Gaynor Radford and Dillys Lush sat next to each other on their straight-backed chairs with pink upholstered seats, their knees pressed together and their arms at their sides, holding the hems of their skirts in dainty fingertips. Miss Flounce insisted they hold their skirts out to the sides, like little girls showing her how sweet they are feeling in women's clothes, or in Gaynor's case, wearing the clothes he had been put into by his teenage stepsister.
"Today is Sissyschool open day," she announced to them, walking across the room a few feet in front of them to impress on her sissies the authority of her schoolmistress apparel for the day. "You will expose your sissyness to our guests. They want to see men who are no longer men." Her brown plaid pleated maxi skirt slithered its lining across her silk petticoat slip with each click clack of her heeled boots, holding over her pupils the continual threat that either of them could be laid face down across that pleated knee at any moment for the slightest infringement of the school rules. She stopped and turned to face them, her carmined lips set with determination and the florid ruffles of her primrose satin blouse spread across the expanse of her ample bosom. "Ladies visit us here at Girly-Pink because they like to see sissies who have lost their way in life, their male sex diluted, watered down so that all they desire is to wear everything the Ladies wear. They enjoy that."
A sob of regret rose from the throat of Gaynor. His tutor glared at him and filled her ruffled bosom with a deep breath of patience. She likes it when sissies begin to lose their hope and get increasingly upset. She stepped round the back of them and stood between them, her pleats against their chairs, to impress on them the succulence of her perfume and the sizzle of her petticoat. "Ladies' stockings," she went on, knowing her words would bring pangs of desire from them both, "women's lingerie, girls' petticoats, sissy bonnets, and most of all, lovely dresses – because you want to be a girl, don't you?"
"Yeth Mith Flounthe." They spoke in unison.
"You will show the Ladies how weak you are – girly and soppy – won't you, sissies?"
"Yeth Mith Flounthe."
"You will want the Ladies to enjoy seeing how helpless you are – ridiculous – pathetic ex-males."
"Sob – sob – ye-eth Mith Flounthe." They were both sobbing now, to her delight. It was time for her to exact more shame from them.
"Sissy Gaynor, I am looking at your pink pleats, pointing up between your legs." Her voice turned hard. "I hope you are not having an erection under your stepsister's pleated skirt?"
His sobs went higher in a girly sort of panic. "Oh I'm thowy Mith Flounthe. It'th becoth I'm wearing her lickel petticoat under it, and her gorgeouth pantieth, Mith."
His words hung in the air for a moment against the background sobbing from the two of them. Then his sobs turned to bleats of desperation, despair, for Miss Flounce was striding back to the front of the room where her large chair awaited her pleated bottom. On her way she gathered her awesome apron of heavy pink rubber and by the time she sank her weight onto the white satin seat, the pleats of her skirt were protected in its smooth, crinkling rubber. Her brows lifted as if to say, "You know what you deserve," and her hands motioned the whimpering sissy forward.
He stood at her knees, sobbing in anticipation, his bare knees pressed together, in his stepsister's white blouse with a pretty blue floral print, full sleeves gathered in little ribbon ties at each wrist and a cute ribbon bow at his frilled throat. He was wearing her bra too, with cute B cups, and white ankle socks with a pair of her pink satinette high heels, very lady-like. Miss Flounce slipped her fingers under his skirt, unhooked his panties and brought them down to his knees. They were pretty white panties with pink hearts scattered all over and trims of lace at the legs. He knew the routine, his tears were already rolling down each cheek, and he lent his pantied knees into the side of his schoolmistress's apron to lower himself with her help across her knee.
Ten feet away, Dillys Lush sat in a lavish blouse and wide pleated skirt, his face a picture of misery since he would be next. It was always rewarding to the mistress to make one sissy watch and shiver with anticipation as she carried out her chastisement on another. The pleated skirt was turned up over Gaynor's blouse, followed by the little white petti, leaving his ass pink and defenceless. She drew her blouse cuff an inch or two up from her wrist, lay her hand on one cheek, and SMACK! – SMACK! – SMACK!
"Owww! – Ouch! – Ohhh! Oww, it hurts so much!" came the cries from the low rubber side of her apron.
"It's what a sissy like you deserves for daring to grow stiff without my permission, Sissy Gaynor Radford!" She brought him to his feet, his petticoat and skirt falling over his reddened ass and his face a blushing crimson.
"B-But my bottie ith all thoft and wobbly," he whinged.
"Of course. You've got a girl's bottie. Stand nose to the corner and hold up your skirt behind you to cool your effeminate sissy bottom."
He minced his way to the appointed spot, where Miss Flounce's mackintosh in dark pink cire satin hung awaiting his nose. Meanwhile the schoolmistress gestured her other sissy to stand and present himself in front of her.
Dillys Lush approached with trembling steps on a pair of mid brown court shoes until he stood at her knees, his heels and toes together, his hands clutching the sides of his skirt which he held out sideways to show Miss Flounce its full width. She was pleased with the utter feminization he had been subjected to.
"Are you wearing your grandmother's blouse and pleated skirt again, Sissy Dillys?" she asked.
"Yeth Mith Flounthe. She wanted me in her w-w-white thilk blouthe for thithy thchool today, and – and her pathtel gween pleated thkirt." His chin was surrounded in white lace from a high cuff, with matching lace at his wrist cuffs and forming a pretty panel of lace on either side of mock silk-covered buttons over his prominent bust.
"Turn. Let me see your blouse buttons."
He was buttoned sweetly down the back of his blouse, his head of blond hair bowed forward in shame under his inspection. She turned him round again. "Why are you not wearing pink today at Girly Pink, Sissy Dillys?" she demanded.
"Oh M-Mith Flounthe, Gwandma dwethed me in her pink knickerth, ma'am."
"Hmm. Take off Grandma's skirt."
He started whimpering, suggesting to her that he might have something to hide. He undid the button at the back of his waist and drew down the zip, then slid the wide, lined skirt down his legs to reveal his waist slip of white polyester edged round the hem with three inches of lace. Sure enough the front of his grandmother's slip was pushed high with an all-too-male point of erection. His schoolmistress's hands were at his waist in a flash, under his blouse and sliding down the slip to reveal the pink panties in question: satinized, wide-legged with deep lace trims and glistening with nasty male cum over the top of a rounded pink apex.
"I'm thowwy Mith Flounthe! I couldn't help it! Gwandma made me wear her thilkietht knickerth and petticoat, and I wath in her pleatth and her blouthe and I felt tho girleeee!"
He was bared immediately from his grandmother's knickers and went straight over Miss Flounce's knee, his naked cockle sliding deep into the rubber of her apron, so that his ass could be every bit as sore and wobbly as the sissy who stood whimpering into her mackintosh in the corner.
SMACK! – WHACK! – SMACK! – WHACK!
When Miss Flounce was finished with him, she stood the two of them in front of her seat as she wheeled into place their dressing rails and arranged them one beside Sissy Gaynor and the other beside Sissy Dillys. A look of shame crossed both their faces but at the same time their lips opened with uncontrolled feelings of longing as each rail swung gently with a dangling pair of panties, a hanging set of petticoats and a preciously full and frilly girl's dress, all on their separate hangers, swinging with rustling prettiness and bringing aches of desire to their helpless cocks. At one end of each rail, dangling beneath its hanger, hung a frilly, shiny, girly bonnet that only the most feminine of princesses would wear. Miss Flounce produced her bottle and spoon, bringing girlish bleats of dismay from the two of them.
"Time for syrup," she declared, her face resolute. She tipped the bottle and measured the dose. "A spoon of medication for Sissygirl Gaynor!"
Her pupil cringed in his stepsister's blouse. "Oh pweathe no, Mith Flounthe. I'll feel thooooo girly!"
The schoolmistress lifted her chin and looked down her nose as she placed the bowl of the spoon on his lower lip, trembling as it was, until his mouth opened and in it went. She watched until he swallowed, then poured the dose for his trembling partner.
"Pweathe don't give me my embawathment medithine, Mith Flounthe," he cried in a tiny feminine voice. His mouth drooped in a picture of misery but he parted his lips sufficiently for the spoon to enter and was made to swallow as his schoolmistress watched.
"You know what to expect in front of the Ladies," she said, setting down her bottle and spoon. "Get ready for your girl's clothes, both of you, because you have a lot of entertaining to do."
Their bleats of anguish were music to her ears as she relieved each boy of his skirt and blouse as they undressed themselves. She knew what was burning with horror through their minds, draining the pathetic male strength from their delicate knees, weighing heavily on their thumping hearts. In five or ten minutes, when they had been dressed in their panties, petticoats and dresses and put into their large, frilly bonnets, she would lead them by the hand into the circle room, where they were to be scrutinized by however many ladies were present. Every female guest would be wearing voluminous latex knickers beneath their slips. They would need them, because they were here to watch for those girly squirms and shudders, to listen for those pathetic confessions of effeminate sweetness that the demaled sissies wanted to tell the Ladies about, and above all to enjoy seeing that deep, sissy arousal in sissies who were helpless now that they were dressed in little girl dresses and lingerie for the Ladies to laugh at. It was why the sissies longed to come to the Girly Pink Sissy School every Wednesday: their Lady visitors knew they were feeling extremely girlish and had lost every last bit of their manhood.
Miss Flounce led them through the door and into the middle of the circle of seats. Their dresses swung and bounced softly on layers of frothy white petticoats and their faces sank lower inside their deeply starched frilly bonnets. "Here they are, Ladies," she announced. "Sissy Gaynor and Sissy Dillys: they want to show you how they aren't men any more now that they are so in love with their pretty dresses and big girly bonnets."
She held onto their hands and felt the cringe of shame go through them as they were met by the Ahhhhhhhhs, the warm giggles and the soft applause of leather gloves from fifteen smartly dressed, attractive Ladies. She also knew that both sissies were fighting to restrain the ache of their cocks inside their pink panties. They couldn't resist that girling pleasure of being teased and inspected knowing that the Ladies would enjoy deep feminine pleasure at their expense for the next two hours.
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