Mrs Peason 02

Author's preamble.

This story is a product of my imagination. The characters herein are similarly imaginary and any similarity to real people is purely accidental. All sexually active characters are over the age of 18.

The story will contain aspects of cross dressing, BDSM and male and female bisexuality. If any of these aspects are not to your taste, may I respectfully suggest you look to other stories on the site. It is not my wish to offend my readers.

If these aspects are illegal where you are viewing this material, please browse elsewhere.

I welcome constructive criticism and comments and encourage you to enter your vote if you like my story.

Enjoy.

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Chapter Seven.

Two minutes later, or so it seemed, I was woken with a start by the alarm telling me to get up. Fortunately I'm one of those people who doesn't laze around in bed. It took me a few seconds to realize where I was but when I opened my eyes to my huge new bedroom I remembered my new life.

I flung back the covers and went into my bathroom. I did the necessary then started the slightly distasteful business of getting myself clean inside but even that wasn't too bad. When I was done I treated myself to a long, luxurious shower.

I was towelling myself dry when an attractive buxom young blonde entered the bathroom. "Good morning, Miss Jemma," she said, apparently oblivious to the fact there I was, a man, naked except for a towel which I quickly dropped to cover my genitalia and the false tits sticking to my chest. "I'm Penny. Mrs Peason has told me that I'm to help you get dressed and teach you to put on your makeup. When you are ready, Miss Jemma."

She retrieved a bottle of some concoction from one of the many cupboards - I determined I would have to explore all the cupboards and drawers both here and the bedroom - saying, "You should use this moisturiser every day. We don't want your skin to dry up, do we?" She poured a creamy liquid into my hand, poured some more into her own and told me, "Smooth this into your skin."

She knelt in front of me, snatched the towel and threw it away, eying my tool for a brief second before spreading the cream onto my legs, encouraging me to do my arms and upper body. I did as I was told, revelling in how it made me feel nice and smooth. Penny finished my legs and feet from the front, not neglecting my scrotum and semi-erect cock. She giggled conspiratorially, giving it a very quick kiss, before having me to turn around while she did my buttocks. "Oh, you poor dear," she sympathised on seeing my bum. I turned to see in the mirror what she was talking about and noticed the red streaks across my buttocks and upper thighs. "Mrs Peason really hurts, doesn't she?"

I looked over my shoulder at her kneeling and, very tenderly, coating my bottom with cream. She looked up with a twinkle in her eye. "You, too?" I asked incredulously.

"If I do anything wrong, particularly if I disobey her. And sometimes just for fun!" Her smile was wistful, as if remembering some previous punishment with pleasure.

"Then why do you continue to work for her?" I felt almost disloyal to Ma'am when I said this.

"Because she pays me very well. And besides," her voice dropped to a whisper, "it makes me feel randy even though it hurts." She had a lovely dimple in her cheeks when she smiled. She stood up and started to do my back where I couldn't reach. Pointing over my shoulder to my semi-erect cock. "That excites you, doesn't it Miss Jemma, the thought of me getting caned?" Now she mentioned it, my cock grew a bit more!

"You'll do," she said, slapping my sore bum and turning back into the bedroom. As I followed her she said, "I think you have something to hide those away," pointing back to my groin. "You'd better get one out and wear it."

I tried to remember which drawer my caches sexes were. I got it right second time and strapped myself in. It seemed like every time I put it on I was fighting an erection which made it quite a painful operation. I stood up to see Penny pointing to my pillow which wore some of my old makeup.

"Oh, Miss Jemma, you should never sleep in your makeup." She went into the bathroom and returned with a pot of cleansing cream. "Before you go to bed, use this to clean off all that makeup. It can ruin a girl's complexion. This will also help to keep your skin moist." She let me see where she returned the cream so I would know for tonight.

"Mrs Peason suggested you should wear a business suit today, as you both have a lot of business to get through. But there's no reason not to wear some sexy undies."

Penny looked through my wardrobe and selected a very smart navy suit and a white silk shirt with a wide collar. I found a matching set of white lace undies, including another cruel corset, with pretty little red hearts between the breasts, over the navel and on the waist band. Penny fished out a slim silk slip and added it to the selection.

When Sir had dressed me last night I had been too busy concentrating on what Ma'am was saying that I hadn't noticed just how lovely it felt to pull on stockings and stretch them up my thighs. The panties, as they snaked up my legs, felt altogether different from my old jockeys and, of course, putting a bra on and struggling to fasten it behind me was a new, delicious, sensation. The slip moulded itself around my stockings, a most sensual experience. Penny kept up a one-sided conversation, except for odd nods and grunts of assent from me, giving me various bits of advise on how to do things myself in future. Finally she rummaged through a drawer and fastened a navy velvet choker with ring of small pearls around my neck.

Although I had not always been steady on my feet in two inch heels last night, I thought I should get used to heels as quickly as possible. Some of the shoes, I noticed as I looked them over, had heels that were ridiculously high. They would have me walking on my toes and looked quite cruel. I definitely needed to practice wearing heels. I found a pair of patent leather shoes which, matched my suit nicely. The three inch heels would get me started down the road to those six inch implements of torture.

I wondered aloud what to do with my hair and Penny suggested that I twist it up and pin it high on the back of my head in a tight bun. With her help I did just that. I saw myself in the mirror and the smart, attractive image smiled back at me.

Penny took a chair and sat beside me at the dressing table where she started to explain things I would need to know about makeup. She opened various drawers and showed me the amazing arrangement of cosmetics available, and the pads, brushes and pencils I would need to apply them.

"As it's fairly formal today," she suggested, "your makeup should have a light touch. Save the glamour for more glamorous occasions. So we'll keep it simple. She explained what she was doing and why as she made my face with a delicate touch. When she had finished there was almost no sign of cosmetics but my face had been transformed.

"Now clean it off," she fished out a jar of the same cleansing cream, "and you do it."

Needless to say, my first effort was pretty ghastly so I had to wipe off and start again. It took me five tries to get it past Penny's inspection. It wasn't nearly as good as she had done but at least it wasn't the Space Witch staring at me from the mirror. When I was done she clipped pearls to my ears and pinned a pearl butterfly broach to my lapel and gave me a navy handbag. I checked inside it and found it empty.

I stood up and checked myself out in the wall mirror. The suit hugged my enhanced figure tightly and I turned this way and that, pleased with what I saw. Penny glanced at her watch and said, "We've just got time for a quick coffee before Mrs Peason wants you to attend her in the dining room for breakfast. I'll pop out and get some." She suggested I practice walking in my shoes while she was gone. "You don't want to be stumbling about when you meet her, do you?"

So I walked up and down the room in those shoes. They put a certain strain on my calf muscles and I learned I had to stay upright for better balance. The heel went over a couple of times but I found it got easier. Although not entirely comfortable, I was satisfied with my progress when Penny re-entered with two cups of coffee and we both sat down to drink it. I was told to keep my knees together, as befits a lady, and not to smudge my lipstick.

Penny told me she would be staying all weekend, this being Saturday morning, mainly as my tutor. She was to help me if I needed to change my dress and anything else. She was an amiable soul with a friendly disposition. Although not plump, she filled her own tee shirt and tights, her bosom like a soft pillow. Her hair was that frizzy blonde that seems impossible to control and indeed there were wisps of it escaping her blue hair band. She had a habit of blowing the strays away from her face every now and then. I don't think she even noticed when she did it.

She chatted away about her boyfriend as we sipped our coffee and I realised that this was 'girl talk' and I would need to learn how to do it. It was normal, I suppose, for her to talk nonchalantly about her boyfriend's intimate attributes. Men would happily discuss women but we tend to keep intimate details to ourselves. All too soon the clock crept round to 10:00 and it was time for me to go to Ma'am.

Chapter Eight.

Negotiating stairs is not as easy as walking round the bedroom on narrow heels but with Penny's help and coaching, I learned how. She led me to a door in the hall and told me it was the dining room where Mrs Peason was expecting me. Taking a deep breath, I turned the handle and pushed open the heavy wood door.

"Oh, good morning, Jemma. Yes, you do look smart." Her eyes looked me up and down and she had me turn around. "Mmm, very nice. Come and give me a big kiss then sit down, dear." Ma'am was wearing a gorgeous cream coloured heavy silk robe edged with fluffy fur. She was seated to the right of the head of the table and indicated the seat opposite. I remembered Penny's instructions and seated myself as daintily as I could.

At Ma'am's prompting I took two cigarettes from a jar on the table and lit them with the large table lighter next to the jar. I passed one to her and took a tentative puff on the other one, not yet having the courage to take a deeper blast of smoke.

She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin, head tilted to one side, on one hand while in the other her cigarette dangled almost carelessly from her fingers. Her gown opened a little allowing me a tantalising glimpse of her unfettered breasts beneath it. I got the feeling that I was almost being checked out. I was determined not to let her see how nervous this made me so I sat there with my hands in my lap, unflinching for as long as it takes for three or four drags of tobacco smoke.

Eventually Ma'am looked at my face and smiled. I returned her smile and her look, but not defiantly or anything like that, just to show her I was confident. I wasn't, of course. I had a swarm of butterflies - do they swarm? - in my tummy but I didn't let it show.

Letting a thick dribble of smoke out of her nostrils and up past her eyes, she said, "Yes, Jemma. You're doing fine. Now let's have some breakfast and get down to work." She depressed a small bell push on the table in front of her then sat back.

"OK, Jemma, we need some details about the new you. You're going to need a whole new identity, and that's what we must start creating today. Of course you'll be Jemma," she smiled at me, "You picked a perfect name." She scrutinised my face for a minute and remarked, "You really do look like a younger version of me, you could easily be my niece or something so that's what you shall be, a favourite niece working as my PA. So you should take my maiden name. It goes well with your new first name! How would you like to be Jemma Jones?"

I turned the idea over, listening to the sound of it in my head. "Jemma Jones," I said. "Jemma Jones. Yes, I like it Ma'am, it has nice alliteration. And thank you for sharing your name."

Just then there was a brief rap on a side door behind Ma'am and it opened without waiting for a reply. Carrying a coffee set was a plump, matronly woman with billowing bosom, maybe in her mid forties although it was hard to tell. She was wearing a paisley patterned dress and a big no-nonsense apron with a large frill all round the edges. "Mrs West, this is my niece, Jemma Jones. Mrs West is my precious Housekeeper and Cook. She runs the house and even I don't use her kitchen without permission. If you ever need anything, Mrs West will know where it is."

"Good morning, Miss Jemma," her smile was friendly and seemed genuine and her voice carried only the merest hint of a Scottish accent, "I believe I'm to teach you to cook. It will be my pleasure."

"Would you serve breakfast please, Mrs West?" instructed Ma'am.

"Certainly, Mrs Peason." She bobbed her head briefly to Ma'am and then to me, backed off a pace then turned and left through the same door.

"Pour the coffee, Jemma." I did as I was told and passed her cup over. "Do you want a middle name? Think about it. You had better keep the same date of birth then you can't be tripped up on that. Later this morning we'll walk down to Tesco and get some pictures for your passport and driving licence. Don't worry, Quentin has all the contacts we need to set you up with a cast iron identity. The documents will be genuine."

I scarcely heard her last assurance. Did she mean I was to go out with her dressed like this? Scary!

Mrs West arrived with jugs of milk and orange juice, served us cereal then left us alone again. Meanwhile I'd been mulling over her question about a middle name but couldn't think of anything. "I'm happy just to be Jemma Jones, Ma'am, I don't need a middle name."

"That's fine." Ma'am smiled and wrote it down. As we ate, she talked about our trip out this morning, trying to allay my fears about my first public excursion. "Honestly, Jemma, nobody will know you're anything but a very pretty girl." I wasn't totally convinced. We discussed other items of my new identity. Ma'am suggested I keep my biographical details as close to my former life as possible as that would be much less likely to cause me problems with awkward, if casual, questions.

Penny arrived and cleared away the used dishes then Mrs West brought us our hot meal and again retired, taking with her the sheet of paper on which Ma'am had noted the details of my new identity. She was to pass it on to Sir as soon as she saw him. We ate in silence then I had to light more cigarettes while we relaxed over a final coffee. Ma'am told me to come and help her dress so I followed her to her room and started my training as a maid.

Even though it was a thrill for me to see and touch her lovely body again, a slapped hand told me I was not allowed to take any liberties so it was not long before she was dressed in a suit of a similar cut to my own but in a light grey. I had to sit and watch her apply her makeup as she explained what she was doing and why, some of it was reinforcing what Penny had told me earlier but I learned a couple of new tricks. She had me repair my own lipstick and then it was time for me to face the world.

Ma'am handed me a few things to put in my handbag, my own mobile, a purse, a gold cigarette case loaded with Ma'am's favourites and a matching gold lighter. The purse contained a considerable sum of money. More than I had earned for a month."

She took hold of my hand and led me to the front door. Penny happened to be passing through the hall as we did. She gave me a wink and wished me luck. Ma'am opened the door, squeezed my hand and led me like a lamb to the slaughter into the public domain.

Chapter Nine.

"We'll just take a slow walk to help you get used to your shoes. You're doing very well," Ma'am reassured me as we walked along the street, heels clacking simultaneously. "You watch, these two won't even spare you a second glance." Coming towards us were two young women, one of them pushing a baby carriage. We stepped to one side to allow them to pass. The mother smiled her thanks at us and they passed on their way, gossiping normally.

"See? To them we're just a couple of business colleagues or two girls from the office. Now, you have money in your purse, spend it as you need and ask me when you want more. It's going to be a few days before your credit and bank cards come through. Your passport, driving licence and birth certificate will take a bit longer as we have to get them into the government databases but a friend of Sir's reckons their security is like a sieve.

"Your old job: obviously you won't be going back there so when we get home you can phone your boss and tell her you quit and forego any outstanding wages in lieu of notice. She can send your papers to your old home."

"I've got to phone Mum to let her know I'm OK or she'll worry."

"Are you going to tell her why you're moving out?" queried Ma'am.

"Do you think I should? Maybe I should just go see her and tell her I've got a live-in position. Oh, I think I'd need your permission to go back as James for the last time."

"Just think of my cane before you even ask that question, Jemma." Ma'am sat in thought for a minute or two, looking at me closely. "What we'll do is this. You phone your mother and tell her your new employer and her PA are going to call on her. I'll tell her about your new position and what it entails and wait to see how long it takes her to recognise that it is her son sitting next to me. Don't you say anything because she'd recognise your voice."

"I can't do that. She'd have a fit."

"We'll see."

There were more people on the streets as we approached the supermarket. None of them noticed I was anything but what they saw. We even heard a low whistle behind us after we'd just passed two youths. I felt myself blushing but walked on with an exaggerated sway to my bum. Ma'am started into a fit of the giggles and soon we walked along hugging and giggling together.

"Oh, you saucy wench, Jemma," said Ma'am when we composed ourselves. "Now tell me you're not a pretty girl."

She was right and suddenly I knew I enjoyed being a pretty girl. We used the photo kiosk and got three sheets of four for various I/Ds. The store restaurant was fairly quiet so we sat down for a coffee. "You will pay for everything when we're out together. That will be part of your job. What will your mother be doing now? Late Saturday morning?"

"Most likely sitting in front of the telly doing her crosswords. Everywhere there's her old crossword magazines. I've never seen her finish one but she's addicted."

"OK, let's get it over with. Phone her and tell her I'm coming to see her."

The tone of her command made me key up my mother's mobile number. "Hi Mum, it's me." I held the phone away from my ear as she nagged back at me. Eventually I managed to get a word in and told her I had a new job and my new employer wanted to come and see her. Would she be OK to call in about 30 minutes? Nag, nag, nag, yes, she supposed so.

I had to call us a cab then we finished our coffees and were out just as the cab pulled up. My carefree mood after the hip-swinging episode had vanished and now those butterflies put on their stomping boots. I paid off the cabbie and we walked up the path to the shabby council house. "Not a word, don't forget," she whispered as I pressed the bell push.

Mum had made an effort to tidy herself up and was even wearing clean jeans and tee. Ma'am put out her hand to Mum and said with a smile, "Good morning Mrs Denton. My name's Ivy Peason, this is Miss Jones. Your son said you were expecting me. May we come in?"