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Archive-name: Changes/gretchen.06

Archive-author: Amelia Allbyte

Archive-title: On Becoming Gretchen - 6

Chapter Six

The next day started exactly as the previous one. After being

released and doing my morning necessities, I went into the

kitchen and prepared Miss Irene's breakfast. This time I didn't

make the mistake of thinking I was worthy of eating with her.

After serving her and again eating her leftovers, I went to her

room in response to her summons. She was wearing only a peignoir,

not the elaborate costume she had worn the previous morning. "You

will be my personal maid as well as do the housework, cook, and

serve meals. You may as well start learning now. You can begin by

helping me with my bath. Draw the water, warm, but not too hot.

Remember to add the bath crystals on the counter."

I did as she ordered, constantly testing the water, all the while

hoping that she would like the temperature I selected.

When the water was ready, I went in to inform her. She slipped

off the robe and, well, she undulated into the bath.

Yesterday, she was erotic while wearing the sexy costume. Today,

unclad, she was beautiful. Her body was perfect. The pink nipples

and aureoles capped her perfect breasts that rose to their full

perfection. The dark pubic patch had been shaved to form a

perfect heart. Awe-struck, I gazed at her as she passed me and

went into the tub.

She dipped her toe in the water, testing it. "It's a bit warm,

but acceptable this first time. However, next time have it a few

degrees cooler."

"Yes, Miss Irene."

She entered the tub and I helped her bathe. I washed her back,

handed her the washcloth or soap or whatever she wanted. When she

was through, I patted her dry with a large fluffy bath towel.

We the returned to the bedroom. She turned, facing me. "Get down

on your knees," she ordered. I complied.

She approached me until there were only a few inches between my

face and her furry patch. "You will now service me, and use your

tongue," she commanded, pulling my head up into her crotch.

I pushed my nose into her, and then hesitantly at first, slipped

my tongue between the thick wet lips of her labia and began

working it around. I found the hot musky taste of her vaginal

fluids quite tantalizing.

My exploring tongue moved about within her vagina. I felt her

quiver as erotic sensations were being aroused within her body.

Suddenly, I wanted to make her come. I wanted to orally satisfy

her so that she would reach orgasm. I began driving my tongue

deeper while at the same time thrashing it about within her,

trying to stimulate her to greater arousal.

Apparently I met with some success as her gyrations on my mouth

became more frantic and the fleshy lips of her pink tunnel became

coated with a thick, gooey lubricant, which I collected on my


I don't know how long I, or rather we, kept it up. She kept

getting more and more excited and held my face so far up against

her snatch that I could hardly breathe. At that moment, I didn't

care. I only wanted for her to climax into my subservient mouth.

She finally gave a tremendous tremor and sighed audibly, then

relaxed, satiated.

Releasing my head, she ordered me to my feet. Pulling down my

lace panties, she smiled triumphantly.

"You're learning how to obey." I looked down in amazement. All

during the whole erotic act, I had no physical arousal. My cock

was still soft and limp although I was on an erotic high.

"As a reward for your obedience, you have my permission to have

an erection. In fact, I order you to have one."

Apparently of its own volition, my cock started to obey. I could

feel the blood pulsing within it. I watched it slowly engorge

until within a few seconds it stood straight and stiff, pressing

the front of my panties out obscenely.

I can't explain it. Ordinarily I considered my cock to have a

mind of its own. It would get erect in crowds, embarrassing me

with its distinct bulge. At other times I'd be embarrassed for no

good reason because it wouldn't come up. Now, here, in one day,

this strange woman was making it do as she wished.

"You are a bit repressed, aren't you?"

"Yes, Miss Irene. Horny would be a better word. It's been quite a


She handed me a pair of her panties. "You have my permission to

have some relief. Masturbate yourself into those panties."

"Here? Now? Right in front of you?"

"Certainly. You must not have any ejaculation or erection without

my permission. On the other hand, if I should order it, you WILL

comply. Also, you will only have sexual arousal by my orders,

unless, of course, I lend to other mistresses. Then you will obey

them as you would me."

I was red-faced and embarrassed. I had never been specifically

ordered to beat my meat, nor had I ever done it in the presence

of a lovely woman. Miss Irene stood there with a slight smile on

her lips, enjoying her superiority and my embarrassment.

"Well, are going to deliberately disobey me or are you going to


I reached down and grabbed my cock. It felt hot in my hand. I

began to stroke it. She stared intently at my activity. I

gradually began manipulating it at a faster pace. It responded,

beginning to throb somewhat, a bit of ejaculate lubricating it. I

gradually increased the rapidity of my stroking and could feel my

excitement rising.

I was soon rapt with the sensations rising within me. I knew Miss

Irene was still watching me, but I was no longer embarrassed. I

did note, without being fully aware of it, that she was staring

intently at my masturbation, her breath coming in short gasps in

unison with my own.

Suddenly, I knew it was time and placed the panties over the tip

of my swollen cock. I closed my eyes and exploded!

As I was ejaculating, I felt a cool hand over my own. I opened my

eyes and looked down. Miss Irene's hand was over mine, her body

was bucking, and I'd swear that she had an orgasm in conjunction

with mine.

She recovered her composure rather quickly, and as I was coming

back to my senses she said, "Yesterday, you cleaned the house.

Today is washing and ironing day. You will take your bath and

apply your own makeup. Instead of a uniform, you will find a

skirt and blouse lying on your bed. I want you to get used to

wearing various sorts of female clothing."

"When you are finished dressing and applying your makeup and feel

that you are presentable, report to me for inspection. After you

pass, I'll show you where the laundry is and what you have to


Relaxed, and finally at ease with myself, I left to do as she


I took my bath as directed, liberally dumping in the bath

crystals and luxuriating in the sweet-smelling warm water.

Completing the bath, I went into my room and discovered a

complete wardrobe laid out on my bed.

I put on the white nylon lace panties that were liberally

embroidered with pink butterflies. The matching bra, I discovered

with some satisfaction, was front-hooked, which for me was much

easier to put on. The skirt portion of the slip was of a sleek

white nylon. The bodice was form-fitting and all lace; even the

shoulder straps were lace. The same pale pink butterflies that

adorned my panties and bra were also on the slip.

The blouse was pullover type with a modified 'V' neck full of

lace ruffles. The sleeves were short and puffed. The cuffs were

white satin with lace ruffles similar to those around the collar.

The material of the blouse was very sheer, almost transparent,

and the lace of the slip could easily be seen through it.

The skirt was pale pink, made from a soft wool fabric. It was

fully pleated and had its own self belt.

The panty hose were a very light shade of beige and were very

sheer, almost invisible when worn, except for the sheen that

accented the pleasing appearance of my shaved legs. The

three-inch heeled shoes were open-toed with spaghetti straps that

buckled around the ankle.

I also discovered a fine gold necklace with a tiny pendant, a

matching bracelet, and a pair of pierced earrings with pendants

that matched the one on the necklace.

Prior to putting on my skirt and blouse, I applied my makeup. I

was still far from an expert but at least by now I had a good

idea as to how to apply the various cremes and colors. I selected

a lipstick that would match my red nails, with a slight pink

cast. I figured that would match the pale pink skirt. I also

selected a very light shade of pink for my eye shadow, hoping it

would kind of go with the outfit. Although I was learning to

apply makeup, I still had a long way to go in learning to match

colors and shades.

Completing my makeup, I carefully put on the rest of my feminine

clothing, then the jewelry, and finally set the wig on my head

and brushed it out.

Looking myself over, satisfied with what I saw, I presented

myself to Miss Irene.

She took one look and exclaimed, "I thought I taught you how to

apply mascara. It should look natural, and each lash should be

separate, not glued together in clumps as you have done."

She reached into her own vanity, rustled through it for a few

moments, then returned. "Here is a mascara comb. Go back and fix

that mascara. When it looks right, let me see it again."

I did as she directed and was surprised at how effective the

little comb was. It smoothed and separated each lash, making them

appear longer and decidedly more attractive.

Again I presented myself to Miss Irene. This time she grudgingly

approved of my appearance. I felt quite proud of my

accomplishments, and strangely enough, I also enjoyed the feeling

of attractive femininity that I knew I portrayed.

Miss Irene wasted no time, and led me into the laundry room. "all

the lingerie that is here, you will wash by hand." She then

instructed me as to how to wash the rest of the items, and

cautioned me to be careful of the clothes I was wearing. There

were of a light color and delicate fabrics. I believe Miss Irene

deliberately selected them to make it difficult. Then she left me

to myself.

There wasn't a whole lot of the regular laundry. A few sheets,

some towels, and a load or so of wash-n-wear clothing, belonging,

I assumed, to Miss Irene. There were blouses, skirts, shorts,

jeans, and things of that sort. I eyed the jeans, some of them,

and even the blouses, a few of which looked like they would not

be too out of place if worn by a male.

It put the thought of escape in my mind, but until I could figure

a way out, such thoughts were useless. So I went back to the task

at hand.

There were no problems with washing the clothes. I put them in

the washer, then the dryer, and let them go. The lingerie was

another matter. There was a mountain of it. It was hard to

imagine that any one person could have so many underclothes, much

less get them all so that they all needed washing at the same

time. My mistress much change her undies four or five times a day

and go that way for a month to have that much to wash.

I started the washing machine and then began sorting and hand

washing the lingerie. Panties, hose, slips, gowns, bras,

everything. It seemed that there were zillions of each kind in

every imaginable style and color.

Originally, I had thought that this would be an easy day - after

all, how many clothes does one woman wear? I mentioned something

about it while I served lunch to Miss Irene.

"Oh, most of that lingerie belongs to friends. They asked me to

have it done when they discovered I was going to get a maid."

Now, how did they, or Miss Irene, know she was going to get a

maid, at least me specifically? If I hadn't, by chance, accepted

that ride, then been hauled off and dumped hereabouts, I'd never

have been anywhere near this place. Did they have someone else in

mind? If they did, then there should be two of us. Did she know

in advance somehow that I or someone else would come by? Or did

she have other plans, and I just happened by and caused a

last-minute change? The idle comment Miss Irene made brought all

sorts of questions to my mind. I even get up the nerve and

temerity to ask her how they knew she would obtain a maid.

She looked at me frostily and simply replied that it was none of

my business. I was merely her maid and I would be better off to

learn my duties rather than to worry about matters that didn't

concern me.

There was one hint she did give. She said that if it suited their

purpose, Mistress Circe would teach me all I needed to know in

order to become a better maid.

"Who is Mistress Circe?", I boldly inquired.

"Mistress Circe is the queen of the Sisters of Circe. She and a

few of her aides will be here for dinner tomorrow night. They

will judge your appearance and deportment to see if you are

worthy of continued development and training."

"Oh, if I don't pass, you turn me loose?"

"We have said enough about this. You had better realize that what

you learn, how you look and act will have a real bearing on

whether you live or die. Your impertinence will also be

considered in your judgment. I should add that your unprovoked

attack upon me and subsequent punishment will also be considered

in your final judgment. Your impertinent behavior that I am

observing now doesn't help you in the judgment."

I didn't need to be clubbed to get the hint. "Yes, Miss Irene," I

apologized, clumsily trying to curtsy. "Is there anything else

you need?"

She smiled at my attempted curtsy and said, "No, Gretchen, that's

all. You had better get back to work. However, it would be a good

idea for you to be more graceful when you curtsy to acknowledge

my orders."

Rather subdued, I returned to the laundry room. From the hints

that Miss Irene dropped, there was something more than me just

acting as a maid for one party. It appeared that my future had

but one real choice, slavery as a feminized maid. The options of

death or insanity were no choices. As far as I was concerned,

there was no other choice.

I finally finished the lingerie and began hanging the items on

lines that were strung across the room. While hanging them up, I

took the opportunity to study the windows. As I should have

expected, the windows were locked and had heavy grilles bolted to

them. Not to keep intruders out, but to make sure the subject of

feminization, me, stayed in.

While I was looking over the windows, with a very faint hope of

escape on my mind, Miss Irene walked in and saw me. "That's

right," she said. "Every window is securely barred. I don't want

my domestic help to 'accidentally' fall out and hurt themselves.

And you should also know that all of the doors are steel and the

locks are all electrically operated. Even if by some far-fetched

chance you managed to overcome me, there still wouldn't be any

way out. And the punishment for trying would be most severe."

Despondently, I knew that she spoke the truth. My fate was

sealed. Even if I could overwhelm my captor, I'd be trapped in

the house until Mistress Circe, whoever she was, came in and

found me.

"Oh, yes, another thing. The telephone is fixed so that all

outgoing calls are routed through the local Sisters of Circe


"Oh, I wasn't thinking of escape, Miss Irene. I'd never try to

escape from you or to make a telephone call without your

permission," I lied, going back to my chores.

"I just know you wouldn't, Gretchen," she said with a knowing


I finally finished the wash. Miss Irene told me to leave the

dainties hanging. When Miss Irene's friends came, they would pick

their own right off the line.



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