Phoebe greedily stared at the delicate contraption that secreted my cock and balls. I was absolutely blessed to be given both a healthy set of balls and a lovely set of girlish globes. Who could be luckier than I?
"Everything is in place, Miss. Priscilla," Phoebe muttered as she continued to stare at my cock.
I trembled a little with excitement as I felt Phoebe's hungry eyes devouring my body.
"Stand still!" Phoebe barked. And then she came forward and rather impudently put her hands near my thighs. She ran her fingers and the palms of her hand slowly over my soft white flesh, pausing for a long moment on my package of love. Her eyes met mine in a devious smile that suggested quite a lot. She grabbed my cock hard and gave it a healthy squeeze. My breasts heaved involuntarily, and I felt my nipples spring to erection, a state of excitement to match my erect penis. I suddenly feared that Phoebe was going to excite my passions beyond all hope, and I would be forced to carelessly spray my seed all over these lovely clothes.
"Oh! Please," I moaned softly. My plea was in part a begging sound for her to cease, and in part a desperate call for her to continue. I wanted her to defile me completely with her strong grip.
"It will teach you to be modest in the presence of women, Denise, and to remember that you are under their authority. You will wear it always."
Priscilla pulled down my skirt and arranged it so that the toes of my slippers and an inch of silk-stockinged instep were exposed. As she finished, Helen entered the room. She looked beautiful in a sweeping decollete gown of black velvet and shoulder length white kid gloves.
I could not complain of any want of admiration on her part in any event. A look of wonder and delight shone in her face as she approached me. She uttered a rapturous cry. She ran to me, hugged me, and with passionate kisses, bruised my lips.
"Denise! I am so proud of you."
I hung my head, conscious for a moment of the full extent of my humiliation. I was her victim. And I loved my enslavement. I adored her for exposing my true self. I loved and feared her because she dominated me completely.
"Oh, Denise!" She laid her lovely face against mine. "Your cheek is as soft and fresh as a peach. You are a lovely girl."
"I am not a girl," I weakly protested. I was becoming drunk with her attentions.
"Aren't you, darling? You shall decide for yourself."
One of the great mirrors was placed behind me. Oh, how excited I became! At last I was to see what they had made of me. The second was placed in front of me unfolded. I stood in a blaze of light. I stared at myself. I uttered a cry and covered my face with my hands.
"Oh, I am! I am a girl!" I admitted with a cry of pure delight. I hoped for propriety's sake, that I sounded a little shocked.
I saw a girl's face, of fair complexion, mine but more refined and softened. A wealth of fair glinting hair, done up in the most fashionable style, crowned my face. A broad white forehead and arched eyebrows showed darker than my curls. Big, wistful eyes of dark blue with long dark eyelashes flashed. I saw a delicate nose, soft cheeks in which the color came in excitement. Red lips in a Cupid's bow, the color of pale rose leaves. I was smiling and showing a perfect set of small white teeth, a small rounded chin, little ears-such was Dennis Beryl upon his return from school.
I saw in the mirror a girl sparkling with jewels from her feet to her curls, and dressed for a ball in the London season. Helen was in raptures. She might well be, since this was her doing. I was her creation
"You have exceeded all my expectations, darling," she said.
With little cries of delight, she ran her gloved hands over me, feeling and caressing my skin until I was scarlet with embarrassed desire.
"Oh, Helen. You mustn't," I protested.
"Nonsense, dear! I am your guardian. Keep still, or else I will whip your girlish bottom."
"Oh, oh!" I sighed as an excruciating sensation made me blush more than ever.
"Whip me? In this lovely frock?" I whispered shyly.
"Ah," cried Helen enthusiastically, "you do love your exquisite satin frock, darling, don't you?" It rustled delightfully under her hands. "And the tulle band here with the big sparkling buckle in front and the big bow behind?"
"It ties my ankles delightfully," I stammered as she continued to stroke my body.
Oh, was it I was who speaking? "The dress is like a soft caress upon my limbs."
Helen applauded me with a radiant face. She ran her daintily gloved hands down the dress across my behind. She felt through its thin texture, squeezing my legs and calves as she teased me.
"They're charming," she cried. "Your legs are as soft as butter. And you love your stockings too, Denise, don't you-the exquisite stockings I deck you out in?"
The feel of her hands affectionately pinching my calves was intoxicating. Her dainty air of mastery wooed me, lulled me into believing that she actually owned me.
"The stockings are deliciously cool," I said.
"And your white satin slippers with the high heels and the pretty bows and the sparkling buckles, you love them too? Lift up her dress to the knees, Phoebe. Don't you love your little girls' shoes, Denise?"
Phoebe raised my skirt to the knees. The white satin garters with the big bows and buckles and the dainty frills of my batiste pantalets were visible.
"Look in the mirror Denise and tell me gratefully that you love them!"
"If I must wear girls' shoes," I replied blushing deeply, "they may as well have high heels and diamond buckles." Something much stronger than myself made me speak. In the midst of her delight, Helen exchanged a quick glance with Miss. Priscilla. It was a glance of triumph and it put me on my guard.
Phoebe let my dress fall and Helen took me round the waist. "You are delightful Denise. You are quite a girl now with that pretty white bosom."
"Yes, Ma'am," said Phoebe, "her breasts have come up wonderfully. I think Miss. Denise ought to be very grateful to Miss. Priscilla for the trouble she has taken in arranging the proper exercises and massage and medicines."
"Oh, there was no difficulty," said Miss. Priscilla. "The moment I discovered that Denise had the milk vessels of a woman, I had no doubt that we could fit him with as pretty a pair of girl's white breasts. As perfect as any young lady could wish for."
"The milk vessels," cried Phoebe with a laugh. "Then Miss. Denise is a freak?"
"Not at all," said Miss. Priscilla calmly. "The men of the primitive tribes used to have the milk vessels. Miss. Denise may be a chance return to the primitive type. Or originally it might have been that nature was going to give Evelyn a twin sister, and that their embryos got mixed. That happens not infrequently."
Helen laughed and stroked my cheek lasciviously. I could tell she had further designs on me. But that was later.
"In any case, Denise has a girl's bosom-for life." She touched them with her gloved fingers and daintily caressed them, ruthlessly titillating my nipples, sending waves of delicious sensation through my veins. "They are a real punishment, dear, for all the trouble you have given us. You can't get rid of them as you could of your girl's shoes and stockings if we were to let you. They are a permanent proof to you of the wisdom of being a woman and the pleasure of being obedient to women."
"But you are going to let me get rid of my girls' shoes and stockings tomorrow. You promised faithfully, Helen," I said.
Helen held me firmly, caressed me, bruised my lips with burning kisses.
"You don't want to get rid of them Denise. You love them! You love your dainty frocks. You will be so much happier as a girl."
She pleaded with me, her voice, the perfume of her breath, the feel of her limbs through my dress tempted me. I felt inclined to let myself go in her arms, to say, "Helen I belong to you." But I remembered my ambitions.