Stories & Poems

Dressing for Madam Raison D'être

Madam had instructed me to dress for Her. I was nervous for Madam was always so particular, so perfect Herself, a model of femininity, so very desirable. Her look would melt me instantly, I was captivated by Her, obsessed, at peace in Her presence, pining when I could not see Her for any length of time. I longed to be Hers totally, Her property, Her possession, Her toy, to use and abuse as She might desire.

I decided on my pink dress, made of moiré taffeta, such a wonderful material with a wavy, shimmery pattern and an amazing susurrus, that rustling sound as you move in it, which means you cannot forget you are wearing it. The whole effect is so completely feminine. I had had it designed for me at embarrassing expense, but how can you regret the price of such perfection, especially to please Madam? The dress had a high collar with contrasting white frills, and of course the bottom was lined with similar contrasting frills, together with some shoulder frills and others on the short sleeves. Underneath was a camisole attached to the matching sissy petticoats, three layers of alternating taffeta with contrasting frills to match the dress. Of course, there were matching knickers, an apron and a cap to round it off. I truly loved to wear this dress, it was perhaps suitable for a Lady as sophisticated and beautiful as Madam.

I had been waxed last week-end and was completely smooth. Firstly, I put on a corset liner, then my pink corset with black stripes on the stays. I pulled myself in and laced myself, though I would leave the final lacing until after the make-up. Madam did like small waists even if you suffered somewhat, but that was part of being a maid, to be controlled and somewhat uncomfortable in the quest for perfection. Then some lovely Cette white shiny lace hold-ups, the pinnacle of luxury and elegance. I put on a pink shiny satin bra and inserted the breast forms to give a C cup, perhaps understated but enough to give me an undeniable profile. Then I put on a matching pink taffeta ball-bag that fitted over my balls and penis, covering them and somehow emphasising them. It laced on and on the end was a small bell that tingled gently when I moved, such a lovely touch to complete my humiliation. Madam would then know where I was and it was a constant reminder of my lowly status.

I turned for now to my make-up. I had been taken to a beauty counter to have make-up applied to teach me, which was so embarrassing but also so very enjoyable, to have a Lady showing you how to apply the make-up properly, deciding which tones complemented your skin, giving you tips as she worked. It had felt incredible to lap up the information with eagerness and interest even as my face burned with embarrassment. I applied cream to my face and then I took a brush and started to apply the foundation, giving myself a good cover. Next some powder to fix the foundation and then some blusher to highlight my cheeks and some concealer to lighten my eyes. I decided on red lipstick but first went round my mouth with a lipliner, somewhat exaggerating the size of my lips to give more fullness. I pouted a bit and applied the lipstick, Maybelline as it stayed forever. Pleased with my look, I turned to my eyes and applied some mascara on the upper and lower lashes, luxuriating in the fullness and definition it gave. Next I applied some kohl pencil to my eyelids to create a sultry look before applying some eye shadow in a muted shade. I preened and posed for a second in the mirror, touching up a few spots and applying some finishing touches. I hoped Madam would be pleased with my efforts.

I chose my blond wig. I knew Madam preferred a darker wig on me but somehow I could not resist the look, it changed me completely and I felt more like the bimbo that I desired to be. I brushed it carefully and pulled it on firmly, then brushed it again, my transformation was complete, my face unrecognisable, pretty and perfect. I turned my attention back to the corset and pulled it as tight as I could before lacing it off. My waist had shrunk a full six inches and my profile was somewhat extreme, with large breasts and a tiny waist, just as Madam demanded.

Next I pulled out a new device Madam had decided I should wear, a steel gender training belt. This was a locking belt that went over the tightened corset to which I had no key. Attached to the belt were matching thigh bands which had a chain link between them. I stepped carefully into the thigh bands and pulled the belt up until I could pull it closed and lock it over my corset. The chain links meant my gait was restricted and Madam sometimes delighted in attaching bells to the chains so I tinkled even more as I walked. Over this I pulled on the matching knickers, which had an elasticated hole in the front to frame the ball bag as well as matching contrasting frills across the back and tie sides so they could be attached over the training belt. I felt such a sissy already.

I pulled on the camisole with the attached petticoats, such fullness, and then pulled the dress gently on top, the skirt forced outwards and upwards by the petticoats. Of course, the dress could be locked on and Madam had left me an open padlock. I reached round and pulled the zipper up and attached the zipper pull with the padlock to two securing rings sewn into the padlock. Madam had the key so I was now helplessly locked into the dress. A shiver ran down my spine, this was exactly what I wanted but the reality of the situation made my stomach turn. She would surely make me pay before I was let out. Then I put on my pink court shoes which had ribbons to tie around the ankles, rather like a ballerina. they were so perfect with five inch heels, quite tough to wear for extended periods but my training was never ending and I knew Madam would only gag me if I complained.

It was time for the final touches so I tied off the matching apron in a big bow and then put on a cap with trailing ribbons on my head with a grip. There were some teardrop earrings on the table so I attached them too, pleased with the gentle tug on my earlobes and the effect as I moved my head. Some long pink satin gloves rounded off the look. And then some perfume to match Madam, to remind me constantly that I was Her pink poodle, my one objective in life to please Her in any way She desired.

I looked at myself to check my appearance finally before turning and gently knocking on Madam's door, ready to serve Her. My heart was beating fast, wondering if She would be pleased with my appearance and what plans She had in store for me. She was endlessly inventive and I truly adored to serve such a wonderful Mistress. I heard the gentle words "Enter" and I eagerly opened the door and gave a curtsey, constrained by the training belt somewhat, my eyes on the floor, my head bowed, awaiting Madam's verdict with trepidation.

Wherever Mistress goes, you will no doubt always find one of her pink poodle bitches at Her side