Veronica Pt. 02 - Her Take

For the second part of this story I've flipped perspectives - now its told from Veronica's point of view.

The story features fetish content, strict Female Domination, caning and humiliation. If these are of no interest to you, I suggest you read no further. If these tickle your fancy, or you're curious, I hope you enjoy it and consider rating it favourably. Positive feedback / comments are welcome.

*****

I was furious -- the nerve of the fellow! It's one thing having a fetish for fluffy sweaters and wanking off in the privacy of your own room or house, quite another violating a woman's private space and tossing off to her cardigans. Appalling, disgusting - in MY room, with MY cardigan.

While I left him waiting in his room for me, I rang Jo, my daughter, to work out what to do with him. She always has Friday evenings off, and I knew she was taking it easy that evening in her private space behind her 'office'. It used to be my 'office' too, until I handed her the reins five years ago.

Between the two of us we came up with a plan. She said she'd be over in an hour -- she suggested having him shower and scrub up after I'd taken to his rear with the cane. A good idea. She soon texted me: remove his body hair too. Of course - sissies don't get to keep any body hair.

I picked up the cane and strode towards the bathroom. He was drying himself when I walked in and tensed up immediately: a perfect response. I wanted him on edge around me, afraid of what might come his way.

"Put the towel on the rack and then stand at attention."

He stopped drying himself and looked at me, nervousness oozing out of every pore.

I tapped the cane against my trouser leg. "I don't want to repeat myself. And you don't want me to repeat myself, I assure you."

"Sorry." He turned, put the towel on the rack then turned back again and stood at attention.

"It's "Sorry Ma'am.""

"Ah yes, umm..sorry Ma'am."

"You will be if you keep forgetting to address me properly. Bend over the bath."

He obeyed. His bottom was, of course, heavily marked and blushed red-blue. "Thank me after each stroke."

I brought the cane down immediately, right on the spot where his bottom met the top of his thighs. A very delicate spot. He yelped but immediately thanked me.

Another stroke on the same spot. A louder yelp but he didn't hesitate to thank me again. And then another, with an accompanying 'thank you'.

"Up and at attention."

He stood back up and I saw him taking in my red cowlneck, noticing his willy starting to rise. "Are you getting hard, you perverted young man?"

"Ah..." he swallowed a little.

I tapped his willy several times with the cane, increasing the intensity with each stroke. His willy responded by becoming harder.

"Well, is it my cane or is it my fluffy red cowlneck making you hard, hmmm? Or is it my manner? Do you like being told what to do?"

He blushed, swallowed again and shook his head from side to side, complete confusion written across his face. He tried to speak but couldn't. I was enjoying his discomfort.

"We'll soon get to the bottom of your cravings, you perverted, fluff-obsessed, little sissy-fag." He blushed again but his weeny flexed, the words clearly touching something in him.

"Step back." He did as he was told.

I lent in and opened the second draw of the cabinet and removed a razor and a bottle of Nair.

"Fortunately for you, you don't have much body hair. What you do have is disappearing. And for good." His eyes widened.

"Shave your arms, legs, chest, underarms, and pubes. When that's done, rub this lotion over your body, including around your arse. Don't do your face or head. After that, stand with your feet apart, arms out and wait five minutes. Then have a shower and wash the lotion off."

I tapped his willy again. "Understand?"

He looked terrified but responded properly this time. "Yes Ma'am."

"Good. And once you've finished drying yourself, stand at attention here and wait for me to fetch you."

"Yes, Ma'am!" he almost yelled.

I flicked his pecker with my cane. "And if you do anything naughty with that little thing of yours, you know what will happen, don't you?"

"I do, Ma'am. I promise I won't."

"Get on with it." I walked out and looked at my watch. Jo would be here in 15 minutes.

I guessed he'd have his own collection of female knitwear and so I headed to his room to look through his things. Sure enough, stashed in a suitcase under the bed were three sweaters, all ultra-femme...along with a bundle of knitting patterns and magazines! I took the suitcase with me to the lounge.

•

I heard Jo letting herself in. When she stepped into the lounge, I laughed. "Look at you! Just perfect." We kissed.

"Hello Mum. Your sweater's rather nice, too."

She had on a gorgeous, rich, wide-ribbed, deep purple, angora turtleneck, which fell to her mid-thighs. A wide, black, patent leather belt was around her waist; cherry-red leather pants and chisel-toed, Cuban-heeled, brown-leather calf-length boots completed her outfit.

Her luscious red hair was up in a high bun; she had spared nothing with her make-up, emphasising her almond-shaped, deep blue eyes, high cheekbones -- she got them from me -- and wide lips. Her nails glowed with vivid red nail polish.

"And I have presents from the 'office', too." She held up two large plastic bags.

I looked in one and lifted a box out and laughed again. A plastic sex doll.

"Off the shelf?" I said, chuckling.

"Indeed - I get a discount for bulk purchases. Have about five, all just waiting for moments like this."

Jo removed a fluffy pink cardigan from the same bag.

"Mohair. I have a couple of cardigans and sweaters among the racks of tranny and sissy outfits. Sweaters do seem to emphasis a feminine look, don't they?"

"Absolutely!"

"Where is the pervert?"

"In the bathroom." I cocked my ear. "Shower's still running - he must be washing off the last remains of his body hair."

"Never to be seen again!" Jo said with a smile.

"Yes, he's certainly chosen the wrong household to indulge himself in."

I showed Jo his collection of sweaters and knitting patterns and books. "Wow, his porn stash!" We both laughed. "We're obviously dealing with a complete and total addict. Wonderful. I suspect his resistance will collapse pretty quickly."

"Yes, I think so too. I've met enough fetishists in my time to know when it dominates their lives. And he's one of them, otherwise he'd never have done what he did. Obsessive, and ruled by his dick," I said.

Jo and I had already decided we'd take plenty of pictures of fluff-boy, threatening him with exposure if he didn't do as he was told. She now suggested we video everything too. I thought it was a wonderful idea. "He'll be absolutely petrified of that getting out."

"For sure. Yes, it's a bit different to clients who like being filmed. I'm guessing they wank off to videos of themselves being beaten, bound, dildo fucked or dressed as faggots. Some of them are taking a serious risk keeping those videos."

I heard the water being turned off and the shower door opening. "Do you want to surprise him in here or in there?"

Jo smiled mischievously at me. "Mother, I leave it up to you."

"Thank you, my dear." I decided to let him remain in the bathroom for a little while, leaving him to dwell on his predicament and the noise and chatter coming from here.

Jo set the camera up on a tripod while I moved chairs and a table around. We nattered as we worked, Jo telling me she was heading to New Zealand for four weeks after Christmas. A long-term Kiwi client was paying for her to fly there and stay at his luxury holiday house near Queenstown. Serious business.

"He's an out-and-out pain slut," she told me. "And I'm more than happy to indulge his intense fantasies and inclinations." She was spending two weeks with him, then two weeks travelling about, on her own, all expenses paid for. I had a couple of long-term clients like that, back in the day. So much fun and enjoyment, and a great -- and inexpensive -- way to see the world.

After ten minutes it was time to fetch fluff-boy. I picked up one of his femme sweaters, a pale yellow, soft, fuzzy, cable-patterned, mock turtleneck, puffed at the shoulders and sleeves, folded it over one arm and made my way to the bathroom. I stopped in the doorway.

He was standing to attention as ordered. He took in my gaze and then saw the yellow sweater, a look of shock passing over his face. "Yes, your stash is a secret no more. Confirms what a hopeless addict you are. But don't worry, we're soon going to have you sorted, good and proper."

I stepped closer and let my words hover in the confined space for perhaps 30 seconds, there to taunt him, all the while looking over his bare skin. I twirled my right index finger his way. "Turn around." He obeyed without hesitation.

He was thorough with his hair removal -- good. "Bend over, spread your cheeks. I don't want your sissy arse ruined by a single hair." He obeyed; I noticed his sphincter flex a little.

"Clean and smooth. Good. It will be remaining that way from now on. Afterall, no man wants to shove his big cock into a hairy sissy hole." His sphincter flexed again. Nothing like a headfuck to heighten insecurities and increase tension.

"Up and turn. Let's get you dressed in the way you're clearly accustomed to."

I put the sweater on him; a look of surprise emerged on his face almost immediately. No doubt his smooth, hairless body was feeling new sensations, the soft, fluffiness against his skin much more intense than usual. His willy started to stiffen. I smiled to myself, thinking how easy it was to manipulate him.

I stepped in and adjusted the sweater's hem, then ran my fingers and nails along the high collar, for effect -- sure enough, goosebumps erupted over his skin. And then I played with the shoulders and sleeves, emphasising their puffiness. "There. Much more girly." He blushed but his pecker throbbed in apparent agreement.

"Stiff again...hmmm. Well, we'll soon sort that out. Keep your eyes lowered and follow me."

I led him down the hall, into the lounge, stopped, stepped to one side and turned to face him. Jo was standing in the centre of the room, feet slightly apart, a riding crop in her right hand, my cream-coloured, cum stained, angora cardigan in the other. "Eyes up."

He obeyed; the look that swept over his face was priceless.

"So, you're the filthy pervert my mother told me about."

He turned towards me, hands together, pray-like. "Please, I'm...really...really sorry...I won't..."

"Silence!" said Jo. He stopped and turned towards her, a tortured look on his face. His erection had vanished.

Jo took a deep breath, puffed herself out and stepped towards him. "I am Mistress Josephine."

He stepped back from her in fear.

She held up the cardigan. "Sneaking into my mother's room, ruining her lovely cardigan...what vile, disgusting behaviour. You're clearly incapable of resisting your pathetic urges."

He blushed, shuffled his feet nervously; his hands and lips started quivering and shaking.

Jo stepped right up to him. "Well, you're going to be paying a high price for your urges, a very, high price. After what you've done, it's what you deserve. Isn't it?"

He couldn't bring himself to look at her. "Yes, Ma'am," he responded softly.

"Mother and I expect total obedience from you. No exceptions. And everything is to be done correctly. Or else. You can start by raising your eyes to mine and addressing me properly."

He raised his gaze slowly. "Yes...ah...Mistress Josephine." He flinched.

To be continued...