Miss Vicky Harker

I did so enjoy reading Mark's letter in the October 2016 issue (Mom Dresses Me in Women's Clothes) about how his wonderful mother encourages him to accept feminine attire as the norm. Mark should be praised for his deference to her wishes. A truly caring mother, once she gets over her disappointment at having a son rather than a daughter, will see it as her maternal duty to encourage him to overcome the inevitable sinful and repugnant male desires that will arise through the adoption of more virtuous feminine ways.

Unfortunately few males are as compliant as young Mark in this endeavor and often a stricter regime of chastity and feminization will need to be imposed in order to work towards the desired effect. Sad to say my own younger brother is a case in point. At 20 he still has to fully overcome his wayward male ways and wholly submit to the appropriate female authority. Trust me it is not through lack of trying! All through his adolescence Mother and I enforced a strict programme of feminization and obedience training. At 16 we insisted he leave school and he became Tiffany full time (the pretty name we have chosen to replace the rather more ugly "Timothy"). To this day Tiffany is subjected to a constant programme of petticoat training and has a little mantra that "she" is made to repeat many times daily: "chastity, femininity, fidelity". Fidelity in his case meaning devotion to our dear mother who has made it her life's mission to subjugate his wicked ways. Tiffany is constantly reminded that Mother knows best and Mother is to be obeyed at all times. However despite our best efforts Tiffany still disappoints and infuriates us on a regular basis. She lives at home with our mother and has been told many times that Mother is the only one for her and she is not to look at or even think about any other women. Yet she seems quite unable to get this simple message into her stupid male brain.

On Sunday afternoon I left my own pathetic excuse for a boyfriend strapped snugly into his high chair (more on that another time perhaps) in order to drive the 30 minutes from my sedate suburban neighbourhood to our family home, Primrose House; an old, rambling isolated house on the edge of wildest Dartmoor. It's remote location has made it a simple matter for Mother and I to keep Tiffany's existence hidden from prying eyes. It is approached by a short over grown lane and as I drove along it I wondered what I would find on my arrival. Mother still manages to surprise me with her inventiveness even after all this time and it turned out I was not to be disappointed!

As I parked in the cobbled courtyard area at the front of the house she came out to greet me. She is a, tall, upright, imposing woman of fifty years who has kept her looks despite her age. She has beautiful auburn hair which she keeps in an old fashioned beehive hair style that adds to her height and the natural air of authority it brings with it. She was wearing a rather chic luxurious turquoise satin blouse with a stylish pussy bow at the collar. It was offset by a gorgeous tight black leather pencil skirt that Tiffany had obviously been polishing because it positively glistened in the autumn sunlight as it hugged her figure. The seams of her sheer black nylons where, as ever, perfectly straight. I noticed that she had new shoes; black patent stilettos that had the cutest diamanté detail on the pointed toes. "Vicky darling!" She gushed as we hugged and gave each other air kisses. "How wonderful to see you. Come on in. Tiffany is simply dying to see you. We spent an age getting her ready for your visit". Many people have commented on what a wonderful relationship Mother and I have and often remarked that we are more like sisters. Indeed we do share a great deal of tastes and interests together including our pleasure in running well ordered and disciplined households where the woman of the house is accepted as the unquestioned Queen Bee.

We entered the house chattering about my journey and our heels click-clacked on the the stone floor of the echoey hallway as we walked towards the living room. However my voice instantly died away and I gave a little gasp of sheer delight as I entered the room. Mother had outdone herself! Tiffany was standing stock still in the middle of the large room wearing her frilliest, girlish party frock. A large uncomfortable looking ball gag was forced into her mouth and buckled tightly at the back of her head ensuring a compliant silence. Her arms were both forced behind her back into a single white leather punishment glove which was hooked into an eyelet on a belt she was wearing. This device ensured she stood straight with her shoulders wide and her chest pushed out. The discomfort that the glove along with the cruel gag caused had made her quite misty-eyed creating a rather pleasing mute, tearful expression.

Frilly, frothy petticoats filled out the childish frock which was a shiny pink and white confection of taffeta, satin and net done up at the back with a large pink feminine bow. White, lacy tights set the dress off nicely and some delightful black, patent Mary Jane shoes completed the ensemble. Her legs were bound tightly together below the knees with leather straps ensuring that the poor darling had no choice but to stand passive and still submitting to the humiliating display that had been made of her. The entire effect was completed by a big pink ribbon bow (that matched the sash on her frock) tied into in her hair. Large amounts of blusher had been applied to her cheeks giving her face a rather doll-like impression.

You will understand Helga the image of a 20 year old young man who should be at the height of his male powers presented in this demeaning manner was absolutely breath-taking and I found myself beginning to get quite excited at the prospect of what the afternoon might hold. "Tiffany was so excited when she heard you were coming to visit she absolutely insisted on wearing her best frock for you didn't you darling?" Mother teased. I moved round to the front of Tiffany and thrust my face into hers so we were eyeball to eyeball.

"Well Tiffany sweetie" I cooed joining in with the taunting "you look an absolute treat. What would people say if they could see you? What would all your old male friends from school say if they could see you now? Shall we take some photos with your old phone and text them ? I'm sure they would love to see how you've changed" Unable to speak or respond Tiffany dropped her eyes shamefully to the ground unable to meet my gaze. "Yes Tiffany" Mother joined in picking up the theme "and what would happen if we drove you down to the village square and made you get out the car. You know what those rough farm boys and their girlfriends who hang around there are like. Whatever would they do to you? I can just imagine those cruel girls egging their oafish boyfriends on. It doesn't bear thinking about!"

At the idea of what might happen if Mother carried out her threat Tiffany let out a low moan of fear through her gag. "You see Tiffany" I continued "you're a lot safer here with us as our frilly little plaything aren't you darling?". Mother started moving towards the door "Now then your sister and I are going to enjoy a spot of lunch whilst I tell her all about your naughty goings on and we decide what we are going to do with you. You can just stay here and enjoy a little quiet time on your own. But don't worry sweetie we'll be back before you know it. Come along Victoria" she chimed over her shoulder. Obediently I hurried along behind her.

In the old farmhouse kitchen mother had prepared a sumptuous cold meat lunch which we washed down with a glass of red wine. Although I was driving she absolutely insisted that one glass would not do any harm and would help get me in the mood for what was to follow. "I am afraid Tiffany has been earning some tickles" she said (Miss Tickle is the pet name for her riding crop). She went on to explain that the night before whilst watching Strictly Come Dancing (an appropriate programme for Tiffany as there is a focus on the beautiful dresses the ladies wear). Mother had got the distinct impression that Tiffany was looking at one of the female contestants in an inappropriate way. "I am quite positive that the naughty child's imagination was full of disgusting thoughts and desires" she said "and to make matters worse the wicked creature had the nerve to lie to my face and try to tell me that she was not thinking impure male thoughts when I challenged her." I tutted loudly in disapproval (although to be quite honest I'm sure Mother is quite capable of imagining these things) and asked "Well Mummy whatever are we going to do with the naughty child?". We spent the next thirty minutes discussing various options before settling on our plan of action as we ran through various scenarios I could feel myself beginning to get quite excited at the fun and games which were to follow.

On our return to the living room Tiffany was ordered to bow into the naughty corner. This was easier said than done as the straps round her legs made keeping her balance as she did this somewhat challenging. However slowly and miserably she managed to lower herself into the required position. Once she was bent over I stood in front of her and lifted up the many layers of her frock and held them in place so that her pantied bottom was exposed in all its frilly glory. Then it was "panties down for Mummy" so that she was finally fully exposed and ready for her "tickles".

To help build Tiffany's trepidation at what was to come Mother began running her crop softly over her buttocks and giving soft little taps "Oh dear Tiffany" she said in a quiet, level voice "here we are again and you have been such a naughty girl. You were thinking impure thoughts and then you compounded your disgraceful behaviour by lying to Mummy didn't you?". There was a moments pregnant pause then mother hissed in a violent and frightening voice that made even me quail "Didn't you?". Knowing that disagreeing with Mother's account would make her situation far worse than it already was Tiffany miserably nodded in agreement. "Finally the truth!" Mother exclaimed triumphantly then bought the crop swiftly down across her buttocks "Naughty, naughty, filthy girl!" She spoke administering a hard stroke of the crop with with each word. "Naughty girls meet Miss Tickle" she continued emphasising each word with another cruel blow. Tiffany jerked slightly each time the crop came down and moaned into the gag.

After a few more strokes Mother stood back to admire her handiwork. A satisfied smile came to her face as she observed that a number of red lines now crisis crossed Tiffany's buttocks. The moisture in Tiffany's eyes had now overflowed and tears of pain and humiliation ran down her face causing her mascara to run. Mother and I changed places and Miss Tickle was passed to me. "Really Tiffany I am so disappointed in you." I began "Whenever will you learn that good girls do not have sinful thoughts?". I left a moments pause so that Tiffany's trepidation could build up and then without warning delivered 12 more strokes in quick succession. The riding crop made a rather delicious swishing sound as it descended repeatedly onto her flesh and once again Tiffany rewarded us by giving some rather amusing little jerks as she received her tickles.

When I finished I was slightly breathless and I must admit a little bit aroused. Briefly my mind wondered to the vibrator awaiting me in my bedside table at home and I knew that later on my on I would replay this scene in my imagination whilst that appliance worked its magic. However Mother and I had agreed a plan regarding Tiffany's afternoon of correction and I was honour bound to stay until we had carried it out. As I stood back to admire my own handiwork I felt a thrill of pleasure at the thought of what was to come.

I am afraid I have to leave it there for now Helga as I believe my presence is required in the nursery. I do hope this account might be of some interest to the ladies who read your wonderful publication.

Yours affectionately
Vicky Harker
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