They'd picked out a name. They would have fun with it. Have me do the honors in the beauty department.
The first time I went there I protested on the way home.
In the two weeks since my deflowering, Mary Ellen had even outdone my beloved governess Marie. Her sissy husband had been an apt pupil.
She was wearing what I now know to be called, a French, informal dinner serving uniform. French, as in French maid. The uniform can also be worn afternoons for more formal teas. It's complicated, but women like Phyllis and Mary can be very precise with their "girl's" appearance.
Of course, I felt insulted. Worse yet Sylvia was made to curtsy to everyone, which included me. She also called me Mr. Terri and also sir, as in "yes sir."
She hardly blushed. Was maybe, slightly embarrassed. Had prepared a beautiful dinner, and served it wonderfully.
Riding home I made a huge mistake. "I will not be a party to this, Phyllis. Don't ever ask me to visit them again."
She laughed. That was it. For about five minutes the silence was frightful. Then she turned to me with a grin and said, "Terri, I have a big surprise for you. When I give it to you, you won't know what's happening."
I had no idea what she meant, but it scared me. I got the surprise that evening at bedtime.
I was naked, looking at my hairless body and painted toenails,thinking that this had gone far enough. Phyllis came through the door in full riding regalia. Black dress boots, matching belt, with fawn colored slacks. White turtleneck blouse. Her hair tied back at the nape of her neck with a small white ribbon, bunched in the traditional black hair net.
She tossed her riding crop and some scarves on the floor near the side of the bed and tackled me. She brought me to the floor, laughing to herself as she did so.
"Surprise Celeste," she shouted. "Wait until you see how Nanny Phyllis punishes you."
It didn't take me long to figure what she had in mind, nor did it take her long to accomplish it.
Lying on the floor my hands tied behind my back, ankles tied together and attached to the one leg of the four poster bed, I realized how absolutely helpless I was. My butt was elevated by two big fluffy pillows.
"Okay Celeste. Unless you want to wind up like Sylvia, you're going to obey. As long as you obey, you can publicly be Terri. Beginning next week, every Monday afternoon you will be at Mary Ellen's to teach Sylvia beauty techniques and to prettify her. Teach her well enough, and she can start doing my hair as well as Mary's. Okay?' she asked as she gave me a shot with the crop.
I shrieked a "Yes!"
"Good. Now for you. You'll continue this shaving and nail care program I have you on. You'll sleep in nightgowns, and start using a clear polish on your fingers. Got that?" This was followed by another whack, a loud shriek, and another confirmation on my part.
For another five minutes she laid down some more rules concerning my dress, duties and lifestyle, all followed by a smack by the crop. She included my ridding myself of all male underwear and purchasing a dozen or so pairs of assorted panties.
"Make sure you buy them at Mimi's Maison. She has the best quality and a really fine selection of the frilliest stuff. I really don't care what you tell her. For all she knows your buying them for me. They had better be extra frilly though. If they're not, I'll take you back there and make you tell everyone who they really are for," she threatened adding another whack.
Once she was satisfied she unbound me and I cried my apology out on her shoulder. As I sometimes had done, with my governess, I went to the bathroom to prettify myself for yet another session in bed. I'd already been deflowered, so this time it was less uncomfortable. The following Monday, I appeared at Mary's to begin my tutoring
of Sylvia.
The first visit had been a bit stressful for me, but with each one I would grow to accept Sylvia's increasing feminine persona.
Upon that first visit I had shown her some make up techniques, using Mary as a model. The next session nail care, followed by yet another on hair care.
Still, I was reluctant to accept her transformation fully, thus the mild protest on the phone with Phyllis. I paid that evening. She again surprised me at bedtime. That was my last protest as far as Sylvia's transformation was concerned.
On this, what would prove to be the most significant occasion, Mary let me in. My wife had already arrived earlier in the day. Mary seemed very excited.
"Oh Terri, do come in. Set in the living room. Sylvia is almost ready. You should see her. She's been practicing all week. She really has done well. She can't wait for you to see her," she gushed as if she were the proud mother of a young teen daughter.
Wearing a navy blue pleated knee length skirt with a white peasant blouse she had a schoolgirl look about her. A white kerchief was tied "sailor girl" style at her neck. Her sheer hose and three-inch black court shoes set off her legs, and her pierced ears looked lovely, sporting pearl studs.
It was her hair and cosmetic application that really impressed me.
Her beautifully tapered nails were coated with a delightfully youthful shade of Candy Apple Red. Her facial make up was an extravagant blend of seasonal spring shades. Peach blush, over a mixture of beige foundation and translucent pink powder. Her eyes had just a touch of light brown mascara, with a blend of babyish pink and Bermuda Coral shadow. The delicate arch of her plucked and lightly penciled brows accented her innocence.
This look would not have been complete without the Candied Red lip liner and lipstick blended with a shiny gloss. Her tame, tasteful, French rolled coiffure made her appear a well-bred coed, at a sorority soiree.
As she curtseyed primly, Mary Ellen first encouraged her to twirl for everyone, and then do a brief promenade around the large den/family room area.
"My goodness Mary! This progress is impressive! Not much for me to do today is there?" I said, hoping everyone would agree.
"Well, she's been so good this week I asked her what she'd like to do today. Ask Mr. Terri if you and he can play beauty salon sweetie," Mary Ellen suggested.
I interjected, "Could I ask a favor here? Would it be possible for Sylvia to call me Terri, and drop the Mister?"
"Of course. Sylvia Beth. From now on, you may refer to our hairdresser friend as Terri. Okay?" Mary asked, as if she were speaking to an immature 16-year-old girl.
Sylvia nodded and then I asked suspiciously, "What's this about playing 'Beauty Salon'."
Mary Ellen explained, "We all thought this would be a good time for Sylvia to start to learn to do someone else's hair, make up, nail's. You know."
Then Phyllis continued, "First she could work on you, with you describing what to do. Right now Mary and I are completing some specs on a job we're doing together. By the time Sylvie is done with your make over, the both of you can do Mary Ellen and I. You of course would instruct. Good idea. Huh?"
"Well. I guess it would be okay. Though I don't want to make a habit of getting makeovers," I joked.
Everyone laughed. Then Sylvie took my hand and I followed her into the specially designed "Beauty and Relaxation Room" that Mary Ellen and Phyllis were so proud of.
Mary Ellen had purchased this home because of its great size, secluded location, and its reasonable price. She also liked most of the layout and design. The exception to this was the huge, four-car attached garage and storage area. In her opinion it was "hideous." Looking things over, she and Phyllis noted the multitude of electrical outlets and the vast amount of unused space. It had also been roughed in with plumbing connections.
They had decided to design an area where they and their friends could come to relax, chat, have coffee or tea, and be pampered by none other then me. They would also be free from the bustle of a busy salon.
The room was elegantly furnished, had a sitting area, a sauna, hot tub, lounge, and a dressing and change room. The center of activity was of course the salon which included two professional dryers, three shampoo and coloring sinks, a curtained area, with table for massage and waxing, plus two fully equipped styling stations with wrap around, mirrored vanities.
I'd spent lots of time working here. I was about to have my first session as a model of sorts.
"You two have fun now," Mary Ellen called as we entered the room.
"Terri, could you help me get some stuff in the dressing room?" Sylvia asked.
I followed her in and she handed me three, generic, charcoal gray colored, plastic, salon style capes. She then put on a hot pink satin, knee length, stylist's smock. I'd never seen any smock like it. It was a print, with small white flowers and little baby blue birds all over it. I looked around for the plain navy blue one I usually wore and regretted I didn't see it.
I suspected that once my treatment was done I'd be expected to wear a smock identical to Sylvia's. My suspicions were soon confirmed as she took a matching smock off a hanger, smiled at me, and said, "Well Terri, let's get started."
Following her back into the beauty room, I saw her attire in its fully frilled, feminine glory.
The robe as I should describe it, was trimmed with lace at the collar, cuffs, and hem. It looked like a dress. Though it had pearl buttons down the front, to the waist, it also had a sash belt, where the buttons ended. Sylvia had tied her sash at the side in a big bow.
She took no time at all to get a cape on me and begin my shampoo, condition and cream rinse. She had a wonderful touch for this process. I felt relaxed in her hands and comfortable. She wouldn't be giving me a cutting. She wasn't skilled enough, but she was going to set my hair.
I wouldn't have to teach her to cut hair. Just the other stuff. Most of these ladies had their own personal hair salon and stylist they visited for their cuttings.
She had really learned to roll hair. Tightly, I might add. Once she rolled me up, she placed a hair net on me and began to do my nails.
"Don't you want me to get under a dryer," I asked.
"No silly. Phyllis told me to give you a wet set. We'll let it dry naturally." She smiled.
That was going to take some time, which meant, I'd probably still have the curlers in when we did our wives' hair.
She did my make up identical to hers, saying, "I'm used to working with these shades, I've practiced with them all week." The shades looked less pronounced with my dark brown hair versus her sandy blond, but I thought she used a bit more cosmetics on me.
Sure enough, the women waltzed in about five minutes before she finished applying the "White Pearl" polish to my nails.
"Oh my goodness Mary Ellen, do these two look adorable together, or what!?" Phyllis exclaimed.
"I'll say. I can't wait for Terri to get his smock on. He'll just look so chic." Mary added.
With no protest at all I let Sylvia assist me in donning the smock.Much to my chagrin, she tied my bow in the back. Facing the mirror I could see the ends. I was quite the sight.
Full make up, gleaming red lips, hair net and bright blue plastic rollers. Nails glistening like pearls. I'd been doing them enough, and letting them grow, so that with the now pointed tips, my small hands appeared to belong to a female. I was crushed. With some clip on earrings, I'd be the picture of the society debutante, prepping herself, prior to her coming out party.
For the next couple of hours Sylvia and I washed hair, did nails and applied make up.
Once our wives were combed out, Sylvie and her spouse excused themselves to make a light dinner. Noticing my glum look, Phyllis inquired what was the matter.
"I just feel so silly looking like this dear," I whined, nearly in tears.
"Oh, I'd forgotten, you're the only one not combed out, I'll go get Sylvia." She said getting up.
"No, I don't mean that. I mean this whole get up. It's so garish," I complained.
She stood back from me taking me in, finally saying, "The only thing garish are the men's slacks and shoes you're wearing. With a comb out, a skirt and blouse, a little jewelry, some padding up top.... I'd say you would look just fine." She paused and then added, "I also believe it would bring a smile to your very pretty face."
"Please Phyllis, don't dress me in front of our friends?" I practically begged, the tears beginning to form.
Then, from the doorway, I heard the sweet voice of my dear friend Sylvia saying softly, "Don't cry Celeste, Mary Ellen and I know everything. We're here to help you, if you need us."
I watched Sylvia Beth, in the mirror, walk towards me and stand beside me, and take my hand.
Phyllis smiled, turned and left the room with Mary Ellen, closing the door behind them saying, "Talk with your new girlfriend Celeste, she'll explain everything."
No explaining was needed. I followed her into the change room, where she produced a cute little green plaid jumper, and white blouse with Peter Pan collar. Dark pantyhose followed. Before I put the jumper on she helped me into a waist cinch. She tightened it just enough to produce a defined waistline. Three-inch pumps maybe a half size too small were shoe horned onto my feet.
The coup de grace was the bra and the breast pads. It had been some time since I'd had a feminine chest.
Clip on earrings completed the ensemble, then to the vanity to sit for my styling.
My still damp hair was blown dry into a nice style of big bouncy curls, and sprayed to hold for a while. Perfume, and I was ready for my debut.
I entered the kitchen to polite applause, smiles and hugs. Sylvia and I then began to set the dining room table. Once the meal was ready we sat down to eat.
The best part of the evening for me began after Sylvia and I had cleaned things up and served coffee.
The coffee finished, I sat down next to Phyllis, who pulled me close to her. We snuggled as she continued her conversation with Mary.
Sylvie came in and went right to Mary who pulled her down on her lap. Sylvia's arms went girlishly around Mary. Sylvie looked back and winked at me as Phyllis smiled and lightly fondled my thigh.
It was then I wondered how long this peaceful moment would last. I wanted it to last longer then the night. I truly wanted to be a wife full time. I had no doubts. I welcomed my entire transformation. Not just "play" at it. A real wife. For Phyllis. Just as Sylvia was for Mary Ellen.
For the next two days I was a content housewife, full time, until returning to work on Thursday. My schedule, at the salon had been part time for a while, as Phyllis' business had grown. She'd needed me more at the house. I now worked Thursdays and Fridays, 9 to 7. That was all, but it was too much.
So for the two days after my true "coming out" at Mary and Sylvia's, I had taken advantage of my time off. I spent the entire time as Celeste, wanting to prove to Phyllis I could perform the job of full time wife, to her complete satisfaction.
When she arrived from worked the house was spotless, her meal ready, and I, her wife, was looking and acting as seductive and sexy as possible.
As I readied myself for work both Thursday and Friday, I dreaded ever having to be Terri again. Friday evening in bed I cried to Phyllis, begging her to let me be "her Celeste" always.
She laughed, "Let you? You are a featherbrain, aren't you little girl? I demand you be my wife!" she said with mock firmness. "Why on earth you didn't give two weeks notice first thing yesterday I don't know?" She picked up the bedside phone and dialed.
Smiling, she spoke into the receiver, "Michele? Hi sweetheart. Your niece Candy? The one who just moved in with you from Chicago? You should be able to hire her full time now, instead of part time. You now have an opening. That's right honey, she just resigned her position."
Phyllis laughed and listened for a time and then said, "Thanks for everything. Sure she'll come in for some appointments. Her and Sylvia." Then looking at me and smiling, "They had better. Mary and I want them looking really hot."
She listened for a short time longer, then closed with, "Thanks again for everything. Good luck with Bobbie. Let me know if you need anything. Priscilla Claire? That's a lovely name! She exclaimed. "Wish I'd thought of it. I'm jealous."
Another short pause and, "Reddish blonde? Perfect. I'd say really tight skirts would be in order too. She's going to look so good, typing up your invoices for you, regardless, Michele. Bye dear."
Putting the phone down she rolled over on top of me, pinning my arms to the bed and smiling, "Let's celebrate your new job Celeste honey."
Epilogue
It was a quiet Saturday morning in the spring. I heard a light knock on my bedroom door. I turned over and looked for Phyllis and remembered she wasn't there. She was in her room or Mary Ellen's.
It was Sylvia peeking in, smiling. "Get up sleepy head. It's Saturday. We serve breakfast in bed. Remember? Don't forget to wear taffeta," she reminded me.
I showered the night before and slept in my cinch. My hair was up in rollers. It didn't take me long to dress or make up. I did it all the time now. Checked my nails. Perfect. Sylvia and I were at Michele's yesterday. That cute, former shampoo boy Dani did our nails.
Only he's not Dani any longer, nor will he ever be again. Carlotta. Perfect name for some one with jet-black, really curly, heavily jelled hair. Those dark smoldering eyes and that beauty mark. Lucky girl!
"What time did they get in?" Sylvia asked. "I fell off to sleep at eleven."
"Midnight," I answered plainly, the disappointment showing in my voice.
Naturally, Sylvie asked me, "So yours didn't come for you either?" "No, but I had my velvet collar on just in case. She always brings my leash when she does come. I wonder whose room they're in?" I said as I walked away to check.
I hit it on the first try. The new house is large, but not gigantic. They were in Mary Ellen's.
"Come in," Mary Ellen called as I lightly knocked.
I entered, gave a polite curtsy, and asked, "What time would you ladies like to have breakfast?"
Mary Ellen was deep in thought. The straps on her bright red negligee were off her shoulders, her negligee pulled down below her breasts. Phyllis, completely ignoring me, had one of those beautiful, creamy white breasts in her crimson, mouth, biting it softly and occasionally sucking it with her lips.
Mary sighed, "We'll eat in an hour. No, make that an hour and a half," she smiled, both beautiful women going underneath the covers.
I closed the door, went back to the kitchen, looked at the clock.
Sylvia asked, "What do they want for breakfast?"
"The usual," I said. "Though not until 10:30," I added with a wink.
"I guess we may as well do some ironing then." Sylvia replied, knowing full well what's going on. Then she added, "Do you think you'll have time to color my hair Monday? I'd like to go strawberry blonde."
I smiled and said, "You'll look great!" Then I added, "When I went reddish blonde, Phyllis couldn't keep her hands off me. Look out!"
We smiled at one another and laughed. Whenever they did want us we were ready. Of course breakfast would be served promptly at ten thirty. Sylvia and I were quite content--thrilled to be best sissy girl friends and at our wives' beck and call.
The End
[Don't forget to choose the man you think makes the prettier girl (details here)!]
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