, and noted she was still supported by her knees. I felt like napping. Oh well. I’d remove her from her restraints in due time.


     I didn’t go to the same hair salon where I usually took Isabelle. Ever since my sissy spouse had philandered, I decided only she would get treated to a trip to that salon. I frequented another salon, owned by a dear friend and managed by her top stylist, an Italian, male hairdresser named, Bruno.
     Bruno was a flirt, though I suspected he was more of a bisexual that a straight ladies’ man. It was rumored that Bruno catered to the mistresses of the sissy set. This was confirmed by my dear friend, the owner of the salon.
     “Monica, the next time you come to the salon, let Bruno know, that I approve of you looking in on one of the sessions we have with the sissies,” she smiled.
      So, I brought it up while Bruno was cutting, my hair. “Of course Ms. Monica. I would be honored to amuse you. I just hope you are not shocked,” he smiled.
      “Don’t worry Bruno, I won’t be shocked. Finish my blow dry and then you may entertain me,” I grinned.
        My hair was blown dry perfectly, just the way I liked it and Bruno escorted me to the rear of the salon and down a hallway. We stopped at a door and Bruno knocked lightly. “Come in,” a voice sang out.
        We entered to see a chicly attired female pin-curling the hair of what I assumed was a sissy. The stylist smiled at us and gave us a finger wave. Then she said, “Well hello Bruno. Did you come to visit with Prissy? I’ll bet Prissy, is glad to see you? Aren’t you Prissy?”
         The stylist said this as she pinched the alarmed sissy’s cheek. I was certain the sissy was bound tightly to the salon chair, but her cape obscured much of her body. I did see her ankles were tied together tightly just above her high heels.
          She had been effectively silenced with a bright red, ball gag. Most interesting was the manner in which her head and wrists were secured. Her wrists were locked into one end of an apparatus that resembled a modified and abbreviated version of a 17th century “stock”.
          One end was fastened to her wrists, and the other was clamped around her neck like a collar. This forced her hands to be held in front of her, at shoulder bonds at her ankles and height, in an almost “begging” posture.
         The end clasped at her neck made her assume a rigid posture as her hands and neck had to move in unison. The stylist finished pin-curling the sissy’s hair and placed a plastic bonnet over her set curls.
         “Did you need some quality time with Prissy, before I put her under the dryer Bruno?” The stylist asked.
          “Yes, why don’t you have a seat with Miss Monica? Monica I’d like you to meet, Carlotta. Carlotta, I’m going to show Miss Monica, one of the special services I provide for sissies,” Bruno stated.
           “Prissy, have you been a good girl? Your Mistress tells me you hesitated to suck her boyfriend’s cock? Now should I spank you in front of the ladies?” Bruno asked as her removed Prissy’s ball gag, and loosened her bonds at her ankles and under her cape.
           “Please, Master Bruno sir, don’t hurt me or shame me in front of these ladies? I beg of you Master, sir?” Prissy sobbed as Bruno helped her from the chair.
           “Well I’ve decided not to beat you on your sissy bottom, but shame or not, you are going to suck my cock in front of these ladies as a lesson to you,” Bruno insisted as he pushed the helpless sissy to her knees and pulled his penis from his trousers.
      “Now wrap your dainty fingers around my penis, Prissy, and let’s guide my big, fat, cock in between your pretty lips. That’s a girl and don’t forget to swallow every last drop,” he smiled.
       The sobbing, nearly hysterical sissy, meekly complied. I was quite excited by all this and looked over at Carlotta, and wasn’t surprised at all that she was lying back against her chair, with her fingers inside her tight shorts, rubbing her clit.
       I decided to sit back relax and watch the show myself.

End of Part II. Stay tuned for Part III!

5 comments:

  1. This is a sad story. That woman is so cruel to her husband. She says he cheated on her and we dont see it. It isnt written into the story. We sympathize with his suffering. He may have cheated but her cruelty is just over the line. I hope he can escape, but with this author writing it, that isnt likely. Most of her stories end with the feminized guy happy and content with his life in the end. But the level of cruelty in this one, I dont see how that ending is likely so I wonder how it will end.

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  2. I like the story. A lot. Look forward to more surgical changes. Forced changes.

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    1. I'm also enjoying the story a lot myself.

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  3. I enjoy Pricilla's stories for the graphic details in the bondage, discipline, sex, and especially the clothing and beauty treatments. This one does not disappoint.

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    1. Like I have told Priscilla, it is hard to read this story using only one hand!

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