As I am standing in La Contessa's boudoir waiting to offer my service my gaze is drawn to the stunning gown draped across the back of a chair. A dress fashioned in glimmering emerald silk with a mantle in rich cream and embroidered with a design of orange flowers. The sleeves and hem are trimmed with the most delicate Belgian lace. It is decorated with golden brocade and passementerie embedded with Venetian pearls. It is as magnificent a gown as I have ever seen in her possession, and that is a fine compliment knowing how La Contessa is admired by the elite of 18th century Venice for the style and opulence of her dress and the magnificence of her balls and parties.
Eventually La Contessa turns away from her bureau where she has been writing a letter. I cannot resist the temptation to comment on her gown.
"If I may be so bold, Contessa, I have been admiring your dress. I believe you will be the toast of Venice in that gown."
She fixes her cold and steely gaze onto me and I immediately realise how inappropriate my comment is. I prepare myself for the inevitable reprimand. Her voice is a torrent of enraged disdain.
"Who do you think you are? How dare you offer your opinion without being asked. I don't expect to receive compliments from mere servants. What place do you think you hold in this household? You are a slave. Your thoughts and feelings mean nothing to me. What are you?"
"Your servant, Contessa."
"And what are you to me?"
"Worthless Contessa. My place is only to serve you," I reply.
"That's better. Don't ever forget your place in my household."
Then the tone of her voice changes, there is an enigmatic glint in her eye and the hint of a smile on her lips.
"Besides, who says that the dress is for me?"
Now she turns around in her chair and faces me with an appraising look.
"Today, my servant, you are going to serve me in a different way. You are going to entertain me. I am going to take you on a little expedition."
She leans forward in her chair her pearl white teeth breaking into a mischievous smile. For servants in La Contessa's employ this is more disconcerting than being rebuked. I am left wondering what wicked plans her fertile imagination might have conjured up for her servant.
"I'm glad that you appreciate this gown slave, because today it will amuse me to see you dressed in it as a high class noble woman, like myself. And then, we will go out together for a little promenade so that the good residents of Venice can admire us."
So this is the game that La Contessa desires to play with me today. It is an unusual request, but I know by now that this should not be of any great surprise to me. La Contessa is renowned for the bizarre sexual tasks that she expects her household staff to carry out for her. My initial reaction is one of unease. I have never had any desire to dress in a woman's clothes before and the idea of it is challenging. On the other hand, perhaps I should be thankful that my task for the day will be only to dress up for La Contessa and that I will not be subjected to any more severe punishment.
"I will offer my maid to assist you whilst I retire to my dressing room to get ready myself. When I return, I expect to find you transformed into a Venetian noblewoman."
She gestures to her maid who has been standing in the corner of the room to come over. Our eyes make contact with a spark of silent burning sexuality. She is dressed finely, restrained by the standards of La Contessa, but in a style that would grace the mistress of any merchant home in Venice. Her bosom is heaving above her tightly drawn bodice. Whatever spark of attraction passes between us has to be played out subtly and silently as we dare not attract La Contessa's attention and risk her anger by flirting openly.
The maid, who I know of as Julia, helps me undress. She pulls down my breeches and gently but knowingly brushes the inside of my thigh as she does so. My cock twitches with the first yearnings of arousal. I am soon standing naked in front of her.
She holds up a pair of silk cami-knickers and smiles playfully at me.
"You must put these on. La Contessa wants every piece of your dress to be perfect."
I pull them gently up, feeling the satin texture of the silk rub against my leg and thigh and finally against my cock and balls. It is hard to describe the sensation. On the one hand I feel humiliated, made to stand in front of a female maid in women's undergarments my manhood enveloped in silk. But then there is also something deliciously sensuous about it. The touch of the smooth material, the feeling of succumbing to a feminine side that I did not realise I possessed.
"The corset is next, I'm afraid."
Julia is trying hard to suppress a laugh. Her blue eyes are sparkling with amusement at my predicament. She is taking pleasure in my embarrassment but also revelling in the sexual tension of this strange situation.
"The cut of the dress will provide you with hips and I will find some stuffing to create your breasts but you must put the corset on to pull in your waist. La Contessa needs you to pass as a perfect lady."
I take offence at this. I am young and lithe and have very little flesh to pull in. I feel the gentle brush of Julia's hair against my skin as she stands behind me to fit the stiff whale bone corset and tighten its cords. By the time she has finished my waist feels pencil thin. How can women wear such things? But I know I must tolerate the discomfort to serve as La Contessa wishes.
Julia helps me on with the padded and stuffed bra to help create the illusion of an amply breasted lady. Then she helps me into the magnificent dress. The weight of the layers of rich material lays heavy on me. I have to adjust my stance to stop myself from falling over. Once again I am astonished by the encumbrances that women have to endure. How can they possibly move freely and go about their daily business in such dress?
Julia's face is a picture of concentration as she does my make up. Occasionally she permits herself a subtle glance and smile. She applies white powder to my face as is the fashion of the day and uses her finger to smear rouge onto my cheeks and then sensuously runs her finger across my lips. She puts on long false eyelashes and eye shadow and then applies a small patch of black taffeta in the shape of a half moon onto the top of my check bone. Finally, she ties my hair up and secures a wig on my head. It is full head of blond curls built up high above my head in an elaborate hair piece. The whole experience has been made me feel very vulnerable but also, I have to confess, very aroused.
Julia stands back to admire her creation and smiles approvingly at me.
"There, we are finished now. Let's both hope that La Contessa is pleased with how you look."
We do not have long to wait before La Contessa calls a command from her dressing room.
"Servant, I want you to stand in front of the mirror, close your eyes and wait for me."
I do as I am told and wait expectantly for La Contessa's entrance. If the dress that she has offered her servant is so luxurious I try to imagine how stunning she must look. I can sense movement behind me and then feel an arm pass under mine and take hold of my hand.
"Servants you have done a good job for me. I see my slave transformed into the perfect image of a Venetian lady. What does it feel like, to be turned into a woman?" she asks.
"I feel humiliated and emasculated, mistress, but at the same time strangely sensuous," I reply.
"It is good that you feel humiliated. You should feel that you have surrendered something for your mistress. You should realise that your sexuality means nothing, that your mistress can change your gender at her whim. This is just the start of a journey for you servant. You have to learn that servants in my employ must be prepared to give everything up for me, even their very manhood.
"You will be paraded and shown off. You will be taken through the canal-sides and alleyways of Venice in the full view of the public. They will stare at you. Will you pass as a finely dressed Venetian noblewoman or will they suspect the hidden secret under your beautiful dress?
"Now, the time has come for me to reveal myself to you. Open your eyes and look into the mirror."
I open my eyes and before me, reflected in La Contessa's ornate mirror are two figures standing arm in arm. I, transformed into a Venetian noblewoman, and La Contessa, into an elegant Venetian patrician.
She is wearing an azure and gold damask jacket trimmed with jewelled buttons, grey silk trousers, white breeches and black Italian leather buckled shoes. Her dark hair is straightened and swept back in a fashionable pony tail underneath a black silk tri-cornered hat decorated with gold brocade. Above her lips is a false black moustache. With her other hand she is holding a sword stick.
Our respective transformations are indeed stunning, but will we pass as the perfect noble couple? La Contessa appears to be delighted.
"Come, the canals and lanes of Venice await us."
XXXXXXXXXX
From La Contessa's palace on the Grand Canal we set out on foot at a leisurely pace towards the Rialto bridge. La Contessa seems to be in her element as she nods her head in greeting to every passing stranger as we stroll along the canal side paths and elegant squares of the city. It is as if she is inviting everybody to take notice of us, teasing them to guess if this perfect noble couple are not quite what they seem.
I can't help thinking that everybody is looking at us, suspicious that there is something not quite right about how we look or how we carry ourselves. I feel uncomfortable and uneasy dressed as a woman. Although our respective transformations are remarkable I am self conscious of the flaws that betray the dark secret underneath the elegant clothes. I feel the humiliation of being exposed to public view dressed as a woman. How many people can guess that underneath my gown there is a hardening cock rubbing against the silky smoothness of my cami-knickers?
La Contessa is now leading us down the Merceria and then into Campo di San Canciano. I start to recognise some of these alleyways from my youth and the times before I was taken into the employment of La Contessa. She is taking us into the Cannaregio district, the working class area of Venice. As we stroll deeper into this district the lanes become narrower and the buildings shabbier.
The people in the streets are dressed in their working clothes. The grand palaces of the Grand Canal and the elegantly apparelled clientele on the Rialto have been left far behind. I feel even more self conscious now. Dressed like this we stand out and start to attract curious stares from the local people going about their daily business.
