The blessing for the wedding goes ahead and Michelle gets an invitation to become a hair stylist in New York.

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Yeah!! In yer face an' having one hell of a wild time. Long live Sparkle, long live Manchester!

The Sissy farm.
Chapter 24.

List of Characters.

Me. Michelle A Natural transvestite sissy.
Janice My Younger sister
Aunty Bev Janice and My mother’s Sister.
Mistress Janet Headmistress of the young lady’s academy
Doctor Shirley Williams. My endocrinologist.
Miranda. A very effeminate Sissy sales assistant.
Miss Stern Miranda’s mistress who owns the shop.
Peregrine. AKA. Uncle Penny. My transvestite uncle. (Aunty Bev’s brother.)
James AKA. Auntie Jamie Peregrine’s Partner. (Soon to inherit his/her fathers earldom.)
Victoria An older RG friend of mine.
Jemima Victoria’s sissy brother.
Portia Victoria’s mummy.
Julia My dining companion and mentor at Mistress Janet’s Academy.
Sophia and Angelica Victoria and Jemima’s friends.
Delilah & Nancy My ex Attackers.
Davinia. Sissified Gypsy naughty boy once called David
John and Simone Davinia’s older gypsy brother and sister,
Isobel and Sally, The two youngest gypsy sisters.
Uncle Arnold Earl Weston’s odious younger brother.
Cousin William Arnold’s son and Auntie Jamie’s first cousin.
Elaine William’s wife.
Jeanette. William’s daughter, (who fancies Julia like crazy.)
Josephine & Persephone Jeanette’s younger twin sisters.

Nearly everybody in the house was up before dawn that Saturday morning. My services were in demand by all the bride’s maids as everybody wanted their hair touched up and checked out to be just perfect for the wedding. This all had to be done before ten o’clock because a professional hairdresser was coming to the house to do Aunties’ Beverly and Jamie’s hair. I was required to be on hand to learn some new tricks and techniques because the hairdresser was a famous stylist from New York. Auntie Beverly had emailed him some photographs of my work and he had agreed that I showed promise. To this end I was invited to be his assistant during the session. I was thrilled. However, until ten o’clock, I was as busy as all hell putting the finishing touches to twenty girls and sissies who were all naturally in a high state of excitement. By ten thirty I was shattered and slumped at the breakfast table hardly able even to face a glass of orange juice after a small piece of toast and some scrambled egg. I was still in my ordinary work frock as Aunties Beverly and Jamie arrived in the breakfast room each on the arm of the old earl.

“Aren’t your dressed yet darling?” Wondered Auntie Beverly.

“I’ve been too busy. When’s Andre the hair-dresser coming?”

“He’s just phoned. He’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

I smiled a little wearily and just nodded as I finished my orange juice and slumped back in my chair. Before I realised it I was asleep at the table.

“Good god!” Mumbled old Earl Weston. “The poor little darling is shattered. You’ve been overworking her!”

Auntie Beverly came to my chair and studied me carefully.

“She’s just tired with all the excitement. Besides, she’s enjoyed all the hair dressing. Give her a few minutes and she’ll be OK.”

Earl Weston harrumphed his concern and finished his egg. Nobody was eating much in anticipation of the wedding breakfast. Indeed only the earl and I had eaten anything.

Eventually there was a commotion in the hall and Auntie’s Beverly and Jamie fussed about as Andre arrived. Earl Weston gently tapped me on the shoulder and bent down to smile encouragement to me.

“Waky-waky, sleepy head, the hair-dresser’s arrived.”

I stirred and yawned then realised I had been sleeping.

“Oh gosh. Have I missed him?”

Old Earl Weston smiled and bent down to kiss me gently on the forehead.

“No, no darling. Don’t worry. They’re still setting up all the paraphernalia. I didn’t realise just how much fuss there was to ladies hair. I made them let you sleep a little longer. I explained to Andre. He’s very impressed with the work you’ve done for the bride’s maids. Go in now, Andre is just discussing styles. I believe that’s an important part isn’t it?”

I gasped as I realised that they had started the most important bit. Aunty Bev and I had discussed styles all week and I didn’t want to miss Andre’s thoughts. I stumbled passed my adoptive great uncle to be and burst into the morning room where Andre had set up shop.

He smiled as I arrived gasping for breath.

“Sorry I’m late. Sorry!”

He smiled again and nodded as Aunties Jamie and Beverly sat studying his style books.

“Not to worry young lady. I’ve already seen how much you’ve done today. You’ve been a busy little miss. Well done. The bride’s maids look excellent. You’re good.”

I sighed and relaxed as he put me at ease. For an acolyte to arrive late at the master’s workbench was an unforgivable sin. Thus reassured he led me to the brides and we fell to discussing styles. Auntie Beverly expressed her wishes and described how she and I had been discussing stuff all week. Andre smiled and studied our favoured choices then we all agreed upon a style that I had secretly fancied all week. I felt a very private visceral thrill that I had been in agreement with Andre’s suggestion but I kept my counsel. It wouldn’t do to appear as though I approved Andre’s suggestion but I was secretly ecstatic that we had the same ideas. For the rest of the session, I eagerly danced attention as Andre set to work.

By twelve o’clock Aunties Beverly and Jamie looked a picture and I sighed enviously as I turned to clear up the mess. To my surprise Andre turned to me and grinned.

“So who’s going to do you hair young miss?”

“I, - I’ll, - I’m going up to my bedroom to sort it out.”

“Don’t be silly my little sweetheart. Let this be my treat. Why shouldn’t your hair be as lovely as everybody else’s?”

My eyes widened with surprised delight as I turned gratefully to Auntie Bev. I had been wondering about my own hair and concluded that mine would have to be a bit of a self-made, rush job. Auntie Beverly wagged her head.

“It wasn’t my idea Bev, Andre’s suggested it. You’ve been a star this morning so you deserve a special treat.”

My eyes widened even further with delight. To have earned so much praise from a veritable international grand-master of the tonsorial arts was praise indeed.

My heart thumped with delight as he motioned me into his chair while his scissors snipped industriously in the air to indicate his preparedness. To have the great Andre actually doing my hair was the best thank you Auntie Beverly could have made. Both the brides left as Andre set to on my hair and we chatted contentedly. He pointed out a few things about caring for my hair as he chuckled.

“Your hair’s a lovely colour and type but I think you’ve been neglecting it a bit haven’t you.”

“There’s nobody to do it for me. I do everybody else’s but I’m afraid it’s cobbler’s children walking ill shod, for me.”

“We’ll let this be my treat then. I’ll make it an easy style to maintain and I’ll go through it as I work.”

Thus we chatted and chuckled as Andre busied himself away and I lay back with my eyes closed contentedly prepared to not bother looking until Andre was ready. Eventually, the scissors had stopped and Andre put down the blower.

“You can look now.”

Nervously I opened my eyes and gasped at the creation. It was just so simple and yet fantastic. I simply wanted to hug Andre for ever and ever. For a brief moment tears of joy betrayed my elation and Andre asked solicitously.

“Don’t you like it?”

“Why yes! Yes! Yes! Of course I like it. It’s just super. And it’s so simple. I mean the way it sets off my forehead and yet, and yet, it doesn’t make me look like an egg-head, a highbrow. It’s just super. I, - I love these curls. Will I have to keep setting them with the curlers?

“That’s about the only bit of work that will need any attention. The rest of it just falls naturally over your shoulders. You’ve got lovely hair Michelle. It’s so long and silky and straight. Even if you decide to take those two ringlets out they will simply add to the rest of the natural fall of your hair. You’ve got a beautiful head of hair. It’s just so full of bounce and sheen. Can I take a photograph?”

“What for?”

“To put in my style portfolio. Here see.”

He stepped across to a laptop computer and promptly showed me a whole series of hairstyles. I quickly recognised the famous models and squeaked with surprise.

“But, they’re proper models, I mean, why d’you want, -?”

“You’ve got a model’s looks Michelle. You could be one of those girls. You’ve got the figure for it and your face has a classic beauty.”

“But, - but Andre! I’m a sis, - I’m a sissy! I mean, - what would people say?”

“Don’t put yourself down so much darling. You’re a stunning looker. I mean I fancied you as soon as you came through that door looking all harassed and weary after doing nineteen other girl’s hair. It’s a pity you’re a sissy though. Otherwise, I could really fancy you.”

I swallowed hard. I had naturally assumed that Andre was gay, now he had stunned me by revealing that he was a straight as a die.

“But I thought you, - you were g, - g, - gay!”

“Wrong on that one Michelle. I like girls and I get to meet all the famous beautiful ones. Are you gay?”

His direct question caught me off balance for a moment. I wasn’t gay, I was just a sissy. I like girls, in fact I liked them so much I wanted to emulate them in everything, but as to my sexual orientation, well, the plain truth was that I was a heterosexual, transvestite sissy.

I loved girls and being a sissy gave me a splendid opportunity to enjoy every aspect of girls’ companionship and friendship. I really hoped to become Simone’s sissy and her partner for life.

I know this was a bizarre perspective but the idea of serving Mistress Simone in every intimate detail of our shared life was simply my whole ambition. That’s what sissies wanted, well; - that’s what this sissy wanted and I knew for a fact that that was what Joanne and Julia wanted. They had made their sexuality abundantly clear. I finally spluttered out my answer to Andre.

“N, - no! I’m not gay. I’m just a sissy. I like girls.”

“Yes, that’s what your auntie Beverly told me. I cant quite get my head around it but I know it takes all sorts. Well, if you ever want to study under me, you’re welcome to come and work at my New York Salon.”

“I’d love to but I’d have to get all sorts of permissions from my Auntie Beverly and from Simon; and I’d have to leave school, - and I’d need a work permit, a green card.”

“Well, the offer stands. You’re a talented hair stylist and I’d love to have you under my wing for a few years. Some of those styles you did with the bride’s maids were very creative. One or two of them would have tested my skills they were so unfortunately ugly. Give me a bell if you ever decide to come over to New York. I know you’re still young yet but I can wait.”
I sat stunned at Andre’s generous offer.

“You mean, I don’t have to say now, I can let it wait a bit?”

“Take as long as you like. Talent like your is hard to come by. You’ve got the gift; - the touch. Now you’d better go and get dressed or you’ll miss the wedding.”

I looked at the clock and squealed with fright.

“Oh my God. I’ve got to go, I’m late!”

Andre chuckled and held the door open for me as I scurried towards my room.

“Look there goes the minibus with the other bride’s maids; I’ll give you a lift to the church.”

I shouted my thanks even as I burst into my room and dived into my bride’s maid’s gown. Within minutes I was ready and Andre grinned as I re-emerged like a butterfly emerging from it’s cocoon.

“Well that was quick, you’re good Michelle, you’re really good. And not too much makeup either. Yes, you’re good.”

“Come on I’m late.”

Without further ado, we leapt into his car and sped down the drive to the church. It was only a couple of hundred yards but Victoria and Sophia gasped with relief as I finally arrived. Victoria was maitre-de for all the bride’s maids and she had been fretting nervously until I finally appeared.

“Well thank God! Where the hell have you been? Oh! Your hair looks lovely. Did you do that?”

“Uuhh no.” I conceded. “How could I do something like this to myself?”

Victoria’s eyes widened with curiosity.

“Did Andre do it?

“Uuhh, yes.”

“Ahh that’s not fair. He could have done ours as well.”

“Well truthfully there wasn’t time after Aunties’ Bev and Jamie. I was going to do my own but Andre did it for me as a treat. He said it’s a way of saying ‘thank you’ for helping out with all the other bride’s maids and helping with Aunties’ Bev and Jamie.

“Aahh. That’s not fair; trust you to get the master.”

“I didn’t ask. He just offered. I was going to do my own but he absolutely refused to hear of it.”

“Huh! Some people get all the luck. Anyway here’s your bouquet. Quickly now, go and join the others in the vestry.”

As I skipped into the vestry I could see both Victoria and Sophia eyeing my hair enviously but I was quickly involved in lining up to assist the brides with their trains. Then the music struck up and we were marched out to meet the brides as they arrived and to assist with their trains in the churchyard outside the main porch before entering the church. Auntie Beverly’s relatives assisted with her train while Auntie Jamie’s relatives assisted her and the unrelated girls went as directed by Victoria as she and Sophia concluded the procession. To my surprise instead of simply marching down the aisle to the alter, both brides stopped to chat with friends and savour the occasion as we all got to enjoy the portent of the occasion. It helped to improve the mood of the occasion whilst also increasing the build up of excitement. We bride’s-maids soon got into the mood and we had a delicious time chattering to family members who seemed to have sprung out of the woodwork upon learning of Jamie Weston’s sudden and unexpected decision to confirm and bless his union and finally taking a partner. The news that the transvestite, bisexual Jamie was to dress in a bridal gown matching that of his bride had sent the tribal tom-toms thundering through the titled classes of England. Just about any individual who had the remotest connection to Earl Weston’s family had sought to get an invitation to what had become the county wedding of the year. For Janice and me however, the strangest site was to see Uncle Penny dressed as a ‘sister of the bride’ as she escorted Auntie Beverly down the aisle.

To our delight, the mood amongst the congregation was entirely supportive except of course for Earl Weston’s younger brother Arnold and his odious son William. They simply stared fixedly towards the alter as the bridal couple approached. Janice and I sensed their feelings of supposed aggrievement for we were next to each other on the inside of the two bridal trains and we were free to chat.

“They looked pretty pissed of,” I whispered to Janice.

“So would you if you knew that you stood to lose a huge inheritance not to mention a title.”

“D’you think they’ll make a fuss or something; you know, when Vicar Rachel asks ‘if anybody here objects to the blessing’?”

“Naa-ah,” shrugged Janice dismissively, “It’s all legal, and it’s a fait accompli. Auntie Jamie’s already married to Auntie Beverly. That’s what their wedding certificate says and that’s how it is. Besides, Auntie Jamie’s already got Auntie Bev up the duff, what more proof d’you want?”

I started to giggle and Auntie Beverly turned around to smile at me as she stopped chatting to some long lost cousin of Auntie Jamie’s.

“What’s the joke Michelle?”

“Oh nothing Auntie, Janice and I were just looking at Cousin William and his dad. They look really pissed!”

“Well they can’t do anything” Auntie Bev assured me, “fifty years ago they might have been able to claim that our babies were illegitimate or something but today, DNA can confirm their legitimacy. The twins are Jamie’s you can be sure.”

“That’s why the greedy sods look so pissed,” I grinned.

“They won’t do anything anyway, Elaine’s got them hogtied over a barrel. If they spoil her daughters’ big day as bride’s maids to Cousin Jamie she’s sworn to divorce William. I think their marriage is pretty shaky anyway, William’s a bully.”

“Touch锝 finished Janice as Auntie Bev finally got a discreet nod from Vicar Rachel to get a move on towards the alter.

With this instruction both ‘brides’ picked up the pace and we slowly proceeded down the aisle. However I noticed Uncle William’s eyes slide shiftily onto me and I shuddered involuntarily. His sly look had a distinctly predatory slant and I recognised it.
Finally we arrived at the alter and the ‘brides’ knelt to take the blessing. Victoria and Sophia fussed about with the trains to make a clever heart shaped design on the floor with the trains as the rest of us bride’s-maids moved well to either side of the alter rail to let the whole congregation get a good view of the proceedings. Several people gasped in the audience as the shimmering material created a perfect heart behind the kneeling pair. As I stood transfixed by the continual shimmering I smiled as I realised that Victoria, Sophia, Angelica and Jemima were discreetly reflecting the scattered, brightly coloured summer sunlight from the stained glass windows with little mirrors previously hidden in their posy bags. The shiny silver threads that were shot through the satin and silk made the material glitter as different coloured shafts of light were haphazardly redirected by the four senior bride’s-maids. We younger bride’s maids were enchanted by the display but it soon ended. Vicar Rachel did not want the spectacular display to detract from the solemnity of the proceedings and after a brief interlude, the senior bride’s maids deftly slipped their mirrors back into their little posy bags. The blessing ceremony finally began.

I was pleasantly surprised when Vicar Rachel used the traditional Episcopal Anglican blessing and pleased that Auntie’s Beverly and Jamie had agreed to it. Jamie was asked to confirm Beverly as ‘his wife’ and repeat her marriage promises while Beverly was asked to renew her vows to Jamie as ‘her husband’. At the time I thought it was a capitulation but when I asked Vicar Rachel about it later she explained that it made the union legally tighter.

“You see Michelle, if anybody tries to have the marriage annulled or declared illegal, they cannot. You’re Auntie Jamie is well aware of her Uncle Arnold’s objections so we decided to go down the conventional route for the purposes of protecting your aunties and their children. Nobody can charge me or the church with conducting an illegal service.”

“Won’t the fact that they were both dressed as brides affect it?” I pressed.

“Good gracious no darling,” chuckled Vicar Rachel as she bent down to kiss my forehead affectionately, “the church makes no laws about how the couple dress to get married. I know there are old biblical constraints about apparel for men and women but that is ‘Old Testament’ stuff. If we were bound by those laws, then we could also sell our daughters into slavery or prostitution. I won’t wear that sort of abuse of women so I don’t hold much with the Old Testament. That’s the God of hellfire and damnation, not the god of love and understanding. The church has moved on a lot; how do you think I got to be a priest?”

“At the wedding breakfast, I took a lot of comfort from Vicar Rachel’s words for I suppose I was subconsciously considering my own uncertain future. After these reassurances I rejoined the other bride’s-maids and chatted contentedly with Simone. Naturally the conversation was all about marriage and relationships between Sissies and their future mistresses. As Jeanette joined us she was enormously curious about sissies and Mistress Janet’s academy.

She was even more intrigued when her newfound sissy boyfriend Julia had to slip away for her midday milking. As Julia and I made our excuses to leave, Jeanette’s eyes widened with curiosity and Julia and I immediately recognised the unrequited curiosity in Jeanette’s demeanour.

“Oh all right then, come and watch if you must,” grinned Julia, “I suppose if you are to be my mistress, then you’ll have to understand that there are certain constraints attached to my super-milker condition.”

“Does Michelle have to be milked as well?” Asked Jeanette.

“Uuhm, no,” I replied, “Only Julia’s a super milker.”

“Why’s that then?” Pressed Jeanette.

“I like having big tits and sensitive nipples.” Jeanette giggled as she surreptitiously hefted the cup of her hand under Julia’s breast and gently ‘weighed’ it.

“Mmmm. They are quite full and firm, aren’t they?”

“Stoppit!” Squeaked Julia, “people will see, and you’re not my mistress yet!”

“I’d like to be. How long will I have to wait?”

“You’ll have to come to the final year auction and speak with Mistress Janet. She always likes to check out any ordinary girls who haven’t been pupils at her academy. If she’s happy about a budding relationship then you’ll probably win the bidding at the auction but if she disapproves, then there always seems to be somebody who can outbid you.”

“It sound as if the auctions are fixed,” protested Jeanette.

“They probably are.” Conceded Julia as we stepped out through the graveyard side-gate and made our way across the private parkland to Earl Weston’s Large House. There was a narrow tarmac path so our shoes would not get muddy.

Unfortunately we hadn’t spotted Uncle Arnold secretly following us back to the house. He must have overheard our conversation at the blessing breakfast.

As we walked across the park we had to pass through a small dense copse of trees surrounded by smaller May trees still in blossom. I was enchanted to see that the dense May blossom was out so I decided to collect a few tiny sprigs and decorate our hair when we returned to the blessing breakfast. I thought it would give the blessing an additional, rustic festive air.

“You two carry on and get the equipment ready,” I declared as I reached up to examine some blossom.

Jeanette and Julia resumed crossing the park as I stepped deeper into the thicket to select some better blossom. It was then that the vicious Uncle Arnold seized his opportunity. Crossing from the blind side behind the copse, he dashed into the surrounding thicket of May trees and seized me just as I was reaching up to select a perfect cluster of blossoms. I screamed as I felt his powerful hands grab me from behind and flip up the hem of my long bride’s maids dress over my head. This trapped both my arms inside the skirt of the dress and I was helpless as I felt his rough, horny hands burrowing up under my corset. This time however, unlike that time in the park in Richmond my corset wasn’t of the full panty style. It was more like a waist cincher and that gave Uncle Arnold unrestricted access to my pretty pantied bum. In what seemed like an instant, I felt his disgusting organ probing at my virginal sissy hole but I couldn’t make any noise because his hand had the skirt of my gown jammed in my mouth. I tried bighting but he cruelly wrenched my slender neck around and I felt as if it had been broken. I ceased screaming immediately for to be raped was better than having one’s slender, delicate neck broken. Within another moment I felt his brutal thrust tear into my body and I almost feinted with pain. As I slumped with shock he snarled.

“What’s the matter you filthy little sissy. Isn’t this what you like?”

There was no way I could answer and there was no way I could resist his powerful grip as he repeatedly thrust into me and his disgusting breath panted with exertion.

Finally he let out a groan of relief and I felt his revolting seed force it’s way deep into my sissy hole before he dropped me like a rag doll and turned and fled.

It had all happened in such a short time that I was too dazed and shocked to stand, let alone call out for help. I was still sobbing on my muddied knees when Jeanette and Julia finally came looking to find me.

“Oh my God! What happened to you?” Squealed Jeanette.

“What d’you think has happened?” Riposted Julia, “can’t you see she’s been raped! Look at the blood around her arse!”

I was till too shocked to respond so the others helped me to my feet and got me to the house were Jeanette called the police instead of the family at the church.

Fortunately the local police force was alert to transphobic crimes and a compassionate forensic lady doctor took swabs from my bleeding, insulted sissy hole before even the police interviewed me as a first step towards legal action. After the samples had been taken the police woman then gently interviewed me and I was able to declare that I was sure it was Uncle Arnold because I had recognised his curses as he attacked me. A couple of plain clothes detectives visited the wedding breakfast and discreetly arrested him outside the wedding festivities just as he was driving away in his car. Unbelievably, he had returned to the wedding breakfast to create himself an alibi by pretending that he had never left the party. He had left the wedding feast in a blaze of publicity as a further move to reinforce his alibi. Indeed, he had been so quick in attacking me that nobody had actually missed him at the wedding breakfast and he would have got away with it. His alibi was destroyed however, for even though I had never seen who had attacked me I had recognised his snarling voice and the forensic evidence of his spent semen in and around my torn rectum finally sealed his fate. Furthermore when the police examined him there was still blood on his pubic hair and it was proven to be mine.

At the trial, despite Uncle Arnold’s lawyer’s attempts to discredit me and purvey me as some sort of perverted male prostitute, I won my case. Uncle Arnold was sent down for five years. The affair also caused the breakup of his son William’s marriage to Elaine.

Elaine had finally concluded that the brutal misogynistic misconduct of her father-in-law brought more shame upon her family and children than the existence of a sissy like Jamie.

A few months later, my twin Nephew and niece were born to my Auntie Beverly. Their father, Auntie Jamie and their paternal grandfather Old Earl Weston were beside themselves with joy. Rarely had a birth meant so much to so many. With his succession assured Earl Weston became a new man and I was surprised one morning in the school vacation to find Auntie Bev looking tearfully out of the huge bay window of the morning room.

“What’s wrong Auntie?” I asked tenderly.

She turned and smiled at me.

“Just look at that image darling. Have you ever seen such a happier, prettier picture?”

I followed her gaze to see Earl Weston slowly pushing the twins in a large wheeled, old fashioned, pram across the gravel forecourt. By his side was Morag who had become the Earl’s minder as old age and frailty began to catch up with him. To me it appeared as a picture of family bliss and I turned puzzled to Auntie Bev.

“It looks idyllic, so why are you so sad?”

Auntie Bev let out a snort of amusement.

“I’m not sad Petal, I’m happy!”

Squire Weston must have felt our eyes upon him for he turned, saw us in the window, grinned hugely and waved eagerly. Never had I seen a happier, more contented grandfather. My eyes began to fill up.

“D’you think he’ll live to see his grand-children grow up?” I asked my Auntie.

“Well he’s in his eighties now Petal. Who can say?”

“I’d like them to remember him, as he is now, sweet, old and doting.”

“Well he’d have to live into his nineties, we can wish.”

I decided to go and join him and his grandchildren as he strolled in the summer sunshine. It was one of the most memorable morning walks I had ever had and when I was ever home from the academy in the future I would join him on his daily constitutional.
It was during these walks with the grandchildren that he talked to me at length about the Weston family history and I became a de-facto depository of family lore. Squire Weston did live into his nineties, indeed he lived to be over a hundred!”

During those same summer vacations my relationship with Jeanette blossomed. Her mother Elaine had moved to be near the big house because despite Arnold and William being relatives of Earl Weston, Elaine recognised that they were the true black sheep of the family not the delightfully sweet, effeminate and transvestite Jamie. Personally I felt that Elaine might have had regrets about choosing the strong, handsome, macho William over the wholly effeminate, Jamie but it was too late now. Jamie was utterly enamoured of my Auntie Beverly precisely because she was attracted to Jamie’s femininity.

In those later years when I was at Mistress Janet’s academy, Earl Weston’s house almost became an ‘annexe’ of the school during the vacations It was not unusual to find up to twenty or even thirty past and present pupils staying over as house guests. It was also popular because the house was only a couple of hours from London and that included the London traffic. By train, London was just under an hour away to Victoria and that meant less than ninety minutes to Auntie Jamie and Uncle Penny’s hotel and club in Pimlico.

As I progressed up the school the regime appeared to me to be getting less arduous but the truth was my body was becoming acclimatised to sissydom. Tight corsets and other such sissyfication circumstances had become ‘the norm’. In our final year Janice and I decided to separate and live in separate studies. Although they were across the landing of the same school house. We were never far from each other either physically or emotionally. However it looked as though Janice was going to be paired with Joanna whilst I would be paired with Simone in the mistress / sissy word of adulthood. I had to admit, it seemed like an ideal set up to me. In the final year ‘auctions’ this proved to be the case and we finally graduated from the academy as happily attached couples.

Now it remained for us to follow our wishes and explore any careers that our aspirations and qualifications allowed.