Ms. Rhonda's Finishing School Ch. 01

DISCLAIMER: All characters in this and any additional parts of this story are all over the age of 21.

This tale involved crossdressing and BDSM. If these subjects do not interest you then I wish you well and hope you find a story on the site which you will enjoy.

If you choose to read this tale then I thank you in advance for doing so. When you have finished I hope you will leave a comment or a suggestion and I would ask that you please vote as well.

Before you begin I want you to know that the first two chapters of this story contain little or no actual sexual play. It was important that I establish not only the characters but also the story line before any physical interaction comes into play. I hope you will still take the time to read but if not, I understand.

Holly

*****

MS. RHONDA'S FINISHING SCHOOL FOR GURLS (Chapter One)

Sitting there, sipping at a glass of some of the worst wine I had ever tasted, I wondered what on earth I had been thinking. I let out a sigh, once again letting my eyes drift over those in attendance as I wondered where this lifestyle had taken a wrong turn. I was a transplant from down under, now living in America, and this was my initial foray into dipping my toes back into the waters of being a dominant. I had agreed to come here to meet a few others like myself but that wasn't quite what I was watching.

The hostess for the event had positioned her chair so that it was higher than any of the others and from where I sat; it looked like quite a few worker bees buzzing around their Queen as the twenty something looked down upon her admirers. It was almost laughable as they fawned over this imposter named Brenda. It was quite obvious she was about as good at playing her role as this wine was of winning the Australian Wine Industry Award. Neither was going to happen.

She had glanced my way a couple of times as if to ask why aren't you paying homage to me? I'd made sure to not make eye contact, not wanting or needing to meet her to know she was just another person posing at the lifestyle, not living it as I had for quite a few years. I'm not judgmental but it seemed as the years had passed that many of those who were coming out of the woodwork were doing so because it was a trendy thing to do.

I had almost made my decision to make a quiet exit when all of that, and the direction my night was heading, took me down a quite different path. The words were loud, the voice abrasive and as I turned I saw what looked to be a young woman being berated by the brash so called dominant on her throne. The girl was dressed in simple maid's attire, obviously a submissive, but it was her demeanor which caught my eye. As the words rained down on her, her head fell further and further, while her posture resembled more of a beaten animal than a human being.

Once I assumed her owner had finished with her verbal thrashing she stepped down and I felt my anger beginning to get the best of me when she added a physical end to emphasize her point. The slap was a vicious one and the girl's head rocked from it. What made it worse was the laughter that rang out from the assembled crowd as the young ladies walk of shame began, her steps taking her my way.

It was only when she drew closer that I got a better look and to my surprise I saw it was a young man, not a woman, whose face held the imprint of where the blow had landed. The look in his eyes one of pain though I had a feeling it was not from the slap he had just endured. My heart went out to him as I took in the threadbare uniform he wore, obviously something purchased at some cheap costume outlet or possibly a thrift store. His hair and makeup showed his lack of skills at such and he fairly stumbled along in heels which were obviously ill fitting.

For me the problem was I got the feeling that he wasn't trying to appear like a man in a woman's world, he actually wanted to do well. However, it seemed like he was the only one who desired his success, not his failure. I should have known better but I had always had a soft spot for the underdog so I said, "Excuse me miss?"

The gurl stopped, her posture showing how she was already preparing herself for another verbal beating, but I think I surprised her when I held up my flute. "Young lady, if I might have a refill, I would be most appreciative."

It hurt to see how badly she trembled as she reached out to take the offered wineglass and I gave her a smile. "Thank you so much, I'm sorry, what is your name dear?"

The voice which answered was almost so soft as to be a whisper as I heard, "Patrick Miss."

I started to say something about that not being much of a feminine name but I had a feeling it centered on the woman who even now was glaring my way. I paid her little attention as I said, "Thank you Patrick for taking such good care of me."

He moved slowly towards the kitchen and it was only then I turned my head and smiled at his bleached blonde owner, her looks growing even more menacing. It reminded me of a child who had not gotten her way and was seconds away from a temper tantrum. When I look back on it, I wonder if I should have done things differently, but I could never stand a bully. Especially one who would hurt others in order to make themselves feel more important.

"Why thank you Patrick, what a lovely presentation."

The maid had done her best to curtsy before handing me my drink. Her hands shaking so violently that it threatened to slosh over its side but luckily had not. It was only then that I saw out of the corner of my eye our hostess approach but before she arrived, I got a brief glimpse of the possibilities that were hidden within the young maid. It had been a simple compliment, but for a second, perhaps two, a smile filled the submissives face and I saw how beautiful she could be. Unfortunately, the momentary good mood quickly turned sour.

I heard him cry out as Brenda grabbed him by his hair, her eyes locked on mine as she spit forth, "This bumbling idiot is serving my house tonight and I would suggest you quit filling his head with whatever stupid fairy tale you're telling him. Is that clear?"

I heard the soft cry which escaped his lips as she pulled harder and I stood, quickly towering over the rather diminutive woman who tried to take a step back, but it was too late for that. My voice was calm but the look in my eyes belayed a different emotion.

"I've met many women like you dear. I'm betting when you attended that private school your parents sent you to that if a young man were to have an opportunity to take you out that by the end of the evening he could be assured of two things. One, his wallet would be empty and two, he would have a rather swollen pair of blue balls."

Her eyes opened wide as if to say how dare you but I wasn't finished, yet. "I do know if any of them might have been unfortunate enough to charm you out of your knickers then they would have been quite disappointed to find out that you're not even half as good as you think you are."

Looking back, I wished she would have verbally attacked me back. It would have put an end to this foolishness but instead she wheeled, half dragging the poor creature behind her, as she stormed down a hallway before quickly disappearing from view. I sighed, knowing I had lost my temper. I tried to justify it by her actions, not mine, but I wasn't responsible for her. I was for how I had reacted.

As the minutes went by I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach and I wondered again if this might be a good time to take their leave. Instead I sat there, wondering what might be happening elsewhere in the home and when I got my answer, it did little to assuage my feelings.

When the two of them reappeared, the boy now wore a leather collar around his neck with a dogs leash attached to it. She proudly displayed him to everyone in attendance, parading him like some kind of show animal. Their sounds of delight at first disgusting me before turning to rage as she turned him so that I saw she was as capable of great violence as she was verbal abuse.

The back of the uniform was now in tatters, the flesh showing the remnants of some type of flogger which she had used with deadly intent. Droplets of blood turned the black material even darker and the look I gave her clearly said stay away from me. She was foolish enough not to pay attention or possibly just didn't care, thinking she was above reproach.

She marched up, the gurls head now hanging down on her chest, her eyes completely lost from my view though I was sure they were filled with pain. The green eyed so called dominant looked at me as I sat there and with a voice filled with triumph said, "I suggest an apology is in order, right now."

I slowly stood, fighting the internal struggle with my own rage, but when I saw the poor creature standing behind her I let my heart go out to him. The words I spoke centering on his needs, not those of his sadistic owner.

My voice was not quite as soft as the gurls had been as I said, "I'm so sorry Patrick that you had to suffer at the hands of this psychotic bitch. You deserve far better, this I know."

I was well prepared. The blow seemingly coming from across the room as she had already decided to give me the same punishment she had him only a short while ago. I reached up before the slap could get anywhere near my face, grabbing her wrist, and squeezing, quite hard. I cannot lie, it was extremely satisfying to see her eyes turn from hatred to fear and then to pain as I watched her slowly crumble until she was on her knees before me.

It was only then I noticed how the room had gone completely still. All those eyes on me as this time when I spoke, I made sure everyone could hear clearly. "Don't worry my dear; I'm sure after I've gone that your many fans here will happily help you restore your bruised ego. At first they reminded me of worker bees buzzing around the hive. Now I see them and you for what you truly are, leeches who find such great enjoyment in sucking the joy out of the lives of others. Either way, I find the present company to be a lot like that dreadful wine you served. Both cheap and tawdry. Good day to you all."

I let her go, making my way towards the door, but I had a feeling she might have something else to say. I was right.

"THIS ISN'T OVER YOU CUNT!"

I opened the door before turning my attention back to the figure still kneeling there as I gave her my sweetest smile. "Yes, I believe it is. If not, then please know I was quite kind to you tonight. Let me make a suggestion dear, stay in the kiddie pool. You're not good enough to go in the deep end and if you do, the big fish will eat you alive."

By the time I arrived at my waiting vehicle, I felt the adrenaline which had been coursing through my body beginning to wane. My dear friend and confidante Randolph held the door open but in seeing the look in my face he knew things had gone awry. "Trouble Madame?"

I sat down in the back, waiting on him to return to his normal position in the front of the vehicle, as I sighed before saying, "I lost my temper."

He rolled his eyes, our relationship after all these years a comfortable one as I heard, "I find that hard to believe Miss Rhonda. I see no blood on your clothing."

I had to stifle a laugh as he regarded me calmly, having known precisely what to say. "Shall we return home M'lady?"

I shook my head, my eyes on the front of the building I had just left. "No, let's wait a minute."

He didn't hesitate, simply turned his attention forward. It didn't take long as I saw the same door I had exited from open and a body was pushed hard into the street. He came crashing down like a drunk on a barroom floor, a simple valise thrown to land beside him, before the door was slammed shut. I could only watch as he picked himself up slowly, turning left and right to see if anyone had witnessed what had happened, before limping down the street. When he reached the end of the building, the figure quickly turning down an alleyway and I had a good idea why.

I saw the inquisitive look on the silver haired gentleman's face as I nodded before saying, "He shouldn't be long but when he comes out please drive past and pull over. I need to have a word with the gentleman."

Sure enough, only a minute or two later he walked back into view; the valise in his hand which I knew held the torn remains of his uniform. The t-shirt he had donned already stained with his blood on the back of it as we drove past. A block later I stepped out of the car, waiting on him to approach. His head remained down, looking at the sidewalk, but he stopped when heard me say, "Patrick?"

By his reaction you would have thought I had slapped him as she had. His eyes opened wide seeing me standing there as I said, "I just wanted to say how sorry I am you had to suffer because of the things I said to your Mistress. She should not have punished you simply to get back at me. I'm sorry."

He didn't correct me, tell me how I was wrong, he only stood there with his head again handing down. "Please, let me give you a ride home, okay?"

Randolph stepped out, holding the door but there was no response from the young man, his feet seemingly frozen to the ground. "I promise Patrick, it will be okay."

Still he just stood there and then to my great surprise I heard my driver say, "Boy, a dominant woman is speaking to you. I suggest you listen closely and obey or...," the implied threat hanging over his head as the older gentleman caught my eye and it suddenly dawned on me what he was trying to say.

The only thing the young man would respond to was either a direct command or the possibility of punishment. It hurt me, physically and emotionally, as I said in a rather cold voice, "I will not ask you again to get in the car young man. Now, I am telling you. GET...IN."

Not a moment later, he was in the vehicle, the look on Randolph's face speaking volumes as I entered as well and the door shut behind us. We were soon in motion as I looked at the cowering figure who sat with his back not touching the leather. He was showing his consideration for the vehicle and its owner by not wanting to stain the fabric with his blood. I felt my heart again go out to him, but I knew at the moment, I couldn't show it

"You have tried my patience enough tonight boy. I'm going to ask you a series of questions and you're going to answer them honestly and without hesitation. Do not dare nod, I require you to speak to me, is that completely understood?"

His voice again was modulated so that it was difficult to hear but he did obey saying, "Yes Miss."

Randolph nodded at me in the rear view mirror as I continued. "Do you have anyone we can call that can come get you? Perhaps a girlfriend, or your parents who will be worried if you do not arrive home safely shortly?"

"No Miss."

"Very well then, Randolph, please take us home now. This boy requires medical attention." I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and I regarded him coolly saying, "Don't even think about arguing with me young man. The woman who did this to you is nothing but a butcher. Your back will scar unless it is properly taken care of. That is the end of the discussion."

He just sat there, his head down, his eyes glued to the floorboards as the drive continued. Finally, we pulled into my home, the rather long driveway leaving me with privacy from the street. The house was a bit large for my tastes but my new business venture had required it. I had no idea at that very moment that my original foray into the products I sold was about to take on a new and interesting direction.

The young man walked between my driver and me as we entered the house and I opened the door to one of the guest bedrooms. "Take your shirt off young man. Get on with it." I hated being so brusque but once again he didn't pause for a moment and I heard my driver speak, his words betraying his rather stoic nature.

"For the love of god, who did this to you?"

I turned and saw Patrick with his back to the gentleman who had spoken but I had a few choice things to say of my own. I curbed my tongue though before I would have foolishly asked who was responsible for the three distinct cigarette burns surrounding his nipples and one scar on his ribcage which was prominently displayed. The look he wore more like an emaciated prisoner of war than a healthy human being.

I saw the pain in Randolph's eyes, his hands clenched at his sides, until he finally seemed to regain a modicum of control before leaving us. The boy stood there with his t-shirt in hand as I went into the bathroom, taking down a series of items from the medicine chest, before pointing to the bed. "Face down, right now."

As the time went by I cleaned and used one of the salves my company sold to make sure that the cuts would heal properly with minimal scarring. He never spoke a word, didn't complain, simply allowed me to tend to him until I pronounced myself finished and he began to put his shirt back on. The door opened and I saw Randolph enter with a bowl of soup, the steam still rising from it, along with two rather large sandwiches and a mug of coffee.

He looked at me with compassionate eyes as I once again played my role saying, "I'm not sure if you are aware of this or not Randolph but we are not operating a soup kitchen. None the less, the food will go to waste and that to me is unacceptable." I turned my attention to the figure who stood quietly, though I could have sworn I heard his stomach rumbling. "You will eat every bite, every morsel, do you hear me Patrick?"

"Yes Miss."

I left, moving out into the hallway where I stopped for a brief moment, having to regain my own composure. Seconds later my driver joined me, quietly pulling the door shut, giving him some privacy to hopefully enjoy his meal. I gave Randolph a look, motioning with my eyes down the hallway and by the time we were out of hearing's range, we had gone into the kitchen.

He started to speak but I held my hand up saying, "I know what you are going to say and you are correct. He will only respond to authority, kindness I fear has never played a role in his upbringing or his current lot in life. I hate though having to treat him so harshly but if not, he would still be walking only to god knows where."

Randolph nodded, his voice and demeanor having returned to normal. "I presume Madame that the anger you spoke of was directed at the individual who did that to the young man?"

I nodded, before telling him everything, the good and the bad. By the time I had finished I could see him visibly trying not to let his emotions get the best of him as mine had me. I think he would have gladly gone back to that home and done far worse to Patrick's owner than she had to him. For the moment though, we had more important matters to discuss.

It was almost an hour later that I returned to the room, wanting to insure he had not only followed my orders, but to see if perhaps he might like something for his pain. To my surprise, he lay motionless on the bed, an innocent look framing his face as he slumbered. I took one of the Afghans which were folded up nearby and laid it over him before once again retreating, this time to my bedroom.

Sleep that night was difficult to come by, my mind racing, thinking about the events that had led up to the young man who was sleeping in my home. I was normally an early riser and the next day was no different but when I walked down the hallway I noticed two things. Well really one, the other I heard. First was the door to his room which had been shut when I retired was now open. I looked in, seeing everything having been straightened and that there was a note on the pillow.

I picked it up at the same time I heard the sound of a door softly closing, the latch making an audible click when it was secured. I glanced out the window to see Patrick walking rather stiffly up the driveway, heading where I had no idea. First things first and I opened the note and once again my heart hurt for him.