The Descent Ch. 03 - The Show

It went by quickly, for a Friday. I was at my cube, head down and headphones on for most of the day. I checked my phone before I started the car to commute home, and had not received a message from Madam.

Her 7-Series was not in the lot, leading me to trudge inside, but not before a detour to the office to pick up my third and fourth, and final, packages. In my apartment, I again opened and sorted the new panties. One of the major perks of this apartment was the small over-under washer and dryer, and so my laundry never had to leave my place. I did have to get some more items that did a better job at caring for delicates.

I had no idea whether I would see Madam or not, so I took a moment to indulge. I slipped into a new pair of panties, a simply delightful peach color, satin, bikini-style. My clitty engorged as I slipped them up my legs, and I had to tuck it into the panties. I smiled and took a picture of myself dressed as such, and found myself wishing that I had a pair of white stockings. I thought they might look good with the peach panties. And a white negligee? I tilted my head to one side and pondered it.

Wearing only the panties, I did open my computer. My home page was now our shared site, and there was a message. Once more, a thrill passed through me as I clicked on it.

My dear sweet sissy boy,

I was a little concerned when I did not get a message from you last night, I will admit. So when I saw it in the morning, and read through it, I understood. No apologies are necessary, darling!

I will be home this evening, if I am lucky, around 9PM. I do hope that you want to see me, and give me a proper welcome home.

Cheers darling. I hope I shall see you soon.

I sat on the couch in my living room, a stiff clitty tucked neatly into peach panties, but otherwise unclothed. My phone sat next to me, the clock displayed, ticking down the minutes until it read 9PM. At five to, my phone dinged announcing an incoming text. Smiling, I picked up the phone and looked at it.

-Tell me what you are wearing?

I grinned at Madam's text, replying quickly. -peach satin panties and nothing else

A moment later: -mmm I look forward to seeing that

-Thank you Madam

She went silent; I assumed that she was back to driving. About ten minutes later, came the next text. -The coast is clear. Come over.

I snapped up my key and my phone, and my bag that contained some of my newer toys and panties to show her, and left my apartment. She stood at her doorway, waiting on me, and I crossed the empty corridor in nothing but those peach panties.

"Oh darling, how pretty!" she said as she saw me approach, and stepped aside to let me in. After closing the door behind me, she escorted me directly to her bedroom, bypassing the living room. She got onto her bed, and propped herself up in the usual manner, but her legs were together. She handed me a bottle of lotion.

"My darling, the only thing that has kept me going for the past three days, wearing those heels that make my feet ache so badly, is the thought of your nimble little fingers massaging me."

I squirted some lotion into my hand. "Nothing would please me more, Madam," I said.

There was pure silence in the room. Madam's eyes closed and her face went relaxed-slack as I pampered her feet. My clitty softened, my concentration on her feet was so consuming. Over and over, my fingers slid over sore flesh, sinew and bone, and rubbed the pain away. I had resolved not to stop until directed, and it was after forty minutes that her eyes opened. "I do believe, my sweet sissy, that you have performed admirably." She smiled, making my heart race for a moment. "I see that you brought a bag with you. Is it show-and-tell time?"

"Yes, Madam," I grinned.

"Excellent. Let's see your score."

Slowly, I brought out the panties; rather than all of them, in the varied colors, I had chosen a representative of each of the styles purchased. She seemed pleased with my decision. "Does this mean that you will give up your male underwear, except for those times when it is required, like during your runs?"

"Yes, Madam, that's the plan," I admitted.

"Oh I knew you were going to be a good sissy, but this good?" Her hand fluttered lightly to her chest, fingers splayed wide as she pressed them against her sternum. "Do go on," she said after recovering.

"I bought these," I said, and brought out the three cock rings. My clitty had stirred a little when the massage ended, a little more when we went through the feminine panties, and once again as she took the rings and looked them over.

"Mmm, so these keep your clitty nice and hard, and delay your orgasm, correct?"

"Yes, Madam," I said as I felt pleased by her approving look and tone.

"Now, these," I said, withdrawing the three plugs. She took them, smirking as she noted their hot pink color.

"I see what you mean. Kudos to you for choosing a truly sissy set of plugs," she said as she turned one over in your hand. "And you used them?"

"As directed, Madam."

"Which have you used?"

"The small and medium ones."

She nodded. "Very good." She put them down. "Anything else?"

"No, Madam, that is all."

"Am I, are you, are we, moving too fast, darling?"

"No, Madam. I have never felt more at ease doing something in my life," I assured her.

"You should know, as we have not even discussed this, that you must," she paused, as her British accent suddenly became far more pronounced, "you must tell me at once if you are uncomfortable with something. We will stop. Mind you, you will have to explain why you hesitate, and determine whether you can move beyond that and embrace that which I have set forth for you."

"I think I understand Madam. There have been a few moments where I have experienced hesitation, but they were short-lived. And I took pleasure from fulfilling the request."

She nodded soberly, "It's an important concept in a relationship like ours. You strike me as an honest, open person," she said softly, using my actual name for emphasis. "That honesty is what will make this work, and ultimately will make us both happier."

"I understand you fully." I said, looking directly into her eyes as I said that. "I agree that its an important concept, and will say so." Her expression softened. "Though it's none of my business, did something happen which caused you to say this?"

Her eyes gave it away, and it took her brain a moment to rationalize her reply. "Yes, with one of my pantyboys. A serious misunderstanding which has led to his dismissal. I was - am - deeply upset by it all, and therefore felt the need to clarify this with you."

"I appreciate your candor, I really, really do."

Her smile was soft. "As much as I would like to make love to you tonight, my heart and soul is simply not there." She lifted her hand, gently placing it under my chin, lifting my head so that I could look into her eyes, for mine had dropped, somewhat crestfallen. "I would love it if you slept with me, though."

My good humor was restored right away. "I would be thrilled to do that, Madam," I said. "And I apologize for being selfish about wanting you."

She patted my cheek. "No apology necessary, dear." We moved around as necessary and then we were both under the sheets. She yawned, bone-crackingly wide. "God, I'm tired."

"A long three days?"

She snorted. "You could say that. Men, in my profession, are boorish and arrogant. They think because I am an attractive woman that I am a push-over, much to their ultimate disappointment."

"I had a friend who used to say that assumption is the mother of all...mistakes."

"That's an accurate assessment. I work hard, I'm smart, and I'm among the elite in the financial world. Men always try to take me down a peg or two, because I am female. Essentially, they all call me a bitch, because I'm smart, assertive, and a woman."

"I don't think you're a bitch," I said.

She smiled. "You only know me as Madam. You don't know me as Catherine."

"Point conceded," I said. "What brought you to America?"

Her smile faltered. "That, my dear, is a long tale, and somewhat sordid and sad. It's best not told whilst snuggling warmly in bed."

"Okay," I said, accepting her mild rebuke for what it was. "Do you like it here, though?" I followed up.

"Yes, generally. I've been coming here for years, of course. But living here has given me a new appreciation for this nation and her people. I do prefer my home country, of course, but I am rather fond of America."

"That's nice. I've never been out of the country," I told her.

She tapped my chin lightly with her index finger. "Perhaps one day, darling, that will change." That was the last thing spoken by either of us, as the comfort of the bed and the draw of sleep took hold.

It occurred to me the next morning, when I awoke first in her bed, that I had no idea what to do. We had been evening partners only, focused on sex. How might we get along in the daylight hours. So preoccupied was I with these thoughts that I did not notice her waken. She sat up and wordlessly left the bed, and returned a few minutes later wearing her gauzy housecoat, and evidently nothing else.

"Well, good morning, darling," she said warmly. She held in her hands a similar housecoat. "Will this do?"

"Nicely, Madam," I said, uncovering the sheets in order to retrieve her offering. She saw the outline of my clitty in the panties, not erect, merely the outline, and smiled at it, then met my gaze.

"I wonder, was last night the first night all week you've gone without spilling your cummies?" she teased.

"Yes, Madam," I agreed.

"Hmmmm." She tilted her head. "Your turn. We'll sit in the living room and talk." After conducting the usual morning business, I returned to her living room.

"Do you drink coffee?" she asked.

"I do."

"You'll make us some?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course," I agreed, and headed to the kitchen. Once it brewed and I learned how she took it (one cream, no sugar), I carefully walked the mugs out, handing her one and then sat on the couch. We sat, sipping, and not really conversing until the caffeine kicked in.

"I do love a good morning cup of coffee," she said.

"Me, too." I was at a loss for words, really. So I guess I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "What do you usually do on weekends, here?"

A sour expression crossed her brow. "Work, usually." She saw my look, and chuckled. "Well, what else am I supposed to do? It's not like I have - or had, rather - much of a social life."

"But your pantyboys, Madam?" I said.

"That's mostly online, darling. Not in person. They're far too afraid of their own shadow to attempt something as daring as an in-person meet."

"Oh, I did not know."

"Now fuckboys on the other hand," she said with a smile. My face fell again; I could feel it, though I did not want her to see it.

"I'm teasing, sweetie. I've not had a fuckboy in some time. A little bit goes a long, long way," she said more than a little coldly. She set her mug down. "I have no official plans for myself, you, or us, until this evening that is. This evening is something else entirely. So the question is, do you have something?"

"No, Madam, unless you want to join me in a run?" I asked hopefully.

She laughed, hard at that. "Oh heavens no, darling!" she chortled. "I get my exercise, but not by running."

I grinned. "You won't mind if I run, later?"

She turned a little, to face me. "No. In fact, I admire that you want to keep in shape. But if you are going to run, I do want you to be prepped for a dinner date with me this evening. We leave here at 6PM. Make sure you shave," she added.

"I will, Madam," I promised. After a few more moments we finally got into a different conversational rhythm. Some of our roles fell away, though not entirely. We spoke for about an hour. We did our usual for me to sneak back to my place, and then I changed out of my feminine attire, donned running clothes and had a longer run - ten miles. I felt the need to do it.

I did other chores after that, some shopping for mundane items, and then once home ensured all my bills were paid. I had nothing left to do except prepare for the evening, and as I saw it was close to four I figured that I'd relax in my cramped tub for a while.

I did, and carefully shaved, and used the new female-centric razor I bought, which did a nicer job I thought on my legs. After I used lotions to keep them smooth and silky. I did not ponder why I savored having smooth, silky legs; I just knew that I did!

I was dressed smartly for our dinner date plus, and selected a pair of burgundy panties that matched my toenail polish. But that was it, and at six sharp I was escorted by Madam to her car, where she performed the customary male role of opening the door for me, allowing me to enter before she did, then got into the car and fired it up. It was a powerful car, with sleek lines and a posh interior. Soft classical music played over the radio as we chatted.

Our restaurant was in town, in an area well-known for two types of shops: adorably cute or expensively fashionable. There were many couples milling about, and we were not the only old/young couple in sight. Our table was again in a darker area of the restaurant, and we had another precisely-mannered server. A bottle of red wine was purchased, which we sipped at slowly over a wide-ranging conversation. We were still in that get-to-know-you stage of a relationship, no matter the roles of our relationship. She had been in New York, working at the main office. She related some stories about work, as I did about mine. I did mention Shana and her boyfriend.

Supper ended at eight-thirty. We stood and stretched, and walked along the street, holding hands as we did so. We stopped at a store here and there, and then came to her car. She stopped and smiled, and pointed at a darkened store front. She fished out her mobile, and dialed a number.

"Margaret? Yes, its Cath. I'm well, I'm well. How are you? Good? Are we still on for this evening? Oh yes, she's with me. Watching me, in fact," Madam said, turning to face me, smiling at me while on the phone. I watched her breath turn to steam as it hit the cold night air. "Ah, yes, I heard it. On our way." She killed the call.

"Come on, my sweet sissy boy," she said, declaring our roles for the moment. We walked up the steps to the darkened building, and the door unlocked and swung open. We stepped inside, into the darkness, and the proprietor closed and locked the doors behind us. In the entryway there was a dim security light, and in that light I saw Madam and I assumed Margaret exchange a big hug.

They kissed, European style, cheek to cheek. "And who have we here?" Margaret said, turning to face me.

"Margaret, this is my sweet sissy boy. We've not bestowed a name yet, however."

"Perhaps later."

"Yes, perhaps." As Madam replied, Margaret pulled me into her own big embrace.

"It's delightful to meet one of Cath's sissies," Margaret said as she broke the embrace. She held my shoulders, and looked me up and down. "You definitely have the physique for it," she commented.

"Now now, let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"Of course, Cath." Margaret released me, and stepped away. "Well, my friends? If you will please come in?"

An inner door was opened, and we stepped into what I knew immediately was a very high-end woman's clothing shop with an emphasis, it looked, on lingerie. As if my clitty needed any more assistance in rising!

There was a small peninsula that jutted out from what looked to be a stage. Upon that stage were racks of clothing and several mannequins all showing off different attire.

"My sweet sissy boy?" Madam said.

"Yes, Madam," I turned to face her.

"I shall explain this evening's event to you. You, of course, will be the star. You will be modeling several outfits that Margaret has chosen specifically for you - for us. Since I will be the one paying for the attire. But you will be the star, our catwalk model. I do hope that you will perform admirably for us," she said.

I would not say that I suspected as much, but at the same time I was not overly surprised. My mouth was a little dry, and that little ball of fear formed in my stomach, and my heart kicked up a notch, but I held all those physical things in check. "I am nervous," I admitted. "But I don't want to let you down."

"You won't, darling, I know it. Once you get into what she has provided for you...you'll be so immersed in the feminine and aroused by it all that being a little catwalk model will come as second nature to you!"

I was led through a side door, and through narrow hallways to a set of steps which ended back stage behind the curtain. "So I wanted my niece to be here, to help with the setup," Margaret said, "but Cath forbade it. Even though my niece likes her sissies, too."

I nodded, feeling the warmth of some blushing going on. My Madam warned Margaret with a quick shake of an extended index finger. Margaret grinned. "Okay, sissy, over here," Margaret said, guiding me to a well-lit make up station. "Cath, have at it. I'll go get some of the wigs," she said and left.

Madam guided me into a seat. "Now, now we will see how beautiful you look as a woman," Madam purred softly. "Don't you want to see that?"

I was so astonished by it all that I could barely squeak it out: "Yes!"

"Outstanding. So without further ado," she gestured for me to sit. I sat and kept my eyes closed while I felt brushes applied, and tugs at my eyebrows, and other things. It was hard to remain steady while they applied something to my eyelids, but I managed. They conversed, as Margaret had returned, and aided in the work, but I was so lost in the sensation of it that I barely heard their words. About twenty minutes later, I felt a wig pulled onto my head. It went back and forth, adjusting, until it was just right.

"I noticed that your eyes were closed this entire time, my sweet sissy. Did you peek?"

"No, Madam."

"Then please open your eyes, and see yourself transformed."

I did.

I almost had to blink back tears. I felt my hand rise to my face, slowly, as if controlled by another, and pressed a fingertip to my cheek. "Oh...oh my..." I whispered. I was not looking at me. I was looking at a beautiful woman, with smoky eyes and perfectly done cheeks. Whatever magic they had done, practically eliminated any semblance of my maleness. I looked like a woman, not a man playing as a woman, but a woman. "I'm..."

It was Margaret, not Madam, who chimed in: "Beautiful. You can say it, hon," she said in a soft, nearly reverent tone.

"I am. Thank you. Thank you both," I said, still staring agog at the mirror. I turned my head, and looked and studied. "Oh my god thank you!"

"We're not done yet, my sweet sissy," Madam said softly. They took my hands and polished and scrubbed my nails, and then put on a ruby red polish. They touched up my toes; Margaret was especially excited to see that I'd had a pedicure, and that my nails were done.

"Now, one last thing," Madam said. "I am not normally a proponent of chastity devices," she said softly as she withdrew a pink one from her purse, "but at the same time Margaret and I agree that you will most likely have a swollen clitty throughout your show. So this is so that you do not ruin the effect."

I swallowed hard. "As...as you wish, Madam," she said. I finally then stood and stripped from the rest of my clothing, including the burgundy panties (which drew raves from both women). I stood, and Madam affixed the device to me, using a little spit to lubricate my swollen clitty and slide it into its cage. It was firmly attached to me, encaging me completely. I would be a liar if I did not admit that it was hot.