panty toy on Twitter

Mistress,

I am honoured to be your panty toy.
Knowing that you are amused at the sight of my tiny maggot makes me feel good/humiliated that I am a lowly slave to my majestic Owner.

I feel both honoured and humiliated when told to post my pics on twitter, but I know obedience to you, my Mistress, comes first.

Your panty jonathan

Forced Feminisation At Boarding School

My wife Caroline and her best friend Susan had signed up for a weekend retreat that promised a realistic experience of an old English private boarding school.  The only thing was there was a minimum requirement for three pupils and so I was dragged in as well.  They didn’t tell me it was a boarding school for girls, but they had warned me that there would be some dressing up, just like in a “How to Host a Murder party”.  I had to admit it sounded interesting and the location was exceptional and the food and lodging was advertised as superior to school standards.  There was even wine with dinner.

Now, Caroline knows I like to cross dress and I guess she probably confided as much to Susan.  Either way when we arrived and I realized what was required I couldn’t back out; Caroline’s look told me she knew this was something I would enjoy regardless of any protestations on my part.  More so, the Head Mistress who greeted us, who we were to refer to as Mistress Eleanor, gave me a stern look  and after getting us into our uniforms and complimenting Caroline and Susan on their smart appearance, just said to me with a note of disappointment “You’ll just have to  do.”

There is not much you can say about a school uniform and really I suppose, apart from the skirt, it was pretty unisex.  I was almost disappointed: vest, no bra; socks, no tights; and of course flat shoes and no makeup.  Caroline and Susan wore bras and if I’d have been asked I would have said I thought that was unfair, doubly so when I later found out we would be playing tennis – the sight of the two girls playing tennis braless would have been literally boggling.

The accommodation was a dormitory, basic but certainly a lot better appointed than it would have been when it was part of an actual girl’s school.

We went almost immediately into lessons.  The first one was French and I got the feeling I’d been set up as I knew Caroline had studied the subject at school and Susan had travelled extensively in France.  My French was limited and I nervously took the French 101 book from my desk and stood to read out loud as Mistress Eleanor instructed.

Well, it was about fifteen minutes of Caroline and Susan giggling and laughing as Mistress Eleanor continually corrected my pronunciation of the text.  Finally she gave up and told me I was a stupid girl and proceeded to put a dunce’s hat on my head and lead me to the naughty corner.  I was quite mortified by this and listened in silence as first Caroline and then Susan read aloud without any trouble or correction. Mistress Eleanor then dismissed them for morning tea which I later found out was a nice spread of coffee and cakes brought in from a local tea rooms.  I however had to stay in the naughty corner and be content with a glass of water.  Mistress told me off for pouting and that if I had been a better girl I wouldn’t be missing out.

For the remaining lessons we practiced calligraphy, studied domestic science and did some embroidery before games in the afternoon.  Of course my hand wasn’t the neatest and so I had to wear the dunce’s hat again.  My cooking skills also were not up to par and I was left to eat my rather dull scones for lunch rather than the nice looking sandwiches that the others enjoyed.  They also had juice, but I just had water again.

Most of the afternoon was given over to games which turned out to be Caroline and Susan playing tennis while I had to “pretend” to be the “ball boy”; something that they thought was very funny and even Mistress Eleanor had a few laughs, particularly went Caroline chided that I had to pretend as I wasn’t a boy as I was at a girls’ school wearing a skirt and that anyway, I didn’t have any balls.  I blushed and was further shamed when Susan smiled as Caroline lifted up her little finger in the time honoured indication that I had a small penis.  I’m not sure what Mistress thought of this behaviour and I almost expected her to tell the two of them off, but instead she chuckled and said that maybe a girls’ boarding school was the best place for me.  

Caroline and Susan playing tennis was actually fun to watch.  They had changed into sports bras and tennis shoes, but still had on their school skirts.  Those skirts would fly about as they swung their rackets and I would get lovely glimpses of their knickers, ugly school girl knickers it is true, but it was still pretty sexy, especially when Caroline would comment on it, shouting out: “Saw your knickers!”  “Break an elastic!”  Susan was a bit prudish to start with, but her competitive spirit overcame her modesty and forced Caroline to concentrate more on her game and less on her taunts.  I enjoyed the display and the exercise in running after the balls was good.  It certainly beat sitting in the dunce’s corner.  However afterwards it was a bit embarrassing when Mistress Eleanor told me off for displaying my knickers as I was fetching the balls which had Caroline and Susan in fits of laughter.

It goes without saying that my sewing was a failure.  Mistress Eleanor told me I would be repeating the task for homework, at dinner time.  So, there I sat, dunce’s hat on my head again, dinner getting cold, sewing my name, “Marcia” onto a handkerchief.  Each time I finished stitch I had to recite my name and it became quite hypnotic and soothing.

Caroline and Susan had finished the wine by the time I joined them so I had to content myself with water again.  I must say the catering was superb, not that I got to enjoy any of it much.  I suppose in that way I was getting more of a real experience of what it was like at a girl’s boarding school.

Mistress Eleanor came to check on us and enquired how everything was going.  Caroline and Susan said they were having a great time.  My opinion wasn’t sought, but as I sat squirming, Mistress Eleanor snapped “What is it Marcia?”

“Please Mistress may I use the bathroom?”  Caroline and Susan burst out laughing and as a result I didn’t hear Mistress Eleanor’s response and so had to ask again.

“You really are a stupid girl.  The answer’s now no.  Not until you go to bed.”  She stood looking at me and could see I was desperate.  “In fact it is best if you go to bed right now you silly girl.  Give that empty space in your head some rest.”  Shame faced I made my way hurriedly to the dormitory and rushed to the loo, leaving Caroline and Susan to an enjoyable night of watching some TV and possibly having an adult conversation with Mistress Eleanor about what they expected on the second day of our weekend stay.

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