Sunday, February 23, 2014

On the Couch, Part Three


"Kiss me, Martha," I commanded once again, and I saw the shift in personality and bearing that meant my submissive lesbian lover was back in control of Martin/Martha's body. Once again, we clung to each other in deep Sapphic passion.

I broke our embrace to announce, "Martha, you need a new wardrobe--come with me to the mall!"


Our mall trip was extremely successful, I'm happy to say. Martha came away with a full wardrobe of ultra-feminine clothes, everything from lingerie to evening gowns. The emphasis was on sex: sheer nylons, five-inch heels, tight clingy fabrics, low-cut bodices and miniskirts. The outfits were kept in a special closet in my office, so that each time Martin arrived for a session he could be transformed into Martha without further ado.

Those sessions also continued to be great successes. With each hour under my control, his Martha persona became more and more feminine, more and more devoted to me, exactly as I planned. There was only one thing that, as a psychiatrist, concerned me. And, one weekend, it happened.

It was about two a.m. Susan and I had just finished a most satisfying lovemaking session. I was still dressed in my black lingerie and silk hose, Susan in her pink babydolls. There was a buzz from the doorbell.

"Who could it possibly be at this hour?" Sue asked.

I slipped into my six-inch heels and threw on my black lace peignoir to answer the door. I looked through the peephole and there, in all her sexiest, feminine glory, was Martha! I had not ordered her to appear that night, believing I had to allow her some time to continue to live as Martin.

I unlatched the door and allowed her in. "Mistress Verna, I am here as you ordered." At first I was confused--I hadn't ordered any such thing. Then I realized--Martin's unconscious had tapped into my posthypnotic commands while unconscious had forced him, even while sleeping, to follow my commands.

I ordered Martha to sit and said, "On the couch, Martin." He fell into his usual trance. "Martha, I want you to tell me what you dreamed this evening."

"Yes, Mistress Verna," she replied, and began her tale:

I was in my office, filling out the monthly reports, when you walked through the door. You looked me straight in the eye and said, "On the couch, Martin." When you were satisfied that I had fallen into a trance, you summoned Martha with the usual command, 'Martha, kiss me.'

"You then threw open the coat closet in my office and I was shocked to discover, not my usual suit jacket and overcoat, but a full wardrobe of women's clothes. You selected a tight leather miniskirt and a red satin blouse for me to wear, along with the proper lingerie. I dressed and followed you out of the office as ordered.

"Naturally, all my co-workers were there, and they all applauded as you led me in my female finery through the outer office and out to the elevators. I hung my head in shame--but secretly, my cock rose in excitement at the humiliation.

"When we reached the lobby, you issued another command: 'Martha, when you awake, you will dress as you are now and go to Mistress Verna.'

"Then I woke up, dressed and came here as ordered."

This added a new twist to my relationship with Martin/Martha. Obviously, his unconscious mind so wanted to live as the crossdressed Martha, a slave to my sexual whims, that it was forcing him into these situations even without my aid.

The next morning, I ordered Martin, now back to his male self, to quit his job and begin preparations to move in with Susan and me. This delighted Susan no end--no longer would she be alone at my tender mercies and there would be a male for her to dominate as well.

A month later, the three of us--Susan, a now nearly constantly female Martha and I--were comfortably ensconced in our apartment. I was in my usual black lingerie, Susan in her pretty pink, and Martha was neatly dressed as a maid, serving us drinks while I went through the mail.

Martha reveled in the humiliation of her maid's uniform: tight black satin minidress over a corset mercilessly laced to a mere 20 inches; four layers of starched white petticoats; black lacy panties;black silk stockings; and six-inch black patent-leather pumps. I delighted in reaching up under her skirt and petticoats to stroke her tumescent cock or finger her ass.

At any rate, as I said, I was going through the mail when I came across anote from my old friend Mistress Angela. "Susan," I exclaimed, "it's an invitation to a party at Mistress Angela's house."

"Lovely!" she replied. "Mistress Angela's parties are always such fun. What's the theme?"

I studied the invitation. "Twins," I told her. "She wants everyone to come as look-alikes of some kind."

"But Verna, honey, we could never pass as sisters, let alone twins--what will we do?"

"Stand up, Martha. You too, Susan," I ordered. I studied my two little submissives, both looking extremely feminine--though in one case that was completely a false image. They were nearly identical in height and in build, thanks to the extreme diet regimen I had placed Martha on when she moved in. "The twins will be you and Martha, Susan. In fact, I think it's time to bring back the Blonde Bondage Bimbo--times two."

Susan pouted--it was attractively childish, but I was in no mood for it. I knew she hated that particular masquerade, but it was perfect for the party, especially with Martha along for the ride. "That's enough of that, Susan," I demanded. "Bondage Bimbos you both will be. I have spoken!"

The party was in two weeks and there were lots of preparations to be made. First, I would have to acquire a duplicate of Susan's Bimbo costume for Martha. Then I had to make an appointment for them both at Mistress Margaret's beauty salon for the afternoon of the party. Many of Mistress Angela's crowd also frequented Margaret's establishment, so I had to make sure I got my bid for time in early. I was successful--soon the transformations would begin.

In the time between the invitation's arrival and the party, Susan became more and more recalcitrant about appearing as her half of the Bimbo twins. Obviously, her time as a dominant over Martha was making her resent her submission to me. I would have to fix that--and I knew exactly how: If I could hypnotize Martin into becoming Martha, I could certainly entrance Susan and force her into a Bimbo frame of mind.

At last the big day arrived. Susan, still pouting and protesting, and Martha were herded to the car and we drove to Margaret's salon. As we entered, I could see that I had been wise in making the appointment well in advance. The place was swamped with Angela's friends, all overseeing the beautifications of their slaves--many of them, like Martha, transformed men. I waved to my good friend Jennifer. I had taught her hypnosis and she had used it to turn her boyfriend Daniel into Sissy Dani...and then aided many other friends in transforming their lovers and relatives. Most of them would attend Angela's party tonight.

I did not want this crowd of submissives to see Susan put up a fuss (I had a reputation to maintain), so I turned to her and announced, "Susan, you're a submissive bimbo!"

The shocked little thing was able to gasp out "Huh?" before her eyes glazed over and I knew my hypnotic spell had taken over. The little dear never realized the music we had listened to over the past few nights had been "spiked" with subliminal messages that had prepared her for this moment. Leaving her entranced for the time being, I turned to Martha.

"Martha, honey, this is your first time in a real beauty parlor and I want you to enjoy all the submission and humiliation it will bring you. Therefore--come back, Martin, darling." Those were the code words that brought the long forgotten Martin persona back to the fore in Martha's mind. I saw a new light dawn in her eyes, as Martin realized all he had been through in the past six months; I also watched the bulge grow under his skirt as the embarrassment of his new life brought him to sexual excitement.

"M-must I go through with this?" he asked quietly.

"Of course, you must, Martin--you want to continue as my subject and servant, don't you?" I responded. I knew the answer, as he dropped his gaze to the floor in abject subjugation to my will. My psychiatric sessions with him had confirmed that this was his most deep-seated and desired wish; even without my hypnotic control, once having experienced his crossdressing fantasy, he could no longer resist the lure of this sexual adventure.

I turned my two hypnotized slaves over to Margaret and her staff. Their task was to use all their cosmetic arts to transform them into twins--or at least look-alike sisters.

The tougher job being Martha, Margaret took the TV on herself. The first step was to bleach and dye Martha's brown hair to a golden blonde that matched Susan's natural color. Martin watched in shock--and secret delight--as he saw his shoulder-length hair turned, first, the color of straw and then brought to a bright yellow with sexy streaks. Margaret and her assistant Caroline then began working to create identical Bimbo hairdos on Martha and Susan. The final effect was a teased flurry of curls--a hairdo that would only be worn by a woman attempting to attract sex and who had no distractions in her life from keeping herself sexually attractive.

Next came the cosmetics. Smoky eyeshadows, dark mascara and false eyelashes put a sleepy, bed-room eye look onto my two darlings, while artful blusher and lipstick applications made them look as much like twins as any two people who were unrelated ever could.

Now it was my turn to take over. I herded Martha and Susan into the rear dressing room and began their final change into the Bondage Bimbos. First I produced a hypodermic filled with a very special liquid. "You know Busty Barbie, don't you my dears?" I teased, referring to the transvestized slave of my friend Maria. "Well, this is the concoction that first swelled her boobs to their current dimensions. Without recurring applications, it won't last long--but you'll both be bouncing beauties for the evening."

Susan, having already had the Bimbo persona impressed upon her by my earlier commands, was overjoyed at the thought of being so endowed, but Martha was shocked. Still, my control was complete, so she meekly submitted as I injected a double dose of the preparation into each of her breasts. Then I turned to Susan and gave her a single dose in each of her mounds. The effect was soon apparent...and within an hour, each had a lovely pair of size 37C boobs.

The next step was the clothes. With the assistance of one of Margaret's staff members, I laced both of the little dears into white leather corsets, reducing their waists to a mere 20 inches. This only made their bouncing boobs, spilling over the cups of the corsets, that much more obvious, of course. Next, we drew white lace-patterned stockings up their legs, attching them tightly to the straining garters of the corsets. The stockings were followed by white patent-leather pumps with six-inch heels. White leather miniskirts, matching their corsets, were the last piece of clothing put on them.

Their accessories included white satin choker ribbons and white satin bows in the back of their hair.

It was time now to impress the Bimbo persona on Martha. "Kiss me, Martha," I commanded. Instantly, my little TV slave pressed her lips to mine and Martha's personality replaced Martin's. "Martha, until I say otherwise, you will have only three topics of conversation: yourself, your companion's attractiveness, and sex--especially bondage sex. You will flaunt yourself to any and all who seem interested. You are Bimbo--without a thought in your head except where your next sexual thrill is coming from."

That completed, I put them in matching bondage--white leather bondage glove, locking their arms together behind their backs (and thus further displaying their boobs) and silver chains locking their ankles together, restricting their strides to a mere six inches. The resulting mincing walk caused a most delicious jiggle all over their bodies. The final touch was a locking ball gag in each mouth--they would speak, if at all, when I wished.

"All right, ladies--and there's a misstatement, if I ever heard one--it's off to Mistress Angela's party."

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