Chapter 2 - There Will Come A Time
"There will come a time," Cristina says, with one boot against my throat and the other toying with the hem of my sissy maid skirt, "when this is considered the new normal."
Cristina is sitting on the sofa, with me lying on the ground, in what is by now the official position of our relaxation sessions. At this point, I feel like my brainpower is basically leaking out of my ears. Her voice, so soothing and feminine, so knowledgeable and authoritative, so wise and unyielding...
It lulls me into a numbness that leaves me basically unable to speak. All I can do is listen to the girls as they talk complicated girl stuff like the upcoming women's march, political issues, the latest movie scandal... all too complicated for simple boys like me.
I stick to the stuff that befits my gender. Which tea to serve, how to best massage a foot, how to spread my lips and be a good toe-warmer...
I must be quite the sight, lying prostrate on the ground in my sissy maid uniform and thigh highs, Cristina's boot firmly planted atop my throat in a universal sign of victory, her leash firmly held in hand.
To Angela, I used to be the boring but dependable friend who always had the right piece of advice. Now, it seems like she can't stop giggling, covering her hand with her mouth.
"You actually did it?" She asks. "This isn't a prank?"
"Of course she's actually done it," Jasmine says, in a voice that sounds far colder. To her, the person I was before was little more than an annoyance, a know-it-all to compete against for the best grades. She didn't best me as frequently and effortlessly as Cristina did, but now, she's eyeing me with the calculated stare of a reptile.
How could I ever consider myself the equal of a girl before?
Jasmine licks her lips. "How?"
"I'll show you," Cristina says in a friendly tone, while pressing the heel harder into my neck. "It's what you're here for, isn't it?"
From the corner of my eye, I see Angela and Jasmine nod, the latter more eagerly than the former. I wonder what they're talking about, exactly. What does Cristina plan to show them?
"Marcos, darling," she says, her heel digging deeper against the soft skin of my throat. "We're going to have one of our relaxation sessions."
"N-now?" I say, gulping, and not just for the constriction of the boot pressing against my adam's apple. Our sessions are so intimate, and we're not alone -- but then again these are girls, girls shouldn't be contradicted... but also I --
"Yes," Cristina says, in a tone that brooks no argument. "Now."
She doesn't need to ensure herself of my good behaviour. I'm thoroughly domesticated at this point, and immediately submit to her ministrations.
I'm only remotely aware of Angela and Jasmine gasping as Cristina's other boot lifts the hem of my frilly skirt, pressing against my tiny cockette through my panties. As always, my erection yields under the unbending strength of her boot sole. The symbolism isn't lost on me, even after my recent... simplification.
With one boot restricting my air flow, and the other rubbing my cockette back and forth, up and down, Cristina begins to speak.
Her words aren't directed at me, not this time. But I'm so many levels deep into this domestication that her droning is enough to make my eyes glaze over. I'm uncomfortably aware of the drool forming at the corner of my mouth, but very little could distract me from this gendered humiliation.
From the incredible pleasure that courses through me in waves with every stroke of her boot on my little male clit.
From the knowledge that I'm not her equal.
"The first thing you need to keep in mind," she says as I begin to pant, "is that mindfucking isn't the first step. You gotta work on the subject first. Dear Marcos here was going nowhere with his career..."
And then, looking down at me, her eyes meeting mine, she adds for my benefit, "because he was always destined to be a housewife! Haha!"
I start humping her boot in response, my hips rising to meet her strokes, which sends Angela and Jasmine in a fit of laughter.
"In all seriousness," Cristina says, "he was already insecure. I cleverly leveraged that, manipulated him, widened the chink in his armor until it was wide enough. Then I mindfucked him."
"But what if I want to make a smart guy go under? Not a dumb one like him?" Angela asks.
The completely casual tone with which she refers to me as dumb sends a pang of guilt and embarassment through me -- Angie, of all people, is calling me dumb. But is she wrong? Here I am, on the floor, in a maid uniform, getting bootfucked into docility by the girl that used to be my roommate.
Then again, of course Angie is the one asking this question. I doubt she often feels like the smartest person in a room.
"All men have weaknesses," Cristina says, her voice immediately dragging me back down into the swirling abyss of mindlessness, "you just need to find them an exploit them."
"To be fair, this loser's were obvious," Jasmine says, with the casual cruelty that used to turn me off her -- and now instead just makes my cockette twitch and stiffen even harder, under Cristina's brutal massage.
"The clincher is physical stimulation," Cristina says, punctuating her words with soft, long strokes of my cock that make me shiver from head to toe. Were it not for her training, I would have cum already. But I know men should be prim and proper and ask girls for permission before they can feel true pleasure.
"I started with shoulder massages, but really, do whatever is context-appropriate. You already have a few sample texts for the induction, but the key is to make it specific to your victim. Never forget that."
Angela and Jasmine nod above me -- they've gotten closer at some point, and are now towering above me like divine beings, shrouded in the light of the window behind them.
"May we?" Angela asks, hesitant.
She doesn't need to be more specific than this.
"There's a strict free use policy in this household," Cristina says, throwing me a self-satisfied smirk as I buck and thrash on the floor, forever chasing a climax she keeps denying me. "Marcos can't say no. Not to girls."
"You know," Jasmine says with a laugh, "this is all rather... un-feminist of us. I wonder what the others at the march would think if they knew we're doing this."
For a moment, my brain crashes, and my thoughts twirl into one another, tangling and slowing down, down, down... Cristina has drilled into me that these are the right gender roles. Is Jasmine disagreeing? Cristina can't be wrong. Oh, but neither can Jasmine. This is a, uh, what's the word... I swear I knew it once, it's like, when two things are both impossible and... uhm...
"Women's liberation," Cristina says, her heel twisting so deep into my cockette that I have to withhold a scream of pain, "isn't the same as gender equality. We'll keep this skill to ourselves of course, for now, but..."
"There will come a time," Jasmine continues, kicking off her sneakers. "I hear ya, sis. But I do believe my time is now."
