August in the Northeast U.S. is usually damned unpleasant. It is too late in the summer for any plants or foliage to be really green or sweet smelling, but neither is it autumn with its cool blustery breezes and its bright flashes of fall color. Haze, heat and humidity had hit Boston (and me) like a sultry hammer, and I was drained. I had just spent four grueling days representing Monique at a hotel managers' workshop at the Boston flagship hotel because Monique had needed to cancel out on this trip at the last minute. There had been some major foul up back at the home office and she had sent me in her stead. As could easily be predicted, several of the managers had not been exactly overjoyed to discover that the meeting was being chaired by a non-executive and had done their level best, quite successfully, to make the week exhausting and exasperating.
The capping exclamation point to this week from hell came in the form of Monique's original travel itinerary that I naturally was given at the last minute, too. She had planned to spend Saturday in Boston, shopping with some friends, and had scheduled her return flight home for late Saturday evening. Naturally, given that I really wanted to go home, seats on any earlier flights back to Washington were simply unavailable.
So, here I was, on a Friday night, stuck in Boston, feeling very alone and very unhappy about it. I considered calling an old friend from my Annapolis days, but it was already past nine pm. Even if we could get together, I was too tired to be much company. I would call him next time. I finally fell asleep watching some trash sport on the television.
The insistent electronic bleating of a modern telephone awoke me at seven am on Saturday. I answered before I realized that I had not put in a wake up call request with the front desk. Needless to say, I was somewhat surprised when I got silence instead of the computer generated wake up greeting. Finally, I heard a questioning voice. "Nathan? Are you there?"
Monique, calling me at this hour? "Yes, Monique." I answered warily. "I thought for a moment that I had inadvertently put in a wake up."
Her womanly chuckle whispered in my ear. "Oh, this is a wake up, Mr. Evans. I think you will be wide awake after this day." Her tone was sardonically amused. "Mr. Evans!" The voice on the other end became sharp. "This is Mistress Monique."
Oh shit. I should have known this was a set up. Unable to get earlier reservations out, my ass. I wondered if Roselie even tried. "Yes, Mistress, how may I serve you?"
"Mr. Evans, at precisely 7:45, a car will be waiting for you at the lobby entrance. You are to be checked out of your room and have your luggage with you. You will go with the driver and obey School Mistress Maria as you do me."
"Yes, Mistress." I looked at my watch - 7:08. Good thing I was already packed and had express checkout.
Her voice became softer again. "Very good, Mr. Evans. It should not be necessary, but I will reassure you that Maria knows and will respect your limits, and your safeword." I sighed in relief. "Have fun, Mr. Evans. At least try. I quite enjoy these games. It would be well for you if you could find some pleasure in them, too. Good bye, Mr. Evans." The phone clicked off in my ear.
Twenty years of Navy life teaches many lessons including how to move out in a hurry. I was shaved, showered and in the lobby, checked out and on edge, by 7:38. At least she had let me get a decent night's sleep. If she had called earlier, I would have not slept.
The car was on time. A tall, dark haired woman in a tailored skirt, white blouse, and chauffeur's hat was driving. After identifying myself to her, she opened the trunk for my luggage, and then the car's rear door for me. The bellboy loaded my bags, and off we sped off into the early morning insanity that is Boston traffic.
The company's Boston Flagship hotel is out near Logan International Airport on the eastern side of the city and the traffic in that area of Boston is always crazy, weekend or not. She headed for the center of downtown, maneuvering the large limo into spaces in the traffic so tight I cringed against expected collisions. She did not say a word during the entire trip. I could have used the distraction to take my mind off my imminent fiery death on the highway.
We turned off the central artery and onto Massachusetts Avenue and then onto Newbury Street. For those of you unfamiliar with downtown Boston, Newbury Street is the "Rodeo Drive" of Boston. From Massachusetts Avenue on one end, to its termination at the entrance to the Boston Commons Park, Newbury Street is lined with individual, but connected row houses that are home to high profile, expensive little shops. The limo came to an abrupt halt in front of one such shop (double parking naturally, this was Boston). An elegantly scripted sign painted onto the large plate glass picture window identified this establishment as "Chez Maria. By appointment and referral only."
My driver turned around in her seat to face me, speaking for the first time. Her voice was low and husky, and I had to strain to hear her over the noise of Boston waking up. "This is where you go in, sir. You don't need to worry about your luggage. That will be taken care of for you when you are ready to leave." After thanking her, I was out the door before I could question what I was about and leave. I was halfway up the stairs before I wondered if a tip was required, but the car was already fighting its way back into the traffic.
I stopped at the massive, black painted threshold and took a deep breath. Monique had promised that my safeword would be honored. Whatever she had planned for me, at least that protection was in place. But, this was not Monique inside waiting for me. The extra something I had with Monique, the something that supported me in these games of hers, would not be there for me inside that menacingly black door. I ruefully acknowledged that I just might need the safeword and that, this time, I would use it early enough to protect myself. I hoped Monique would understand.
The door bell was an old style rope pull design. Through the door I could hear the crystal clear notes of a well tuned chime. The door was opened by a slim, attractive woman who I guessed to be in her early to mid forties. Her hair was blond, going ash, and her eyes were chocolate brown with the soft lines and creases around them that usually mean a ready grin and laugh. She was of medium height and smiled pleasantly up at me. "Mr. Evans?" She offered me her hand. I took her hand in mine and returned her greeting, trying to smile as graciously myself. "Welcome to my house. I am Maria." She stepped aside for me to enter. "Please, come in. I assume you did not have much time for breaking your fast this morning if Monique did as she said had planned. Such a tease she is, not telling you about this appointment until just a while ago." At my grimace, she smiled again. "As I thought. Come, I have a nice continental breakfast laid out, and we can talk over coffee and croissants."
She led me into a room toward the back of the house and then into a very long hall. Too long a hall. There was no way the house I had walked into could have that long a hall in it. Peering out a window proved my conviction. We were moving through a covered walkway that passed above the alley behind the house. Our destination was another town house, directly across the alley way from the Newbury street address. From my time at MIT, I knew that this house had to face onto Commonwealth Avenue. The promised breakfast was laid in a comfortable sitting room, brightened by the rising summer sun. The room had a lovely view of the park that runs the length of Commonwealth Avenue, in between the east and west bound traffic lanes.
Remembering that I was here under Mistress Monique's orders, I took special care in remembering Old World manners. I seated Maria, and then stood by, awaiting further direction. "Please, Mr. Evans, sit." She indicated an antique wing chair opposite her. "We have not started yet, and until we do, please relax. I will tell you when not to, trust me." Her grin was impish and made her look a decade younger.
She offered coffee from a silver service, and I hesitated. Coffee does not always agree with me when I am under stress. I had learned the hard way not to drink coffee on the days that I served Mistress Monique. "Don't you like coffee, Mr. Evans?"
"No, actually, I like it perhaps too well. However, in service to Mistress Monique, I have had... accidents when the coffee came back on me during a test. Perhaps some tea would be a better idea, Ma'am."
She laughed again, and poured the coffee. "Oh, nothing of that nature will happen today, Mr. Evans. Let me tell you what it is I do, and what exactly it is your Mistress has requested of me."
I took the coffee and a christened and gave her my full attention. "My ladies and I run a very special school. There are several other establishments like ours throughout the country and the world, but we like to think that we are among the best. Simply stated, Mr. Evans, we teach boys to be girls." Only a kind fate kept me from choking on the bite of pastry in my mouth. What had Monique gotten me into?
"Over the course of our day together... oh, may I call you Nathan? And please, call me Maria for now." I nodded slowly, not yet fully assimilating what she was saying. "Thank you, Nathan. Over the course of our day together, my ladies and I will give you a taste of what is feminine from a new," her smile grew wicked, "more personal perspective. Normally, we schedule our students for two hour sessions with one, or perhaps two instructresses conducting the training. You, however, will be our only student for the entire day. You will receive the full attention of my entire staff."
My dismay was obvious. She laughed softly. "Oh, Nathan, come now. It is not that bad. It will be just us "girls". Only my staff and I will be in attendance. We will just play dress up with you, help you practice walking and talking, teach you the basics of cosmetics as well as some special techniques that mask your... physiological differences."
Her posture changed, becoming authoritative and direct. "We can, of course, do the same things the hard way. We can treat you like a recalcitrant, bad little boy. Some of my ladies do have a liking for that game." Her tone was wistful and I suspected that she was among that group. "However, as much fun as those scenes are, they are time consuming. You won't learn as much that way. Additionally, Monique has explained the unique nature of your submission to her and I would prefer not to have an angry and unhappy bottom on my hands. We would, instead, prefer your cooperation. Our time will be far more productive that way, more's the pity. Besides," and again her voice became cajoling and friendly, "Haven't you ever wondered what it would feel like to be a woman? What you would look like as a woman?" She sipped delicately at her coffee, and nibbled at a croissant as I quietly mused on my situation.
I could, of course, safeword the entire thing. Monique had promised that. Unfortunately, she had also said that she particularly enjoyed these games. I sighed, knowing what my decision would be, but wanting to delay the inevitable.
"You can do that? Show me an glimpse of what it feels like, without making me look and feel like some Saturday Night Live parody?"
"Of course, Nathan. It is what we do, and as I said earlier, we are very good at it. Although, I must admit, some of my naughtier boys become, what did you call it? Oh, yes, Saturday Night Live parodies as a discipline for not applying themselves to or for fighting their transformations. Here, let me show you." Eyes twinkling with mirth, she stood and went to the hearth and returned with a Polaroid snapshot of a man in his thirties wearing a three piece suit. He was slender, but not thin. His receding hair was cut short and his face was masculine, though not rugged. I wondered if I was about to be shown an "after" picture to go with this obvious "before" shot.
"You have already met that student today." she said casually.
I frowned. I had not met anyone today except Maria. My eyes went wide. Except for Maria and the driver. "The driver?" My voice rose in pitch with each amazed syllable.
Maria beamed with pleasure. "Yes. The driver, Nathan. Did you know your chauffeur was one of our pupils? I will take that dumbfounded look on your face to mean no. Well, today was her first solo out in public. You will have to tell her that she passed her test. It will please her greatly since she was very afraid, the silly widgeon. Her next session with her instructress, Mistress Victoria, will be much more pleasant for them both because she tried and did her best. Yes, Vicki will be very pleased with her little girl."
The use of the feminine pronouns and adjectives startled me, and Maria saw it. "Yes, Nathan. Once we start, we will leave your masculine self behind. You will be totally immersed into your own private, feminine reality. We want you to absorb every nuance of this experience. We will even give you a feminine name, which you will be expected to answer to.
"Let's be frank, Nathan. I am a Dominant woman and this is usually a house of Dominance. Dominating submissive men is not just our profession, but something in which my ladies and I take great pleasure. We can be very strict when the occasion or the submissive requires such severity. Many of the scenarios played out with the men who come here are rough, but never rougher than the students really want. You, however, are not here for the harder games. You are a special case who is here for special, intensive training.
"Nathan, you should know that your Monique loves having a man dressed in silk lingerie for her pleasure. She loves taking a cross dressed man out in public and teasing him. However, she would not, could not do that with a man who cannot or will not pass undetected as a woman in public. She is too good a domme to endanger a submissive that way or to impose on vanilla people who might be offended by the game if they became aware of it."
She stopped in her speech for a moment, seeming to choose her next words with the greatest of care. "Monique is a very special friend of mine, Nathan, and I understand that you have placed yourself in the role of aspirant to her hand in matrimony. If you are to be what she needs from the man filling that role, you will need to pleasure her in this manner. I want you to learn as much as you possibly can today. We have almost twelve hours before you must leave. If we work hard and if you cooperate, we can complete most of the school's basic training sequence and some lessons that would especially please your Mistress today before we have to quit." She gave me a steady look. A single, finely lined brow cocked in direct challenge. "Well? Do you care enough for Monique the woman to answer this special, private need of Monique the Mistress?"
I smiled, starting to relax, at last. "I will cooperate. I trust Mistress Monique not to hurt me professionally, which is really the only way that this experience could. When do we start?"
To my surprise, we started with a restatement of limits and negotiations. Monique had told me that my limits would be respected, but it came as a bit of an eye opener, when Maria read them back to me. "I am a dominant, Nathan, and you are about to become a submissive in my keeping. I do not take on any submissive, no matter how experienced or inexperienced, no matter how he comes to me, without this negotiation." She looked one last time at the notebook in her hand and then at me. "Very well."
"Nathan, as long as you are cooperating, there will be no really severe play." I cocked an eyebrow at her doubtfully. "By our standards, Nathan. Oh, you will be teased, because truthfully, it makes these games more fun for my ladies and me. There might even be some small disciplines or punishments for unladylike behavior, but nothing that will really test you or cause you more than mild discomfort. Relax, and enjoy the pampering. I am sure you will find the sensations unique.
"Nathan Evans. Are you ready to begin your schooling in the ways of the female?" Her formal mein and authoritative intonation left no doubt that the formal session was beginning.
I stood and faced her. Scanning back, I recalled the honorific that Monique had used in reference to Maria. "Yes, School Mistress, I am ready. Please teach me."
"Very good!" Her pleasure was evident in her voice. "We shall call you Natalia." She said the name with the Eastern European accent on the second syllable. "And since you are a special case, Natalia dear, you may continue to call me Maria. We have much to accomplish today and we don't want any silly barriers between us girls, do we dear?"
I did another double take at the 'us girls' comment. She grinned and I recovered. "No, Maria. We don't."
"All right, go into that room and take off those disreputable male clothes. Strip to skin, dear, and then go into the next room. Andrea will meet you there to help with your depilitation and to start your skin care lessons. Run along, dear." She patted me on the butt. "I will join you later for luncheon."
The room she directed me to was little more than a walk-in closet with doors at either end of it. I stripped to the skin, carefully hanging up my clothes as I had been taught by Mistress Monique. Feeling very self conscious now, I looked for a mirror, but there was none in the changing room. Mustering my courage, I headed for the other door. This would be the first time in my adult life that I would be nude, facing a woman who had never seen me clothed. A disconcerting thought for a man in his forties, no matter how well conditioned he might be.
The room on the other side of the door was overwhelming. I have never been in such a unabashedly feminine place in my life. Every stereotype I had ever held of "ladylike" decor, and more, was conspicuous in that room. The crawly sensation up my back was what it must be like to walk, inadvertently, into the ladies' restroom at a restaurant. There was white, satiny material everywhere, a postered, canopied and curtained bed and a huge vanity table with every cosmetic known to man or woman arrayed upon it. My amazement was such that I forgot that I was naked.
Or at least I forgot until Andrea stepped from behind some oriental shoji screens located out of my field of vision. She was short, plump and greying. She was dressed in a fisherman's net sweater, jeans and white lab coat. She looked like a grandmother, not a dominatrix for God's sake. I gaped in surprise. She grinned, well aware of the impact she had made. "Close your mouth, Natalia. It is not ladylike to catch flies. Now! Stand straight, head back, arms at your sides, please." She must have been a retired woman Marine. I had heard that voice of command before while doing my two week stint of Marine indoctrination at Quantico during Second Class Summer.
After satisfying herself with my compliance, she circled me several times, mumbling to herself. She took a measure tape to me and made copious measurements on me, all the while writing notations on a clipboard she carried. She even took out paper and, having me stand on the paper, drew outlines of my feet. "All right. Good muscle tone for a woman your age, Natalia. You obviously work out. I suspect you are a runner?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Every day I get the chance."
"Yes, well, cut the 'ma'am', please. Andrea will do. Anyway, the positive is that you have remarkably good skin and very nice legs. The negative is that you are so muscular in the torso that I don't know how well you will handle corsetting, or how effective it will be. Well, that is Maria's call." Corsetting?? "Well, come along, come along. Follow me, you have only twelve hours and Maria wants to try and get in eight full lessons since we have your undivided attention today." She lead me to a equally opulent and feminine bathroom. I had never seen a bidet before, and the tub was sinful.
Andrea put on surgical gloves and began rubbing a blue gel all over me. At first, it felt cool, then it began to tingle, and then to feel almost hot. "Stand still, Natalia. It has to stay for fifteen minutes. Be a good girl and learn to deal with minor discomforts with dignity and poise.
Dignity and poise do not come easily when you are standing nude in front of somebody's grandmother with every inch of your skin on fire. When I was allowed to shower off the blue glop, the hair on every inch of skin from my neck to my toes, except my groin, went with it. After I had dried off, I was led, still nude, to another anteroom off the main bed chamber. This one was laid out like a beauty shop, including the feminine equivalent of a barber's chair.
I sat down, noting that the chair had sturdy straps at strategic points on the armrests, foot rest, head rest and seat back. If she wanted to, Andrea could restrain me in that chair so tightly, only my eyelids could move. She saw me looking at them. "Maria says you are cooperating like a good girl, so we will dispense with those." She paused. "Unless you would like them, dear?" She sounded so hopeful, I was almost tempted to ask for them, but decided against it. I still did not fully trust what was going on, or the people involved. The ability to move was comforting.
Four other women came into the room and were introduced as Vicki, Beth, Libby and Dru. Some one touched a button and the chair began to move into a reclining position, the foot rests began to move apart, splitting my legs into a 'v', and the armrests moved out away from the chair. "That will give each of us room to work, Natalia." Andrea said. "Just keep your arms and legs where they are, dear."
The next hour was unreal. Andrea worked on my face, using a series of noxious smelling creams and lotions after shaving me three times with a straight razor. By the way, eyebrow plucking hurts. Dru worked on my hands and nails. "Since you will be with us all day, Natalia, we will do more than the press-ons our students normally use. Sculptured nails like this would cost you big dollars if you went to a boutique." She told me when I asked her what she was doing. Libby was between my spread legs working on my "bikini line" with another straight razor, scissors and finally wax (that almost brought me out of the chair in shocked surprise), while Beth and Vicki worked over my legs and gave me a pedicure.
When they finished, all this feminine attention while in the buff had its expected affect on my still male psyche. I was hard. "Well!" Andrea sniffed. "We can't do much with you in that condition, Natalia." She handed me a magazine and led the women out the door. "Deal with it, dear. I will expect it to be gone when I return."
Deal with it? I had no idea what that meant until I looked at the magazine. It was very high class pornography of a cross dressed male being dominated and having sex with a beautiful woman.
I..... dealt with it, and when I had finished, I cleaned myself up with the towel from my shower. Andrea's immediate return led me to suspect that my bout of self satisfaction had not been as private as I might have hoped. "Very good, Natalia, now come here and turn your back to me like a good girl." I did and a belt, about an inch wide, with an odd tube and strap arrangement dangling from the front, was fitted around my waist. The belt was of a very thin, but very strong, flesh colored nylon that blended with my skin.
Once the device was fitted to my cock, the other straps were pulled between my legs and up around my buttocks like a jockstrap, and then tightened. Any hint of a male bulge in my front disappeared. Andrea then took me back to the bedroom and seated me at the vanity, but facing away from the mirror. I am not sure what she did with those brushes and tubes, but it did not take her long to finish. She fitted a wig to my head and then helped me into some strangely-weighted feminine under garments.
Maria entered as Andrea was pulling up the zip on the extremely tight blue jeans that went with penny loafers and a pastel t-shirt. "Wonderful, Andrea, as always. She is charming."
I had not been allowed to look in the mirror yet, and I will admit to great curiosity about what I had been made up to look like, and how I looked. On a signal from Maria, Andrea pulled the curtain back from the full length mirror.
I was dressed to look like a teenage girl. A very tall one, but still, the job of cosmetic magic done by Andrea had smoothed my face, hidden a lot of faults and brought out a softness that I would not have thought possible. There was still the hint of age about my face, but it was more like an older woman trying to look younger than like a man trying to look like a girl. The hint of a shape from the forms in the brassiere and the hips of the special jeans seemed utterly natural, as did the long, fine haired ponytail that fell down my back.
"I told you, Natalia, that we were very good." Maria smiled at me benignly. "Come, sit and have some iced tea with me. Now that you have seen for yourself what can be done, I will explain what we have done and what is planned."
I was corrected three times in the next half hour on more feminine walking and sitting. After that, I concentrated harder on mimicking behaviors I had not observed closely enough in the past.
"Natalia, this is a very gentle introduction for our school. Sometimes, we do restrain our students for their initial treatments. Of course, such games are never truly done without their consent, but the imagery of "forced feminization" is a very powerful fantasy for many, if not most, men. Sometimes, we play some pretty heavy humiliation scenes that might include baby rompers or little girl dresses so that they can "grow up" female in our teaching. But for you, we merely wanted to get you started and prove that we were not going to make into a clown or caricature, only a girl, dear, and eventually, a woman. And you have been a very good girl so far, much to the disappointment of a couple of my instructresses." She grinned with wicked delight. "That is probably just as well since there is still much to be done with you today. Maybe if you come back, we can let them play more freely with you. Now, for the remainder of the day, you will be taken through several different dressing experiences, and taught how to move, how to talk, body language and some basic cosmetic use. Enjoy the experience. I will be back from time to time to add my own little pointers and to monitor your progress."
She left and Dru returned. She worked me on walking, sitting, standing, all the while maintaining a continuous line of chatter to give me practice a more feminine voice.
The teenager gave way to a Yuppie, dressed in a short white tennis dress, who learned how to run like a female (the weighted breast forms made me 'bounce' uncomfortably when I used my normal running style). A country club light lunch followed, with the entire faculty, where feminine table manners, mannerisms and voice inflection were emphasized.
Afternoon tea was served to a highly born woman of Regency times in full regalia. Long dress, gloves, hat, and of course, period lingerie which also doubled as torture devices for the Inquisition. However, the effect was fascinating. I was not beautiful, not even pretty as a woman, but I was striking thanks to my height and to the artistry of the ladies of the school. Over tea, I inquired more about the school.
"It is just as I told you. We teach boys to be girls. Our clients include some men who come to us on their own, and some men who are sent by their owners. Usually those men are sent by women, although we do have one or two students who are here because their Master wants them to appear to be a heterosexual couple for business reasons. We do everything from basic cosmetology to high fashion; from fine lingerie to extreme fetish. Every experience a woman might have, we can at least simulate for our students."
"Lingerie? But, how? I mean..." My hands went to my chest and the shapely breast forms filling out the bodice of my dress. "These are not real. Won't they show up?"
Maria laughed. "Oh ye of little faith. The art of lingerie is in what it hides, Natalia, not is what it lets show. Vicki, what is scheduled next? The fashion show? Ah yes. Well, let's do a sexy lingerie segment instead. Natalia does not need to play fashion model anyway. She has shown unusual poise for such a new student. Let's see, how shall we dress her, Vicki? Something.... overt, perhaps even blatant."
The petite redhead's face lit up with wicked glee. "Susie?" She asked hopefully.
"Oh, fabulous, Vicki. Now, remember, I want a more classy, sleeker style, though." Vicki's face lost a little of its animation. I breathed a sigh of relief, even if I did not know precisely why. "And." Maria gave the word authoritative emphasis, "I will finish the lesson once Natalia is suitably dressed and made up."
"Yes, Maria." Vicki was definitely disappointed with that bit of news. I did not know if I liked this. Vicki had so far been the one to find opportunities for the "little disciplines" I had been promised by Maria. Finish the lesson? What did that mean?
Maria also saw the disappointment written on the woman's face and reached over to pat Vicki's hand. "Don't be too upset, dear. Monique is my friend, and Natalia is her very special friend. I suspect we will see her again. There will be other chances to instruct her more completely, Victoria." Victoria led me back to the boudoir, as I tried to figure out how in the world I could ever look anything but silly in nothing but lingerie.
An hour later, I had a better idea as I stared, dazed, at my reflection in the mirror. A veritable lion's mane of black, shaggy hair surrounded my face with intentional disarray. Vivid, stark color outlined, highlighted and accented my mouth, eyes and cheeks. My face still was not anything like classically beautiful, but I sure as hell was sexy. I would have stopped traffic anywhere in the world. And that did not take into account the rest of me. Hell, the whole package would have caused traffic pileups.
Andrea was right. Corsetting was not fun, particularly when the corsetrix used heavy duty binding straps to hold the contraption together while the laces were pulled progressively even tighter. My 34 inch waist was gradually reduced to just under thirty. The top I wore had vertical slits from which incredibly realistic breast forms, complete with lifelike nipples, just barely peaked through. Made of stretchy black satiny material and see through gauze, it fit me like a glove from elbow to elbow, and from neck to just under the top of the damned corset. Tap pants, that left my derriere bare, hid the belt that held back my penis, and long, garter suspended, seamed black stockings ended in uncomfortably high heeled shoes.
Vicki complained that all they had in my size were these puny three and half inch heels, but they would have to do. I mentally thanked benign Providence for small favors as she put me through yet another half hour of walking and talking practice. I don't know about the talking, but I definitely needed walking practice in those heels.
Relief washed over me as Maria arrived and excused Vicki. She departed, but not before trying to wheedle a chance to help with the "lesson". Maria declined with a laugh, promising to let her have "all the fun" with the next student who did Suzie.
She turned back to me and nodded approvingly. "Well, still not a parody, are we, Natalia. Pretty damned sexy, girl, and definitely blatant, but not a caricature." She walked me back to the mirror. "Meet Susie Slut, dear, or at least, one of her more elegant incarnations. Some of our clients love this role, the sluttier, the better. Some of the women who send their men to us love this role for their men." She gave me a sly look. "Can you guess what the next part of the training is?"
I decided to play dumb. I was not sure I really wanted to know. Maria grinned at my reluctance and put her hand firmly on my elbow. "Well, come along, then."
I followed her lead to a room down the hall. Inside, laying flat on a bed, was a nude man. I nearly recoiled in horror, before I realized that he was unusually still. Closer inspection revealed that the man was a lifelike mannequin, made of the same material as these breasts It was also anatomically correct in every visible detail. "Yes, we teach our girls how to please men. Some students are actually bisexual. Others who take this lesson are not yet bisexual, but their Mistresses want them to be. Still others are here simply for the experience or even as punishment. Natalia, meet John Q.. John as in a prostitute's customer, and Q for John Q. Public. John is the perfect training dummy for a would be slut. His penis is fully functional and is controllable by the instructress in charge. He can be flaccid or erect; he can even be different sizes. The size can even be changed "on the fly" so that the girl thinks she is getting a much bigger cock than she actually does get, or vice versa."
Her grin was positively sinful as she let that thought hang in the air before continuing. "He is suitable for oral, anal or manual training of the student-slut. Even his body temperature is normal. Go ahead, feel his cock. It is even warm to the touch." She smirked at my obvious reluctance for this part of the game. "Go on. We won't make you 'play' with him, but see what the wonders of technology can do."
Hesitantly, I reached over, and grazed my red nailed fingers over the flaccid pseudo cock. My hand stilled in amazement at the texture and warmth, and my head swiveled to Maria's laughing gaze. In that moment, "John" instantly erected, becoming huge, and then spurted a thick, copious mass of what looked like semen all over my hand. I jumped back, losing my still precarious balance in the damnable heels, and would have fallen if Maria had not caught me. "As you can see, he also is capable of orgasm. If you would care to taste, you will find that its flavor and consistency is all but indistinguishable from the real thing. It is sterilized and entirely safe to ingest"
I wiped my hand on the bed sheet and looked disgustedly at Maria. "I would not know." She saw the incipient anger and backed off. I had not liked that particular surprise.
"That was a joke, Natalia." Frost tinged her cultured tones. "However, you may rest assured that if this was one of our normal client training sessions, you might well be ordered to get down on your knees to worship that cock." Anger flashed in her eyes as she nearly bit each word in two getting them out. "And such disrespectful behavior as that would have earned you a significant chastisement that you would not enjoy. Remember that, if and when you return to us, Natalia. Victoria loves training sluts, and she does it very well. Probably because she loves punishing reticent behavior so much. If you do return, Natalia, she will be your instructress in this phase of your training. I will see to it."
I said nothing, and merely stared at her, waiting for her next move - my safeword at the ready. Whether she saw that and decided to not press further, or whether she thought she had made her point with her last threat, I don't know. She simply shrugged and beckoned me to follow her back to the dressing room. "Well, we still have more to accomplish today, Natalia. Come along. Beth is waiting for you."