A New Life

With a rustling crack Roger Mansfield readjusted the paper before searching the table with one hand until he found his cup of tea. Early morning sun streamed in the bay window of the modest little dining room. It illuminated the paper quite nicely and its warming rays seemed to augment his mood of complete satisfaction. Satisfaction that was complete when he took his first sip of early morning tea.

Something tickled the end of his nose and he inhaled deeply, enjoying the aroma of frying bacon. Roger gave a sigh of complete contentment and dropped the upper portion of the paper. He beamed a warm smile at his wife as she came in from the kitchen. A warm plate of crispy bacon, two sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms, and a couple of eggs placed on a slice of lightly fried bread were laid down before him. With a flourish Roger folded his paper and laid it down..

He gave her retreating hand a warm pat, and admired his wife as she returned to the kitchen. Mrs Mansfield was in a fitted dress of black cotton that showed he neatly corseted figure superbly. A white apron tastefully trimmed in lace adorned her waist. Her hands were manicured to perfection, and the colour of her nail varnish toned perfectly with her lipstick and blusher.

"Just two more days,darling. Just two more."

"Yes dear." She smiled at her husband, from just inside the kitchen doorway. A knowing look in her eyes. "I know."

Roger buttered a slice of toast, dipped the edge into the yolk of the egg. He watched the skin depress and break, a surge of yolk spilling down onto the bread and mushrooms. Leaning back he ate the yellowed toast and contemplated.

Two more days. Two more days, and he would be retired. It had been a long hard struggle, but it had been worth it. The grasping of the new management techniques, and the utilising, of what was then, the new technology; information technology. It had been worth it. And Melissa had been with him every step of the way. Melissa had been instrumental.

He opened his eyes and looked adoringly at his wife as she came to the table. Melissa fitted a cigarette to her holder, lit it, and sat to her breakfast of orange juice, toast and black coffee. Her meals were ones of strict diet to ensure her wonderfully sculpted figure.

After taking a mouthful of bacon and mushrooms Roger clasped his hands and leaned over his plate.

"Has everything gone to plan?"

Melissa exhaled a stream of smoke. "Of course, silly. Everything has been booked, the car will arrive promptly and we'll be on our way by eleven."

"Excellent. Now, all those measurements you had me take. Come on what were they for. A new suit?"

"Oh you don't want me to spoil the surprise, do you dear?" She smiled sweetly at him. The rising smoke from her cigarette making a gauzy veil to her green eyes.

"No, no of course not."

The final days passed quite wonderfully. Roger's retirement dinner, hosted by the company, went exceedingly well, with Melissa being the centre of attention, as per usual. Younger managerial wives watched her with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, a green miasma of jealousy pervaded the air in almost visible glances. Melissa was gorgeous in her satin gown, high heels, and feline elegance.

The last day was one of final meetings and the signing of documents. Although the time seemed to drag horribly, Roger was surprised to find that he actually left the old office just after noon. Time for a swift half in the local before he headed back to the house.

He pulled off the motorway and onto the familiar stretch of road before turning onto the lane just past Boxton Farm. Unhindered by any farm traffic, Roger made good time and drew into the village just after 2pm. Roger slowed as the gable of the Canny Dog hove into view. Momentarily he considered turning left and sliding into the parking place overlooking the village pond before popping over to the pub. Roger accelerated slightly, as he had had second thoughts, and he continued on, the canopied tables outside the building flashing into the rear view mirror.

Roger drove into the drive and parked before the garage. He stood with car door half closed, wondering who owned the Escort parked before the door. Shrugging he slammed the door shut and entered into the house via the garage. Keys deposited on a side table he draped his jacket onto a chair and followed the muffled sound of voices to the lounge.

Melissa, resplendent in a silk suit, sat across from an attractive woman in her early forties. His wife laid her of coffee cup onto the table and rose to greet her husband.

"Roger! Your home early darling."

"Yes, it took less time than I anticipated. I'm not intruding?"

"No! not at all. This is Mrs Watts. Diane, my husband Roger."

"Charmed." Roger smiled warmly as he proffered his hand.

Diane Watts inclined her head and grasped his firmly. "So pleased to meet you at last."

"Diane has just brought your retirement surprise."

"Really?"

"Why yes." Added Diane. "In fact I arrived with them not thirty minutes ago." "Well I must admit I am intrigued. I knew there was something up when Melissa did all the measurements, but she wasn't letting on at all."

"Well, darling, there is not time like the present." Melissa smiled coyly. "Shall we go up."

Melissa flashed a smile at Diane who returned a knowing look at her friend. Leading the way Melissa was followed by Roger, who was followed by Diane. Instead of turning right at the stair head to go to their bedroom she lead them to the spare room.

"Behold." Melissa assumed the classic pose of the magician's assistant.

Roger stared at the clothing set out on the bed. A crisp white blouse with black ties at the collar, puffed sleeves and black cuffs. A calf length sheath skirt in black satin. A corset of cream trimmed with black ribbons and six suspenders. Sheer black seamed stockings. A pair of patent high heels, at least six inches high, with an inch wide leather strap at the heel.

Roger's jaw dropped.

"These can't be mine. These are woman's clothes."

"No dear." Melissa explained. "These are your clothes."

"But I can't wear these!"

Melissa placed her hands on her hips and confronted her husband. "And why not. I've had to for the last twenty five years. Do you honestly think that I wanted to be laced into one of these prisons. Well do you?"

Roger just stared at his wife.

"Well I didn't." She continued. "I endured it for you. I endured the whole thing for you. The elocution lessons, the styling the whole damn thing, so that you could get where you are and we could have the lifestyle we have had. I even started these," she fitted a cigarette into her holder, "for you. Well now its payback time."

"You can't be serious."

"Very serious."

"Well you've another thing coming Melissa. I'm not going to wear one stitch of these, these things."

"Things!" Diane Watts sounded aggrieved. "These are not things Mr Mansfield, they are finely crafted creations. Even if I do say so myself. Just as your other pieces are."

"Others!" Roger's tone was almost woman shrill.

"Oh yes." Diane Watts' face shone with pride. "A perfectly adorable maids uniform. Two lovely suits. Three beautiful little cocktail dresses and two wonderful gowns for when your entertaining. Not to mention of a gorgeous chauffeuse's uniform in premium leather."

Roger looked from one woman to the other. His mind was a turmoil, and although his lips made the motions of speech his mouth refused to work. He took a deep breath. Closed his eyes and clenched his fists.

Composing himself he said in a very controlled voice. "I will never wear such...such items willingly."

Melissa looked at her friend. "You were right Diane."

Diane inclined her head. "Mr Mansfield." She said softly.

Roger looked towards her and failed to avoid her fist. Eyes rolling upward he wilted onto the bed.

Roger was aware of a dull ache, like the twinge of a sore tooth. As his senses slowly returned he was more aware of a throb in his jaw and a distinct tightness at wrist and ankles. He shook the fogginess from his brain and realised that he was suspended from a box frame. He tried to crane his neck around to see who was behind him.

"Awake, dear." It was Diane Watts' voice. "Jolly good. Breathe out now!"

Before Roger could reply he was aware of something begin to tighten around his abdomen. Something that was becoming more and more restrictive. A steady pressure which forced his stomach flat and his waist in. It negated the feeling in his crotch that he was just becoming aware of.

"Oh God. Please, please make it stop."

"Oh you wimp. I've only reduced you by three inches. Just wait till we get you down further. Then you can complain."

Diane adjusted the ties then hunkered down to draw one stocking then the next up to the suspenders and attached them. After she had done this she unfastened the straps and released Roger. He moved to stand from the spread-eagled position and swayed unevenly as he tried to stand on his heels. Diane supported his elbow.

"Just take small steps. Keep your back straight and just flex the knee slightly as you put your foot down."

Diane lead him gingerly to the bed where the skirt and blouse were still laid out. Without really thinking he took the blouse and was in the process of buttoning it when he noticed his reflection in the mirror. His sex was encased in flesh coloured leather and drawn back between his legs. His fingers gingerly touched the material.

Diane giggled. "Just a little precaution. We don't want the lady having an erection now; do we?"

Roger used the bed end for support as he leaned in towards the mirror. While he had been out one of the women, or both for that matter, had applied make up. Quite tastefully too. It would complement his outfit. Roger tied the bow of the blouse then shimmied into the tight sheath of satin. It forced his legs together and his walk became an exaggerated mince.

Negotiating the stairs were a nightmare. At each step he was sure he would be catapulted down to lie as a crippled broken heap at the bottom. Yet he made it with only a little assistance from Diane. From there he walked the usually short distance to the lounge at a snail's pace, pausing to balance himself against the wall on more than one occasion. Finally he stood before his wife.

Melissa sat back in an easy chair and inhaled casually on her holder as she ran her eyes over her husband in appraisal.

"Very presentable. Unfortunately the hair and flat chest spoil it." Melissa said.

"Can't do a thing about the chest - - yet. Until his hair grows to a workable length he can wear these."

A black turban with a large flower set at the brow was placed on his head and white globe earrings clipped to his lobes. Melissa nodded smiling. She tossed something to Roger who caught the little package and no more. On inspecting it he saw it was a packet of American cigarettes.

"I don't smoke." He said.

Melissa smiled. "Right and wrong. Roger my husband did not, but Rena Wifmaud, my companion does. Now light up and shut up."

"No."

"Oh Rena.." Diane said behind him. "That is one thing one does not say. And here is why."

It lasted a bare fraction of a second, but the pain in his genitals brought him gasping to his knees. He was just getting his breath back when it struck again, drawing him into an almost foetal position. His face was a grimace of agony.

"Do you want a cigarette Rena?" Asked Melissa.

"Yes." He sobbed, fumbling with the packet.

"Would you like a light Rena?"

"Yes."

"Yes what."

"Yes please."

Melissa clicked a lighter and Rena gingerly drew on the proffered flame. He coughed and spluttered as he inhaled.

"That's better." Said Melissa, settling back into her chair. "Well I hope you like your new outfit. It will be the first of many.

"You're going to have an interesting retirement Rena. In fact you're going to have a complete new life. One similar to my own after I married you. I'm going to shape you the way you shaped me, and just as I have become used to corsetry and couture wear so shall you.

"Oh you're going to have a wonderful time Rena. I've so much planned for you. Now that we're retired I've told everyone we're going away. A long trip overseas. Oh we will be travelling, but closer to home. Oh and most of it will be with you in your chauffeuse's uniform as you drive your employer, me, around the country. Once you've been fully trained we'll both be entertaining and you'll get to know how it feels to be the centre of attention. Until then you'll have work to do as a maid or house-keeper."

Melissa smiled. It was not a warm smile. "Or anything else I desire."

"Yes Rena." Added Diane. "Because we have," she held out the palm of her hand and displayed a flattened cigar shaped device similar to a TV remote, "just the right thing to persuade you."

Rena cringed and assumed a submissive posture. He looked pleadingly at both women, who returned his look with cold stares.

"I'll be good." He whispered.

"A good what? Rena." Asked Melissa.

"A good girl."