	             ____________________________
                    |                            |
                  /)|     KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF    |(\
                 / )|         DIRECTORIES        |( \
              __(  (|____________________________|)  )__
             ((( \  \ >  /_)              ( \  < /  / )))
             (\\\ \  \_/  /                \  \_/  / ///)
              \          /                  \          /
               \      _/                     \_       /
                /    /                         \     \
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o  	The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of  o
o  stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the  o
o  world.  Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups).   There is no  o
o  particular  order  other than offering them to you in  alpha-  o
o  betical directories.                                           o
o  	I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to  o
o  be typed therefore I don’t type things myself."  I think it’s  o
o  a lot more fun to browse around and find  'little'  surprises  o
o  that you might not have even thought of looking for.           o
o   	Lest we forget!!!   This story was produced as adult en-  o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors.   Kristen         o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

On Becoming Gretchen - 4 (tg)
by Amelia Allbyte

*

Chapter Four

"It's time you started learning how to present a proper feminine
appearance and acquaint yourself with your duties as my maid. You
can start by taking a bath. I'll accompany you to insure that you
prepare it correctly."

We went into the tub, not the ornate luxurious room adjoining
Miss Irene's bedroom, but into the room adjoining the one I slept
in. Although smaller and not quite as elaborate as the other, it
was nevertheless well furnished in a dainty feminine style. I did
note that, as in the other room also, that there were provisions
for infants here also.

She watched as I ran the water. Under her direction, I liberally
applied bath salts and bubble bath under the flowing water. As
ordered, I removed all of my clothes. As I did so, Miss Irene
watched carefully for any signs of arousal. Fortunately for me,
there was none.

After I finished bathing, and while still sitting in the tub, she
again manacled my hands behind me. "Okay, you just lay there and
soak awhile. Don't masturbate. I'm going to lay out your clothes.
I'll be back in a bit." Taking the clothes I had been wearing,
she left, closing the door behind her.

I don't know how she thought I could masturbate with my hands
chained behind me.

She returned a bit later and removed the cuffs. I dried myself
off with a nice thick fluffy towel. The sweet perfumed odor of
the bath salts still clung to my now dry and tingling body.

Miss Irene then led me back to her bedroom where my clothes were
laid out on the bed. There was a lacy pair of pink panties with a
matching lace bra and slip. Without even being told, I began
putting them on. I still needed a bit of assistance putting on my
bra and inserts. To digress a moment, the inserts were filled
with a heavy gel-like material that had the weight and feel of a
natural breast. When they were inserted into my bra cups, they
seemed to cling to my chest and react to my body movement, even
to the point of having a realistic bounce.

The slip was a new experience for me. Unlike the nightgown, it
fit snugly about my body, making me fully aware of its presence.
Its sleek coolness and the feel of the lacy hem dancing across my
hairless thighs sent tingles up and down my spine. Next came the
panty hose, sheer and silky. I looked at Miss Irene; her face was
expressionless. I knew that I had better not mess this up.
Fortunately, I didn't. I drew the clinging material over my toes
and heels, up my hairless legs, and on up and over my hips. Now
the slip tingled, but the panty hose- ! The taut feeling about my
legs and thighs, the delicate constriction of my hips and crotch
was just indescribable. No wonder girls liked to dress up!

I then slid my feet into my shoes. They fit perfectly. Now, Miss
Irene and I were of nearly the same size, so I presumed the
clothes she was giving me were hers; but I thought it quite a
coincidence that we both wore the same size shoes.

In any event, I slipped them on. They were black open-toed pumps
with about a three-inch spiked heel. "I gave you those mules with
the two-inch heels to get you used to wearing heels. You should
adapt to these quite easily," Miss Irene noted.

I then put on the dress Miss Irene had chosen, a maid's uniform,
really. It was not like those scanty French maid outfits one sees
in sex magazines; rather, it was a no-nonsense work uniform,
although quite feminine and attractive. It had short puffed
sleeves, a belted waist, full-flared petticoated skirt and a
white starched pinafore apron, tied in the back with a large bow.

She then led me over to the dressing table and began applying
makeup. As she applied it, she cautioned me to pay attention. In
the future I would be expected to do this for myself. Completing
the task to her satisfaction, she went over to the closet and
came back with a wig, which, coincidentally, was the exact same
shade as my own hair. She put it on my head and spent a few
moments brushing it out. Finally, she stopped, looked me over and
nodded her head in satisfaction, and asked, "Well, would you like
to see what you look like as my feminized maid?"

Do fish swim? You bet I wanted to see what she had done to me.

I jumped up and made for the full-length mirror, then almost
twisted my ankle and fell. Those three-inch spiked heels with a
base of less than a half an inch were a far cry from the two inch
heels on the pumps. However, I quickly discovered that the basic
technique was the same. Only now my steps had to be shorter and
more precise.

"If you would point your toes straight ahead and kind of walk
like you were on a tightrope, you should rather easily and
quickly develop a more feminine style of walking," Miss Irene
commented to my retreating back.

I wasn't paying to much attention to her words; I was busy
staring at my reflection. From what I saw, I could easily pass as
a girl. Maybe not a beautiful one, but still fairly attractive.
My hair, which I had always thought of as a nondescript blonde,
was another matter when lengthened and brushed out. It fell in
soft waves, almost to my shoulders. There appeared to be tiny
glints of gold shining through it when the light struck it in a
certain way.

My eyes were gray and rather wide set. Miss Irene had accented
them with mascara, eye shadow, eye liner, and painfully arched
and emphasized eyebrows. My lips were colored a full red and were
glossed to a luscious sheen. Finally, my high cheekbones were
shaded and lightly colored to draw attention to me eyes.

All in all, my face was quite attractive with an open kind of
innocent expression. My body didn't look bad either; by
necessity, I had skipped a few meals. I had kept pretty trim in
my waist and my tummy was lean and flat. The inserts in my bra
gave a perfect swelling in the bosom, and the high-heeled pumps
put a perfect taper in my legs and calves.

I pranced and pirouetted, looking at myself from all angles while
Miss Irene smiled indulgently as one does to a child with a new
dress.

"You do look quite acceptable, Gretchen. We'll finish up with the
details later this evening."

"Details? What details?"

"Why, paint your fingernails and toenails and pierce your ears,
for some examples. I'm still leaning toward getting you breast
implants until you can grow your own. I guess I'll talk to
Mistress Circe about it."

"Paint my nails? Pierce my ears? Grow my own breasts? Why do you
want to do all that stuff when you are going to let me go in just
a few days after I act as your maid for your party?"

"I told you before, I never promised to let you go right away. I
only told you that if you agreed I wouldn't report you to the
authorities. Now, we'll discuss what happens later at another
time. All I'll say now is that you should prepare yourself to
stay a while."

"Why, you can't do that! You can't keep me here against my will."

"I can do any damned thing I want to with you, and do it for as
long as I please. Don't forget that. No one knows you're here,
and I doubt that anyone really cares."

"Now you have a house to clean, so get with it."

"I'll be damned if I will," I said. "I'm not going to do a damned
thing until you promise to let me go as you said."

Miss Irene just looked at me and sighed. "I just knew it would
eventually come to this. Well, if you need a demonstration, then
you shall have one." She got up and went over to a bureau,
reached into one of the drawers, and returned, carrying the quirt
in her hand.

She approached me, and I began backing away but tripped, not
being used to the high-heeled shoes. She reached down, grabbed my
by my wrist and forced me to my feet. With no apparent effort,
she twisted my arm way up behind my back, forcing to me to bend
over helplessly.

She marched me over to the bed, sat down, and forced me to lay
across her lap. Laying the quirt down on the bed beside her, she
raised my dress and slip. She then pulled down my panties and
hose, leaving my bottom exposed to the world.

Picking up the quirt, she began whipping me. I squirmed, I
struggled, all to no avail. Meanwhile, she was vigorously
applying the braided quirt to my bare bottom. I began swearing,
but that didn't help, so I began pleading, almost crying. The
pain was really becoming quite severe. It had no effect on my
tormentor. She kept laying down the quirt where she felt it would
do the most good.

Finally, exhausted, I gave up the struggle and lay whimpering and
quiescent across her lap as she continued with the whipping. Once
I gave up the struggle, she ceased. "Do we have an understanding
that you are my feminized maid and will do as I say? I can
continue this all day. It doesn't hurt me a bit."

"You win," I moaned. "I'll do anything you say, just let me up."

She gave me one last vicious whack and then released me. "Now
pull up your panties and straighten your dress!"

Gently and as delicately as I could, I pulled my panties and hose
up over my tender bottom and pulled down my slip, fluffing out my
skirt so that it again hung neatly.

She arose from sitting on the bed and stood facing me. "Now,
curtsy for me and say that you are sorry for questioning my
authority, and that you will obey me in the future."

All thoughts of rebellion were erased by the pain in my bottom.
My only thought was to appease this iron hard female who looked
so lovely, innocent, and delicate. I made an attempt at a curtsy
and said, "I'm sorry I questioned your authority, Miss Irene. I
will obey all of your orders in the future."

"Just don't forget this mild lesson. I can do this anytime I
wish, and if I think it necessary, I have a room where I can hang
you from the ceiling and lash you with a real whip until you get
the message that I am your superior."

I inwardly shuddered. After this last fiasco, I knew she could
and would do it if she thought it was necessary or if she just
had the notion to discipline me severely.

