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Lessons From My Cousin Heather (Femdom-teen)
From: Mule (mule@tpe.com)
(c) August 1999 

**

"Get me another drink, girl!" the woman said to me.

"Yes, madam," I replied in my politest tones as I accepted her
empty glass on my tray.

I moved through the room as gracefully as I could, picking up the
odd napkins and abandoned drinks as I made my way towards the
kitchen.

I stopped by the mirror in the hallway to make sure I was still
presentable. The image that stared back at me was the one of a
statuesque woman, made all the more loftier by the 4 inch heels
at the base of her 6 foot 2 inch frame.

I took stock of myself. Black stockings were still without runs
and the seam still ran perfectly up the back of my leg. The clips
of my garter belt just barely peeked out from under my short
black skirt. That was OK. That's the way it's supposed to be. My
pink apron and bib laid smoothly over the rest of the outfit,
every lace frill in its intricate loop. Even the pink maid's cap
was sitting perfectly atop my meticulously coifed hair.

My thoughts were rudely shattered by the voice of Stephanie, my
mistress, "Stop staring at yourself, and get back to work!" she
barked. It was important that I look absolutely perfect for her,
but it was even more important to obey her every order.

As I put the glasses into the sink, I looked out the window to a
park. I could see the playground where I watched a couple of
girls play earlier in the day, and my mind drifted back to how
this all began.

-=o=-

It was the summer of '75. That was the year my parents went to
Europe. Mom and dad were not having good luck with their
marriage, and dad was hoping that an extended vacation might
breathe some life back into the relationship. Since his company
had business in France and Germany, he decided to take mom along.

She took a leave of absence from her job, and they left the day
after I finished school.  I suppose that a 15-year old
sharing their bedroom is not what they had in mind in their quest
to recover the romance in their marriage. That's why I was left
behind.

I was left behind, but I was not left alone. I was shipped off to
my aunt Maggie's house. Aunt Maggie was my mother's brother's
wife. Was! They had been divorced for about six months at this
time. Although aunt Maggie was an in-law, the ties between her
and my mother were closer than between my mother and her own
sibling. I didn't blame mom. Uncle John was a real bastard. I'm
not quite sure I ever saw the man sober, and my cousin Heather
taught me how to avoid him whenever I visited. I was glad he was
out of the picture.

Heather is two and a half years younger than me. The theory
behind my staying at my aunt's house was that I needed some adult
supervision during the evenings, and Heather was just young
enough to need some supervision during the day. We weren't
exactly children, but there was no argument about safety in
numbers and the mutual support we could give one another.

My aunt worked all day, and went to school at night. Life was
tough on her, and I felt sorry for her. I didn't mind that part
of the arrangement was doing chores. Although my parents helped
her out financially during my stay, the poor woman had barely
enough time to keep her house together.

Heather and I celebrated her 13th birthday alone the day after I
arrived. Heather was a little screwed up. She had to put up with
a mother who was hardly ever there, and a father who it was
better when he wasn't there. Even though she was younger than me,
she was a lot more street wise. More street wise than any girl
should have been, in my opinion. I was raised in a more protected
environment, so I suppose I was more of a prude.

It should not have been a surprise when I caught her with a
drink. I don't know how she got the key to the liquor cabinet. I
didn't even know where auntie hid it. She pleaded with me not to
turn her in, but I didn't listen. I thought I was doing Heather a
favor when I told my aunt about it when she got home.

Something snapped. I had never seen my aunt in such a rage. Maybe
it was the years of living with an alcoholic -- maybe it was the
16and 18-hour days -- whatever it was, my aunt turned into a
different person. She grabbed Heather roughly by the arm and
pulled her into the living room. My aunt wrestled her daughter
onto the couch and threw her over her lap. I stood there in a
panic. I knew I had to do something, but I didn't know what. I
was in awe of the raw strength exhibited by my aunt.

My aunt started spanking my cousin. I could see dust coming from
Heather's shorts. Heather was crying and screaming. I could see
the mark on her arm where my aunt grabbed her. I could tell that
the shorts didn't offer much protection.

Eventually it was over. Sobbing, my cousin retreated to her room.
As she passed me, she shot me a venomous look. My aunt stormed up
the steps and slammed her door shut. I hid in my room.

-=o=-

I awoke early, and hungry as I was after missing dinner on the
previous evening, I was afraid to venture out to breakfast until
I was sure my aunt was gone. I watched her bus go by before I
opened my door. I wasn't the one who was in trouble, but I felt
so ashamed.

Heather was already at the table when I got to the kitchen. She
glared at me. "Good morning," I said. I got a better response
from the fern situated behind her than from Heather herself.

I got a cup of coffee and sat down opposite her. "Look, I'm sorry
I didn't know your mom would flip out like that. Besides, you're
a kid. You shouldn't be drinking."

"A kid?" she snapped. "A kid? What - do - you - know, you with
the rich parents? Look, I don't get shit. My old man used to beat
the crap out of me and mom. Mom doesn't care what the fuck I do.
My friends make fun of me. Their parents don't think I'm good
enough for them. I can't get no boyfriend. You don't know shit,"
she finished with a snarl.

I had a feeling I was dealing with a beaten dog. I stammered out
a, "I didn't know. Really."

"Well, that's good for you," she said hotly, but less
hysterically, "You don't know what it's like around here. The
things my dad did to me when he was drunk. Which was like always.
Mom knew. I'm sure of it. She didnt't say anything about it. I
think she was afraid that dad would beat her up again if she did.
She still won't talk about dad."

She started sobbing, "You don't know what it's like. You're not
safe anywhere. Not even in your own room. You can't do anything.
You're so helpless. They treat you like shit and then they throw
you away, and then they come back and fuck with you some more."

I didn't know what to say. My shock must have been evident as she
actually laughed, "What? You don't believe this stuff goes on? Oh
no, dad never actually fucked me. But he made me do other things.
He tried fucking me a couple of times, but he was so drunk, he
couldn't get it up. If I did what he wanted, I didn't get beat
up, and when I was done, if I was lucky and I could get him to
drink some more, he'd go to sleep and I'd be safe. I spent a lot
of time sleeping on the couch while the old man was passed out on
my bed."

She seemed to be gaining control of herself, but was still angry.
"Men!" It was a statement of frustration she just let hang in the
air for a while. "You guys, don't know how lucky you are. Nobody
fucks with you. What's worse, you don't even think about it. You
have it so fuckin' good, and you don't even appreciate it. Try
being a girl for once and see how you like it!"

She was pouring out her frustrations on me. "You don't know what
it's like. Guys looking at you, and you don't know if they really
like you or they want something else. Oh," she said in a huff,
"What's the use. You just don't understand. You can't you're a
boy."

I really was feeling guilty by this time. I wanted to assure her
that all boys weren't like this. "I know how you feel."

"Like shit you do!" she shot back. "As long as you're walking
around with a cock swinging between your legs, you'll never know
what it's like to be a girl."

Now it was my turn to get angry, "What do you want me to do?
Castrate myself?"

"No, but I bet you couldn't even get through one day as a girl."

"Well, I guess we'll never know now. Will we, Heather?"

She got a glint in her eye and answered, "Maybe we will. I have a
proposition."

"What kind of a proposition?"

"Suppose we switch roles."

"What?"

"Suppose we switch roles. I'll be the boy, and you be the girl.
I'll treat you the way boys treat me."

"You're crazy."

"I told you you couldn't understand. Now you don't even want to
try."

My conscience got the best of me, "OK, OK. What do I have to do."

"Nothing, just act like a girl."

"How do I do that."

"I don't know. Maybe I'll have to teach you a couple of things."


Heather took me upstairs to her mom's room.

"The first thing you're going to have to do is look like a girl."

"What?"

"Are you having a problem with your hearing, boy? I said, 'You'll
have to look like a girl.' We'll have to find some of mom's
clothes to fit you."

"No way! I'm not wearing a dress!"

"See, I told you. You're not really serious about this."

"Now wait..."

"No, you wait! I'll tell you what -- I'll take it easy on you --
this time. You can still wear your underpants, and we'll make do
with a simple skirt and blouse. Look, we won't go anywhere.
Nobody will see you. We'll just do it here. It will be our
secret. OK?"

I couldn't believe I was agreeing to this, but I heard myself
say, "OK."

Heather went through her mom's closet and drawers. She held a few
items up against me, shook her head and returned them to where
she got them. She finally found what she wanted. It was a pink
sleeveless blouse, and a gray pleated skirt. She handed them to
me and said, "Get dressed."

I stood there in silence. She expected me to strip down to my
shorts with her watching! I took her dare and did it. She sat in
an overstuffed chair, legs crossed, and casually watched me. I
was shy enough to turn my back to her as I lowered my pants.

I could feel myself blushing as I heard her say, "Nice ass!" I
was about to protest, but then I realized that I've heard some of
my friends say the same thing about girls.

Heather helped me with getting into my feminine clothes. I had no
idea that zipping a zipper up the back could be so difficult.
Likewise, I had all the grace of a 3-year old when it came to
buttons than closed "backwards."

Fortunately, my aunt was "wide-bodied" enough for her clothes to
fit me. The only thing was that everything was several inches too
short. The skirt, which was just-above-the-knee on her, was
nearly a mini on me.

Heather actually giggled, and I blushed. "Wait here," she said,
and went off to get something from her room. She returned with a
headband for my hair.

Then she did something that made my heart sink. She picked up my
clothes and threw them out the window!

"What are you doing!"

"There's one thing about being a girl. Once a girl, always a
girl. You can't get up one morning and decide that you don't want
to be a girl anymore. Now you're a girl until I say you're not."

"What about my clothes?"

"Oh, you'll get them back -- when you've earned them."

"OK, deal's off. I'm going to my room and getting more clothes."

"Oh yeah. Try it," she delivered with a tone that said, "I dare
you."

I walked firmly to my room, turned the knob, and nothing
happened. She had locked me out!

She was still standing, leaning against the door frame to the
master bedroom smiling, "I knew you'd see it my way. You could go
out in front of the house, around the alley and pick up your
clothes. I'll even go with you to make sure people see you."

I had no choice but to negotiate. "What do I have to do," I said
meekly.

"For starters, get dressed like a proper little girl."

"I am dressed like a girl," I protested.

"No, you're not," she said dangling a pair of my aunt's silky
panties off her finger.

"You said you wouldn't make me do that."

"I lied. That's another thing you learn about being a girl. The
rules change all the time. Now get out of that skirt. What's
more, this time I'm going to watch everything. You will take
everything off, and face me."

"I'm not doing it."

"OK, your pants are in the alley, or you can stay dressed in what
you have on and wait until my mom comes home."

"I'll wait."

We were at a stalemate for the entire morning and though lunch.
For some strange reason, I found myself getting excited by the
new role forced on me. Wearing a skirt was embarrassing, but it
was giving me a hard-on.

I knew I couldn't wait Heather out, and I started pleading with
her. There was nothing I could offer her except my nudity that
she would accept. By mid-afternoon, I surrendered.

"That's better," she said, "I told you girls do not have control.
They are forced to do things. Just like me. Now it's your turn.
I'm going to make you take off your clothes and touch you like my
dad did to me."

I swallowed hard. I had no idea how far this would go. In one
sense, I felt safe. Heather did not have the strength to
overpower me physically. She couldn't really "force" me to do
anything. I could accept the embarrassment with my aunt, and the
whole thing would eventually blow over. On the other hand, I
found that the humiliation fascinating! I didn't know if I liked
it or hated it. I had ambivalent feelings. I decided to risk
playing on.

This time we went into our bathroom -- the one that connects our
bedrooms. As she directed, I took off all my clothes rapidly. She
took in my body with her eyes. She smiled as she gave my erected
penis a good look. She collected her mom's clothes and said,
"Wait here."

I was standing there in the altogether when she returned. Before
I knew it, I saw a flash. That goddamned kid took a Polaroid of
me! She took off as fast as her sneakers could carry her. I ran
after her, and got to the top of the stairs when I became acutely
aware of my nakedness. I hesitated just a moment, and was about
to resume the pursuit when she skipped out the front door, camera
still in hand.

I returned to her room. I was rummaging for a pair of jeans or
shorts or something when I heard her return. She bounced up the
steps and stood in her doorway still holding the camera.

"Don't bother getting dressed. I'm not done with you yet."

"What do you mean."

"I mean I have a very incriminating picture of you. Before you
get any ideas, it's not on me. I hid it where you'll never find
it. You're pretty, you know. You have a nice body. I want you to
model it for me."

She posed me in a couple of more positions and took some more
pictures. She had me kneeling, spread eagle on the bed, playing
with her dolls, and sitting on a chair in the lotus position,
penis pointing proudly at the camera.

Then we went to her mother's room and played "dress up" until
just before dinner time. Heather took about a dozen pictures of
me in various stages of dress. Finally, she told me to go to the
kitchen and wait for her. When she arrived, she announced, "Your
door is open again. You can get into boy clothes and get your
stuff from the alley."

I wasted no time getting out of the dress I wound up in, and
darted to the alleyway. When I got back, Heather was ready to
spring her next surprise. "I hid the pictures where my mom will
find them. It's the same place she hides my school tuition. She
won't go there until September, so you're safe until then. In the
meantime, you have to do everything I say.

-=o=-

I laid in bed the better part of the night thinking about the
day's events. My emotions were extremely mixed. I was extremely
angry with Heather for what she did to me. I was also very
embarrassed and humiliated at being taken advantage of, and being
made to do things I didn't want to do (Or did I? Sure, I didn't
control the activities, but I knew I could stop any time I
wanted. That was the difference between this situation and really
being a girl. There was a cost. It wasn't too high, but I didn't
want to pay it -- yet. I was letting her do these things to me.
Sure, I had to keep telling myself that.)

I had mixed emotions about my situation. What was worse was that
it wasn't over. Heather could keep making me do whatever she
wanted for the rest of the summer. I was beginning to appreciate
what it feels to be helpless. I still had my dignity and
self-esteem with the rest of the world, but in front of Heather,
I was a nobody.

I dwelt on that emotion of helplessness. I think I began to
understand the some feelings she described to me earlier in the
day. Maybe I'd never understand the rage, but I could understand
the struggle to hang onto one's self-image.

What really surprised me is that I found part of this bizarre
experience exciting. Not knowing what my cousin was going to do
to me next was both frightening but exciting. I didn't know that
being vulnerable could evoke such a reaction. My penis popped to
an erection every time I thought about being in Heather's
control. I had to take care of that problem, so at about 3 AM, I
went into the bathroom, locked the doors, took off my pajamas,
knelt in front of the toilet, and started masturbating.

I heard Heather moving around in her room, and thought nothing of
it until I heard the click of a key in the lock. The door on her
side of the bathroom swung open, and she walked in.

She greeted my open-mouthed gape with, "You have to understand.
There's no place in this house I can't get into. I have a key for
everything! Now, I think you were playing with yourself --
'jerking off' -- if I heard the boys at school right. Don't stop
because of me. Keep going."

-----
She hoisted herself up on the vanity next to the toilet. "Kneel
down, and do it!" she commanded.

I didn't protest. What good would it do anyway. She had
everything she needed to completely embarrass me. Besides, I
needed the relief. Since she had free access to the bathroom or
my bedroom anytime she wanted, I had no safe haven. I either had
to resign myself to not doing it at all for the whole summer, or
doing it with her watching me.

It was now or later, and I decided that it just as well might be
now. I had been a busy boy since the end of school: I had to pack
my stuff to come over here, see my parents off, travel here on
the bus, and get settled in. I was so busy that I hadn't jerked
off for almost a week. I was long overdue my customary relief.

I was keenly aware of Heather's gaze, yet I still had a raging
hardon.

"Go ahead," she urged, "play with yourself. I want to see you do
it."

"Did you ever see a boy do this?" I asked.

"Well, sure," she said uncertainly, "I've seen lots of boys' ...
things. I'm not a kid you know."

"No, I mean, did you ever make a boy jerk off for you."

"No, I'd just look at their things, sometimes I'd touch it."

I looked up at her petite body clad only in a nightshirt. I never
thought of Heather as a girl. She was my kid cousin. Kids are
kind of sexless. Now, she was anything but. Although she was a
little on the skinny side, she had just enough softness to be
considered feminine.

I remember her very much as a little girl. She was my confidant
and defender against my uncle. I liked her and trusted her. Then,
she was just a kid who happened to be a girl. Now, I could get
hard just looking at her without the other activities she had me
do.

I grabbed my penis and started pulling the foreskin back and
forth over the head. It only took a few strokes in my excited
state to get it dripping pre-come. Heather directed me to stop at
that point. She reached out and touched the tip of my penis with
her fingers. She squeezed it a little between finger and thumb,
and another big drop came out. She removed her hands and rolled
it around her fingers.

"OK, go on now. Keep doing it," she said satisfied with the
results of her little experiment.

I pumped for about another 30 seconds, and let loose with a
week's worth of come. I lost total control of my breathing and
had to strangle a cry so I wouldn't wake my aunt. I had
difficulty maintaining my balance and started to sway. Heather
put out a hand to steady my shoulder. I watched as my semen
arched over the toilet and hit the back of the seat. The second
shot wasn't as long, but it was just as large. For an eternal
minute, my semen gushed and gushed in diminishing spurts until I
could still feel contractions but was out of liquid. I collapsed,
bent over, resting with my elbows on either side of the seat.

I looked up at Heather. Her face was red with excitement, and she
had a smile that would do Satan justice. "Do it again," she said.

"I can't," I panted. I now felt the chill of the evening even
though I could feel the sweat pouring from my body. I shuttered.

"Bullshit. I said do it again."

"I can't. Look, ask any guy -- he'll tell you. It can't be done.
You got to wait between. I got to rest it up -- honest."

"OK, but you better not be giving me a line."

"Honest," I exhaled exhaustedly. In the back of my mind I
thought, maybe she isn't as experienced as I thought she was.

"OK, go to bed. We'll do this again in the morning. You will be
ready to perform again in the morning, won't you?"

"Yes, Heather," I said exasperated.

"That doesn't sound quite right," she said. "You have to treat me
with a little more respect. How about you call me 'Miss Heather'
from now on?"

-=o=-

I awoke with my usual morning hard-on. I could sense the sun on
my face and turned my head before opening my eyes. The first
sight of the day was Heather's panties. She was standing right
next to my bed. I sat up with a start.

She giggled, "Good morning sleepyhead. Time to get up. We have a
lot to do today."

"How'd you? What?" I muttered, my mind still trying to shake off
the confusion of sleep.

"I have keys for everything, remember ... even your room."

How could I forget. I was locked out my room away from my
clothes, and interrupted in the bathroom. Yes, I remember, I had
no privacy from her.

She whisked the covers from my bed. I lay there, my penis making
a tent out of my pajamas.

"From now on," she directed, "you won't wear those things. You
will sleep without clothes."

"OK, OK," I grumbled.

"OK?" she barked, "OK, what? Have you forgotten my title."

I sat there still trying to put two sensible thoughts in a row.
Then it hit me. "OK, Miss Heather."

"That's better. Now get up, take off your pajamas, and make me
breakfast."

"I gotta go to the bathroom first."

"OK, but be quick about it."

She followed me into the bathroom. "You know, I think the first
thing you should do, even before you pee is to jerk off for me."

"What?"

"I said, 'Jerk off for me.' I think we'll start every day like
this."

In spite of my protesting bladder, her commanding tone was re-
establishing my hard-on. I knelt down in front of the toilet just
like I did the night before. This time, Heather took up her
position sitting on the tank with her feet on either side of the
bowl. I felt very much like the humble slave knelling before his
queen.

"Look up," she said, "I don't want your head in the way. I want
to see what's going on. You should be able to do it without
looking."

As I started pumping, I noticed how hard my prick was. The
pressure on my bladder was adding to the excitement and making
the organ firmer. My skin felt prickly, even without my touching
it. The head was more sensitive than I ever felt it before.
Naturally, it wasn't long before I was squirting my stuff to her
delight. Achieving orgasm is always fun, but the additional
sensation of a full bladder made it even more enjoyable.

"OK, you can pee now," she said, hopping down from the toilet.

I had to wait for my erection to subside a little before I could
force it out even though my bladder was full. Heather watched the
whole thing.

I went back into my bedroom and opened my drawer.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Getting dressed," I responded.

"Oh, no you don't. You'll get dressed when I tell you to get
dressed," and as an afterthought, "and in what I tell you to get
dressed. You don't need to be dressed to make breakfast. I'll
give you an apron if I think you need one. You won't wear 'boy
clothes' without my permission. Do you understand?"

Meekly, "Yes, Miss Heather."

She followed me down to the kitchen. I could feel her eyes gazing
at my buns as they bobbed up and down as I walked.

"I'll think I'll have pancakes," she said, tossing me the apron.

I looked at her sitting crossed legged on the chair. She was
dressed in an oversized T-shirt and panties. I could see the wet
spot at her crotch. She was getting off on this! So was I. I
could not deny it, The lower part of the apron was held out from
the rest of my body by a throbbing cock. I don't know why, but I
was ready to go again!

I made breakfast for the two of us, and cleaned it up under
Heather's careful direction. When I was finished with the dishes,
Heather announced, "Mom gave me a list of chores to do today.
Since they're 'girl things' I'll make you do them. You'll have to
hustle, though, if you want to get all your things done too!"

"You can start by taking off the apron. It will just get in your
way as you do the floor. You'll find everything you need under
the sink."

"What about the mop?" I asked.

"It's out on the back porch. Mrs. Marris and her kids are out in
the next yard in their pool. You'll have to say hello. If you
want to go out and get the mop, that's your business."

"Like this?"

"That's up to you. Go out butt naked, or use the brush and sponge
under the sink."

She actually laughed at my defeated posture and stunned look on
my face. "Good," she said, "I knew you'd see it my way. Now get
down on your hands and knees and scrub that floor! I'm going
upstairs to change."

I was about a quarter of the way through the kitchen floor when
Heather returned. She calmly walked across my just washed floor
to the refrigerator and got herself a glass of juice. She drank
it, and left it on the table for me to clean up.

She sat on one chair, her feet propped up on another, directing
my activities.

Throughout the course of the morning, she kept me busy doing her
chores: the laundry, cleaning the bathroom, the ironing, and so
on. Not that I thought these were particularly demeaning tasks --
they were certainly necessary -- but they were traditionally
feminine.

I recalled that a friend of mine lost a bet with his sister and
had to do her chores. I imagine he felt something like I did,
except I am sure that he didn't have to do his punishment in the
nude!

Noon approached, and Heather informed me of my responsibilities
to fix her lunch. She had me prepare some soup and salad. I
thought it was a fairly routine meal. I served her, and she
granted me permission to serve myself and eat with her.

I was about ready to sit down when she said, "Your salad needs
dressing."

"I'll use the same dressing you're using."

"Oh no, you don't. Someone who has as much housework as you have
needs his protein. Jerk off into the salad and then eat it."

I was horrified! I looked at her for a long moment in silence.
She finally said, "Do it!"

She made me stand at the edge of the table and manipulate my
organ. I had mixed emotions about this. I liked jerking off. I
was sort of getting used to doing it under Heather's supervision.
I didn't like the idea of consuming my own ejaculate. Yet I hated
to think of the consequences if I disobeyed.

I started to pant and grunt in anticipation of my orgasm. Heather
merely pointed to the bowl and said, "In there, big boy. Every
drop!"

The salad caught every squirt. By the time I was done, it looked
like it was coated with a Creamy Italian dressing.

"Looks yummy," my cousin quipped. "Now eat it all up like a good
boy."

I lifted the fork to my mouth, and then lowered it. I lifted it
again and then dropped it. "I can't do it." I said, and ran out
of the kitchen.

Heather ran into the hallway and yelled at me. "You get down here
right now and eat your vegetables or I'll give you a spanking!"

I turned, tears in my eyes, and sobbed, "No. No."

"OK, you asked for it." She said, climbing the stairs. She
grabbed me by the arm and dragged me downstairs. I don't know why
I didn't try to resist. I just went along with her.

She led me to the couch, and I found myself over her lap. With
her left hand, she reached down between her legs and grabbed me
by the balls. I wasn't going anywhere. With her right hand she
started spanking me.

I don't think she was really hurting me. At least physical pain
isn't what I recalled. Sure, my butt was hot and tingly when she
was done, but that wasn't the real damage. I wanted the spanking
to stop. I wanted the shame to stop. I didn't know how to make it
stop. I was bawling uncontrollably by the time she was done
spanking me.

She made me get up and stand in front of her. "Now, we're not
going to have any more of this disobedience, are we?"

"No ma'am." I quietly sobbed, not realizing I just promoted her
from "Miss" to "Ma'am."

"You're going to do every thing I tell you to do, just like a
good little boy, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am" again.

"And if I tell you to eat your cum salad, you're going to do it,
right?"

I nodded.

"That's better. Now let's go into the kitchen and you can finish
your lunch."

I don't know if I really could taste the semen over the taste of
the vegetables in the salad, but I was sure there was something
there.

After lunch, I was allowed to start my chores. Since most of
these involved being outdoors, Heather allowed me to wear boy
clothes. Little did passers-by know that under my shorts, I wore
something a lot silkier.

That's the way it went for the rest of the summer. I came to
accept Heather's domination, and I also enjoyed acting the part
of a girl. I certainly gained a new respect for women.

-----

Mule@tpe.com - http://www.tpe.com/~mule/


