"Hello. I'm Doctor Butterfield. Call me Pauline.
"Angela."
"I'm Frank."
"Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything? Coffee, pop, water?
"A bottle of water would be nice."
"Sure. Frank?
"Coffee'd be great, black, no sugar, please."
Pauline already has a mug on the oval table. Her chair is on one side. Angela and I sit in similar armchairs on the other side. She hands Angela a bottle of water and a glass, then pours me a coffee. I take a sip. Good.
"So, lets start by getting to know each other. Ladies first. Angela where were you born?"
I sip my coffee as Angela relates her life story.
Oops, my hand is going numb and I just dropped my coffee mug on the carpet. I can't raise my arm!
Pauline goes to her desk and picks up the handset of her landline phone. "We're ready for you."
"That was quick."
"Yes, I think you over estimated Frank's weight, Angela. Don't worry there's a bit of lee way with doses."
Two ladies in nurse's uniforms come in. One is pushing a wheel chair. My vision goes grey as they lift me from the chair to the wheelchair.
*************
I look down at my arm. The nurse is emptying a hypodermic into it. Where am I? Where's Angela and Doctor Butterfield?
She's wearing a white lab coat. Her red framed glasses are an old fashion retro style. Her brunet hair is short. Her lipstick red.
"Hello, dear." Subtle smile, soft voice. "Don't speak, just listen. You may call me 'Doctor'. I will oversee your transition therapy."
"What transition? The fuck you say? Let me out. Untie me right fucking NOW!"
"Tsk, tsk." She clucks. "Nurse."
"Yes Doctor."
Nurse pinches my jaw. "Ug!" she shoves a red ball gag into my mouth.
"Thank you Janet. Now. I told you not to speak. You WILL learn to obey.
"Now, as I was saying, your wife. What's her name?" She looks at the paper on her clipboard. "Angela. Yes, Angela has arranged for The Institute to transform you into her maid, slash, lesbian lover. Actually tranny lover. I guess she likes your little wewe. Huh?" She folds her clipboard under her arm. "Come, let's meet Matron." She holds the door as the nurse wheels me out.
Down the corridor and into an executive office. Dusty rose carpet. Couch to one side and several padded armchairs in front to a big polished cherry wood desk. A wall of glass behind the desk. Where are we? High above the street level. There's a wide river behind those buildings. Where the fuck are we?
The lady behind the desk has sharp features. Her blond hair is pulled back in a bun, Her nose is thin and so are her pink lips. She's wearing a white button down blouse. She stands and smiles down, then picks up a leash.
A tall man gets up from behind the desk. Muscular. He's naked except for a collar and boxers. They're of a pale blue see through material, and it's plain he's very well hung. He follows her on his leash.
She sits on the couch and pats her thigh. He sinks to the carpet and looks lovingly at her. She strokes his bald head and he rests his cheek on her thigh.
"Well, since she's restrained, I assume she's not here voluntarily."
"No, Matron." Doctor hands her the form from her clipboard.
She scans the form.
"Um. Oh, marriage counseling. Fifi, pretty name. Tell me, Fifi, are you a cross dresser?"
"Mgh, mgh." I shake my head 'no'. Why is she calling me 'Fifi' and why the fuck would I wear women's clothes? Did Matron call me 'she'?.
"Interesting. Take her to Mistress Karla for breaking."
*************
Across the hall to a lift. Down two floors.
Mistress Karla is a statuesque black woman. She locks a wide collar around my throat, then instructs her two black female helpers to untie me.
I jump to my feet, I'll run for it.
"Aaa!" I'm sprawled on the floor in excruciating pain.
"First lesson Fifi. The collar can drop you. So, stand up. NOW!"
I struggle to my feet.
"Strip. Everything. Socks and underwear too."
I comply.
"Says here 'full sporting'. No castration. Vasectomy first thing tomorrow. Here, put this on."
'This' is a pink hard plastic cock cage with a cup to hold my balls too. Everything has shrunk with so many people watching.
"Now these." A pair of extreme spike heel ankle strap shoes, with little padlocks on the straps.
"And your dress."
It's a pink floral print nylon. Around the ankle length hem is a pleated ruffle. The narrow hem restricts me to very short steps. The dress has short puff sleeves, and a zipper up the back from below my ass to just below my shock collar. 'click'. Her assistant locks the zipper closed.
Her other helper brings a belt. Pink leather with white satin ruffles top and bottom. hanging on short sashes are a pair of pink leather cuffs with the same white trim. She locks the belt around my waist, then the cuffs to my wrists. The sashes hold my hands below nipple height.
"Delly-Anne, show her where everything is. She can serve our before dinner wine."
After I serve their wine she says, "Who's turn is it?"
"Mine!"
"OK, go select one. Marla, prepare her."
"Come bitch, over the pony."
It's a three foot by one foot padded top thigh high bench. She unlocks my zipper and pulls it down, then spreads my dress so my back and ass are bare.
Smack! Delly-Anne lays into me with a rattan cane.
Smack!
Smack!
Smack! "Ghaa!"
Smack! "Ghaa!"
"Very good dear."
I'm zipped back up.
"More wine, Fifi." They finish their wine like nothing happened.
Tears run down my cheek and drool from my gagged mouth.
"Marla, remove her gag and dry her face. Then we better go to the dinning hall."
*********
"Chef, this is a new one. I'll leave her with you."
I noticed chef and his cooks were not collared. Interesting. But there were two maids, in black serving dresses who were. I smiled at them. "I'm Frank."
They both had panic in their expressions and one lifted a finger to her lips and shook her head 'no' violently.
Smack! Chef's steel spoon hits my cheek. "Shut the fuck up, bitch. You know the rules. Now get the salad served. NOW! Move it cunts."
Doctor, Matron, Mistress and her helpers, as well as several other ladies were spread around a bunch of tables.
After we cleaned the kitchen Mistress Marla leashed me. Mistress Karla and Mistress Delli-Anne leashed the other two, and led us to a communal bathroom.
We stripped. I had to pee. I lifted the seat.
Smack! My bottom was slapped by my own leash.
"What the fuck are you doing girl? Girly sluts sit to pee."
I lowered the seat and sat.
Cold showers, then we went to a big room with many windowless doors and a serving cart with three dishes of gruel and paper cups of water. I followed the other's example and picked up one of each. Then we were locked in our individual windowless cells for the night.
The bed was hard. The blanket smelly and scratchy, and the bright light never went out.
********
Days go by. Weeks or months maybe. I'm always tired. Always hungry. I've graduated to one of the maid's dresses and ballet boots that hurt my feet. Never a kind word. Only allowed to say "Yes Mistress" or "No Mistress". Whipped, caned or paddled at least once a day. Often gagged. I can't help it, I cry a lot.
***********
