Aretta Ademola is one of the world’s most successful marketing executives. However this wasn’t enough for her. She also craved control; control over men and the power to feminise them. After a successful career in marketing, and in forced feminisation in Spain, she moves to a new job in London and sets about rebuilding her lifestyle by selecting an unsuspecting man to be her next target; or is that her next victim?
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The Natural Order
Aretta Ademola gazed from her black leather armchair around her vast contemporary penthouse apartment in the Barrio de Salamanca; the smartest district in Madrid Spain. An open area of tiled flooring and sparse glossy square furniture in brilliant white. Pristine and ordered just as Aretta expected it to be. Brahms symphony no.4 in E minor sweeping though the room like a swirling roller-coaster.
A black laptop was open on the dining room table, a light from its logo casting a dull glow on the shiny surface. The apartment was furnished in an exclusive and expensive fashion and she had earnt it through her single-minded focus and efficiency, through her steely determination and through her domination of all she came into contact with. Especially men.
“Would Mistress Ademola like anything?” Her housemaid’s voice fighting against the volume of the violins filling each corner and bouncing from every surface.
Aretta looked up from her smart-phone where she had been absorbed in a marketing report, the glare of the phone’s screen lighting up her toned unwrinkled face in the low lighting of the apartment. She glanced up and shook her head side to side slowly, her thick red lips pursed, her long wavy black hair shook side to side. There was no smile to accompany the negative answer. Her stony face hid her satisfaction at her maid using her surname with her title: Mistress. Respect, that’s what she demanded, it wasn’t much to ask for. And obedience, blind obedience.
She continued to peer at her maid imperiously. The maid’s blond hair, too perfect and too light to be a natural colour but it was full in body and rested on wide shoulders accentuated by a thin slender body-frame. Drop earrings caught the light through the maid’s hair. Aretta’s eyes watched as her maid’s eyes lowered to the floor to avoid her piercing aggressive eye contact. The maid knew from extensive training not to seek direct eye contact with the Mistress. Aretta’s mouth twitched, the beginnings of a smile of satisfaction, always satisfied to see her housemaids dressed in tight black satin dresses, the smooth hairless light skinned arms looked out of place alongside the over-sized breasts. The maid’s wide shoulders were topped with a frill on each side of the dress’s arms. A brilliant white pinafore hung around the maid’s waist with frills surrounding it. The dress flared out from the maid’s waist, so short it barely covered the pink frilled knickers beneath it and it did not cover the stocking tops at all, leaving an area of bare white smooth flesh between the knickers and the stocking tops starkly broken by silky black suspender belt straps. A white frilly petticoat protruded below the hem of the little dress, rustling as the maid moved around the apartment.
As Aretta’s eyes fell down the maid’s body towards the long exposed legs, covered with patterned black stockings, white flesh peeking through the widely spaced diagonal patterns and finally finishing in slender ankles with patent black leather shoes below them. Thin stiletto heels gave an undeserved elegance to the maid’s slender legs. The maid hadn’t always been so willowy, it had taken Aretta’s strict training programme to make it this way.
The maid waited to be dismissed, eyes swivelling, discomforted by Aretta’s contemptuous stare and visual exploration, not that she had never experienced it before. The maid had been wearing this clothing type at Aretta’s insistence since starting to work for her over eighteen months ago. It was not negotiable. The maid could do nothing but endure the humiliation as the consequences of not doing so were worse.
Aretta waved the maid away disdainfully and returned to her work on her smart-phone.
Relief passed across the maid’s face who curtsied deeply, a drop of the head and eyes firmly on the floor. Aretta did not acknowledge the submissive gesture but she saw it from the edge of her vision and was satisfied. Aretta missed nothing.
“Wait,” ordered Aretta suddenly. She stood up, a hand on a remote control winding the music volume down to background level as she put her face two inches from her maid’s face. Aretta could smell the cheap perfume over her own expensive brand. The maid’s large pores on her face not fully disguised by a layer of light foundation, smoky dark grey eyelids blinked rapidly on a pale face and perfectly black pencil lined brown eyes fluttered. Aretta put a finger to her maid’s face and ran it along a strong jaw line.
“I can feel stubble here Juanita,” her face darkened, “how many times do I have to tell you to be smooth. You are a girl, you must have a smooth face.” Aretta never raised her voice, her assured authoritative manner made that unnecessary. She stared with undisguised disgust at the maid, her head lowered, her eyes narrowed. The maid cringed down, his head moving into his shoulders, eyes fixed on an imaginary spot on the wall awaiting the inevitable punishment. He didn’t know how to respond, he had been sure he had shaved smoothly, using a five blade razor in the morning and again in the afternoon just as Mistress Aretta insisted. He must have missed a bit; careless. Aretta missed nothing.
“I cannot trust you servant girl. This now means electrolysis to permanently remove your facial hair. Clearly you need something more permanent because you are so useless, you all are. Useless girls. Anyway,” she continued calmly but in a tone dripping with anger and menace, “I probably need to do something more permanent generally with you so it’s for the best in the long run.” Aretta sighed loudly at the inconvenience of having to arrange this.
“I’m so sorry Mistress, I really thought I’d..,” she cut him off with a long elegant hand towards his lips, leaving his protestation hanging sharply in the air. He could see her long talon-like dark red varnished nails.
“I don’t want to listen to your snivelling excuses you stupid girl.” She slapped him hard around his face. His hand instantly went to his reddened cheek, eyes wide with anguish. His long light pink nails on his fingernails blending with his now inflamed cheeks.
“You will stand in the corner with your knickers down,” Aretta flicked her fingers together twice to snap him into action. Juanita pulled his knickers to his ankles immediately as instructed and waddled to the corner with small steps as the knickers impeded his steps. A grin swept over Aretta’s face as the sight of his desperation to do as he was told and his difficulty in achieving it in stiletto heels and ankles bound by knickers.
“Candie,” Aretta called and a second maid tottered from the kitchen area in high heels, dressed identically to Juanita. He curtsied, asking how he could serve.
“Candie, get me the large wooden spoon.” He curtsied but his eyes showed apprehension and swept across to see his colleague Juanita in the corner and then disappeared back into the kitchen. Juanita was standing, worried, facing a corner of the apartment with his small frilly pink knickers hanging loosely around his ankles, his knees touching. The shortness of his dress exposing the bottom of the cheeks of a taut naked arse. A small but bright luminous pink rubber flange covering the area of his arsehole indicating an inserted butt plug. Five inches long but she would soon be switching it for one of six inches. Candie returned from the kitchen with a twelve inch long wooden spoon, glancing momentarily at Juanita again before handing the implement to his mistress. Aretta grabbed the spoon, her sparkling blue eyes full of restrained anger. Angry but in control.
Taking the wooden spoon from Candie, Aretta strode over to Juanita with the implement held high as his head turned to see her arrival. She raised his dress hem with a manicured hand to expose his entire arse and told him to bend over. The implement crashed down. Juanita jumped with the impact which left a large spoon shaped red welt on his bum cheek. She followed up nine further times, each time Juanita’s body jerking with the stinging pain.
Once finished she pulled his hair standing him up and spun him round to face her. They were eye to eye as she lifted the front of his dress with her dark slender hand exposing a pink cock cage firmly encased around a cock struggling to expand inside and held in place by a small golden padlock. Aretta gave out a “ha” as she lifted his caged cock to expose hairless balls and brought the wooden spoon down on them with a loud slap which for the first time made him stifle a scream before tears came onto his eyes, causing his mascara to begin to run down both cheeks of his face through the redness on one facial cheek.
“Ok turn back into the corner and stay there until I tell you to leave,” she said, breathing loudly though her nose in impatience as she mumbled to herself about having to be forever managing and controlling her girls, “and what do you have to say to me girl?”
“Thank you for your punishment mistress.” His head bowed, knickers crumpled around slim ankles.
She returned to her black square backed sofa and sat down picking up her phone again, the sharp white light reflecting off her deep blue eyes, the eyes that ensnared everyone. She looked at the time on the phone display screen. It was 9pm, time for dinner, she went over to the dining area and sat at the wide smoked glass table with crossed wooden support legs. Outside the lights from a thousand rooms in a hundred Madrid buildings twinkled though a large picture window into the low lighting on the apartment.
“Candie, bring me my dinner and a glass of red Rioja wine.”
A voice emerged from the kitchen among the clanging noises. “Yes Mistress Ademola, right away Mistress.”
“Men are such bores when they are permitted to think or give opinions or have any power,” she mused, “a feminised man is the only way. The benefits to the world are so great, There is no downside.”
She looked up and gazed around her apartment, a closed door to her bedroom with her own bathroom and another door, open, to the maid’s bedroom. Always open. They shared of course and had bunk beds. Both cock-caged and arse-plugged, she didn’t want anything untoward happening without her control. The swish of Candie’s petticoat advertised the appearance of her food as he served her a salad dish and a plate of mixed seafood. He stood back still facing her and curtsied wishing her a good meal.
“Yes,” she thought, “this really is the only option for men. The only way.”
Aretta believed that all men were weak, all men without exception, although she held many women in contempt too. Not for their weaknesses like men as women were strong. No, she believed that many women never understood or used the genetic superiority they held over men and therefore lived incorrectly.
Aretta ruffled feathers but, as with all superstars, it was accepted by those around her due to her successes and abilities in business. She made her company money, lots and lots of money. She had few friends but many admirers not only for her business skills but also, it has to be said, for her stunning looks. Heads would turn everywhere she went. Not only her regal beauty but her regal demeanor. She looked like a queen and she acted like a queen, a queen ruling in the court of feeble males.