Dom’s Sissies Pt. 19: Party Preperations (Patreon)

"Daddy," Ava moaned as she watched Mia bob up and down on his large cock, "You take my sissy sister so good!"

"I know, baby, I know," Dominic groaned as Mia kept riding him, her plump balls beneath her caged clitty repeatedly slapping against Dominic's stomach.

He grinned at having his Sullivan sissies call him "Daddy." If only their real daddy knew. Though, Richard probably at least had an idea, the defeated fuck.

The two sisters looked almost identical these days. They weren't twins, or even quite the same age, but ever since Dominic had made their father and then them agree to his bargain, he'd taken particular pleasure in making them resemble each other more and more as they blossomed into Ava and Mia. By now, it was sometimes difficult to tell them apart.

Mia tossed her head, sending her enormous tumble of dark brown curls bouncing around her shoulders. Ava's own hair looked almost exactly the same, although her curls fell in slightly more defined ringlets, while Mia's had a habit of puffing out in every direction.

Dominic brushed a few stray curls away from Mia's face, revealing her warm brown eyes, softly rounded cheeks, and full pink lips. Ava had much the same features, although her own face was a touch longer and Mia's a little rounder.

They even had practically identical petite, slender figures. It was no wonder people so often mistook them for twins, especially when they wore matching outfits, as Dominic liked them to do. They'd never looked quite so much alike when they'd been boys.

Ava and Mia both had come long since to understand they were little more than trophies in the final chapter between Dominic's and their father's long and studied rivalry. The two men had fought over businesses, debts, and money, with Richard Sullivan struggling to preserve what remained of his financial empire while Dominic steadily tightened his grip. In the end, Richard had saved his businesses, but only by accepting a bargain that left his sons at Mercer's mercy. Not that they had been fully innocent, they had been adults themselves when they signed. They just hadn't known where it would all end up. Though both of them suspected their father had known from the beginning, that seeing their sissification through had been part of the bargain.

But the knowledge that it wasn't even primarily about them didn't help Mia at all as she involuntarily let out another scream of pleasure. Another leaky orgasm was clearly nearing. The third one? Fourth one? She had no idea anymore. It was incredible and yet humiliating to be so fully in the hands of another, and these sissygasms were truly both.

For Mia, moments like these were perhaps the only times she truly disappeared into the role of a sissy and simply became Mia. When pleasure overwhelmed everything else, and the usual tension disappeared. That tension of knowing, on some level, that she was still, always would be, performing. She wasn't sure if that meant that sissification wasn't real, or that she wasn't a sissy, or if it meant nothing at all, but in this moment she didn't think about any of it. Right now, the question of whether she was actually experiencing an identity or simply performing one just didn't occur.

Ava watched her sister, feeling that familiar, awful mixture of tenderness and guilt. Mia looked so different now. Her slender figure, her soft curves, the enormous tumble of dark curls around her face. There was hardly anything left of Chris Sullivan in the pretty young sissy before her. But "hardly" didn't mean "nothing," and a shadow of Chris remained in her features. One might have thought Mia was his sister. But the warm brown eyes, and that familiar little crease between her eyebrows whenever she was concentrating, those had been Chris's features, as much as they were now Mia's.

It was terribly strange to be in the same room while her own brother was naked and so completely exposed to another man's attention. Stranger still that Ava had become accustomed to it. Once, she would have found the very idea unthinkable.

She had been his older brother. She was supposed to have looked after him, wasn't she? Protected him from people like Dominic Mercer. Instead, she'd let Chris become Mia, just as she'd let herself become Ava. She knew perfectly well that neither of them had stood much chance against Dominic, but that didn't make the guilt go away. Chris had needed his big brother, and Avery hadn't saved him.

Now all she could do was look after Mia as best she could. And if that meant being Daddy's sweetest, most obedient little girl, then that was what she would be.

At that very moment, one floor down, Monday morning found Alistair Ashcroft at his desk. In his capacity as the headmaster of Dominic's first and still largest sissy training center, he was working through the weekly residential census.

His office was a spacious, severe-looking room that perfectly fit Ashcroft's perception of himself and, more importantly, intimidated any sissy called into his office. Dark wood paneling, towering bookshelves, heavy burgundy curtains, and an imposing grandfather clock gave the room an atmosphere of old-fashioned authority. Behind his massive mahogany desk, Ashcroft sat in a comfortable, high-backed leather chair, while a deliberately smaller and less comfortable chair stood opposite him. It was reserved for the sissies, who were meant to feel small and insignificant as they sat looking up at their headmaster.

As always, Ashcroft began his weekly residential census by examining the attendance register on his computer. Twenty-four sissy students, divided evenly among the beginner, intermediate, and house girl classes. Three additional sissies were listed under special residential arrangements. All twenty-seven were accounted for:

Finished Class:

• Ava (Avery James Sullivan)

• Celine (Cedric Maxwell Hayes)

• Gabriella (Gabriel Emilio Echeverría Salinas)

• Jasmine (Jamie Jackson)

• Jessica (Jacob Fink)

• Lexi (Levi Daniel Hennings)

• Madison (Matthew Elias Reed)

• Mia (Christopher Evan Sullivan)

Intermediate Class:

• Angel (Angelo Ávila)

• Ashley (Ashton Michael Litzman)

• Brittany (Brian Pritchard)

• Isabella (Sebastián Ávila)

• Kylie (Kyle Fox)

• Lavender (Leander George Kallergis)

• Melody (Marcel Luca Perrault)

• Stella (Steven Satterfield)

Beginner Class:

• Candy (Christopher Pendergast)

• Cherry (Aidan Thomas O'Connell)

• Chloe (Corey Porter)

• Lily (Liam Everett Dawson)

• Minnie (Max Bielski)

• Misty (Maurice Darnell Waverly)

• Petal (Peter Hayrick)

• Sophie (Samuel Ellwood)

Special Residential Arrangements:

• Miu (Masato Kitagawa)

• Pearl (Peter Daniel Rusk)

• Tiffany (Terrence Porter)

Two, however, required a minor adjustment. Ava and Mia Sullivan had already been marked absent from their morning class, which had begun twenty minutes earlier. What Roxy, who was currently teaching the class, didn't know, but Ashcroft did, was that Mr. Mercer had personally excused the sisters that morning. Naturally, this took precedence over the ordinary timetable, so Ashcroft marked their absences as excused, ensuring they wouldn't be punished. After all, to Ashcroft, this was a severe establishment, but not an unfair one.

With that settled, he turned his attention to a much more consequential task: the upcoming medical residency of the entire beginner class at the Vejara Institute of Reconstructive and Aesthetic Medicine in Bangkok.

He opened the relevant file and looked at the latest correspondence from the institute. As was always the case with these operations, all eight students were scheduled to travel together, although their individual consultations, operations, and recovery periods would naturally follow different timetables. There were still passports and travel arrangements to verify, hospital admissions to confirm, and a considerable amount of medical paperwork to complete, he noted.

The undertaking had been delayed for some time. Until the recent arrival of Corey Porter and Liam Dawson, now Chloe and Lily, the beginner class had consisted of only six students. Mr. Mercer had been unwilling to authorize the trip while the class remained incomplete. He preferred to send his students in full groups of eight, allowing the institute to reserve an entire treatment period for the Foundation rather than arranging separate visits.

It would be an expensive and logistically demanding undertaking, but Ashcroft had organized such trips before, and the results had always been worth it.

Dominic Mercer was an incredible man. To think that Alistair should get to spend his twilight years actually living out a fetish he had harbored since the 1970s! For most of his life, it had seemed destined to remain firmly within the realm of fantasy. That was, at least, until Ashcroft had first met Mercer in 2007.

Of course, practically everyone employed at the Foundation shared an interest in sissification. How could it have been otherwise? The Foundation's true purpose was concealed behind so many layers of shields and screens that no ordinary applicant would ever stumble upon it. You had to know somebody who knew somebody in the scene, who in turn knew Dominic. You had to be trustworthy, demonstrably interested in sissification, and, above all, have someone vouch for you to Dominic Mercer or someone within his circle even to be considered for employment.

Even the enthusiasts willing to pay the outrageous subscription fees for Sissy Social Premium had no idea how, or more importantly where, the videos they loved were produced. In fact, the convincing appearance of a finished Mercer sissy had led to accusations that he was using real girls in his pornography and simply editing chastity cages onto them in post-production.

Mercer's circle, in fact, would be gathering at the mansion the following Saturday for a major celebration. Mr. Mercer had just concluded an extraordinarily profitable business deal on the West Coast and had decided to mark the occasion by inviting a select group of friends and acquaintances who shared his particular interests.

Ashcroft had been entrusted with much of the practical organization. The guest list had to be finalized, accommodations assigned, catering arrangements confirmed, and the evening's entertainment coordinated. There was also the question of which sissies would be required to attend and in what capacity.

Such gatherings were among the highlights of the Foundation's social calendar, and Ashcroft took considerable pride in ensuring that everything proceeded without the slightest embarrassment to his employer.

All in all, between the upcoming Bangkok trip and Saturday's festivities, it promised to be an exceptionally busy week.

Elsewhere in the mansion, preparations for the latter were already underway.

"And remember, my dears, Mr. Mercer has invited some very important people for Saturday!" Clara Bell was saying to the assembled elite class before her. "So we simply can't have anyone making a poor impression, now can we? That would be terribly embarrassing, especially for those of you who ought to know better!"

She smiled brightly, allowing the warning to settle before clapping her hands together.

"Now then, let's see how well you can all behave yourselves! Follow me, please. We have some lovely little exercises prepared for you today."

She led the eight elite students down the corridor and into the academy's joint classroom. Unlike the rooms reserved exclusively for sissies, this one was decorated in relatively restrained colors, with white walls, dark wooden furnishings, and not much in the way of sissy accessories. This one specifically existed to allow for classes requiring both sissies and elites and, as such, could accommodate up to sixteen students rather than the usual eight.

Eight double desks stood in four rows of two. At each, a finished sissy was already seated on the left, leaving the adjoining chair empty. Emily, by now, recognized some of the eight, though even the ones she didn't know yet looked immaculate in their little mock schoolgirl uniforms.

"Now then, my dears!" Clara announced happily, clapping her hands together. "In preparation for Saturday's event, we're going to practice being perfectly charming and well-mannered! That means learning how a proper lady or gentleman treats their little sissy, and how a good little sissy ought to behave in return. And since we'll be working in pairs, I thought I'd let you pick your very own sissy for the lesson! Isn't that lovely?"

Jessica sat at the left-hand desk in the second row, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Of course, the elites got to stroll around the classroom and take their pick, while she and her fellow sissies had to sit quietly, look pretty, and wait for someone to choose them. Despite this, Jessica simply kept a pleasant smile on her face, knowing better than to provoke her ex-girlfriend Clara, especially in front of the elites.

Emily glanced around the room. The sissies remained seated, waiting to be chosen, while the elites began moving between the desks.

She found herself looking toward Madison, whom she already knew. The pretty girl was sitting with her hands neatly folded on the desktop, wearing a pleasant little expression that was just adorable. When their eyes met, Madison gave her a little smile.

"Hey, Maddie," Emily greeted her lazily after walking over, being the second to have chosen a sissy, with only Jason already sitting beside Jessica.

"Hi, Emily!" Madison replied cheerfully, turning toward her.

It was still hard for Emily to believe that their little exchange just now had technically taken place between a boy and a girl. Though really, moments like these were becoming increasingly rare. Moments when she consciously reminded herself of a finished sissy's past. Most of the time, it simply never occurred to her anymore. She accepted them as they were now, as though their feminine mannerisms and deferential behavior toward her were things they had always possessed.

"Now then, my dears!" Clara happily announced once everyone had found a seat, clapping her hands together. "Before we begin, I thought I'd explain what exactly we'll be doing this week, and why!"

She smiled at the assembled students, looking particularly pleased with the four beginner elites, Emily among them.

"As I'm sure you've all heard by now, Mr. Mercer will be hosting a rather important celebration here at the mansion this Saturday! He's invited a number of very distinguished guests, some of whom have been friends of his for many years, and naturally we want to make an excellent impression. After all, we wouldn't want anyone going home thinking our little academy doesn't know how to teach its students proper manners, now would we?"

She giggled at this.

"So, every day this week, we'll be having joint lessons just like this one, where we'll practice all the little things you'll need to know to conduct yourselves properly on Saturday. Now, for our eight finished girls and the four intermediate elites, most of this will be familiar territory already. You've attended functions like these before, and I expect you to be very helpful to our newcomers!"

Her gaze moved toward Emily and the other three beginner elites.

"For you four, however, quite a bit of this will be new! But don't you worry, sweethearts, nobody expects you to become accomplished hosts and hostesses in just five days. We simply want you to know what you're doing, so you won't spend the whole evening standing around looking lost!"

Clara began walking slowly between the desks as she spoke.

"First, we'll be practicing some very basic dancing! Nothing spectacular, mind you. There will be music on Saturday, and naturally some of our guests will want to dance, so you should at least know how to take the lead, guide any little sissy you choose around the floor, and avoid stepping on her pretty little feet!"

She laughed at that.

"And remember, you're the ones leading! Even if your sissy happens to be a much better dancer than you are, which, considering how much practice our finished girls have had, is actually quite likely! But don't worry, girls, we'll be practicing that too. I know how tempting it can be to help someone who's struggling, but you mustn't go taking the lead away from your elite just because you happen to know the steps better. That would be rather naughty, wouldn't it?"

A few of the finished sissies nodded, Madison among them.

"Then, of course, there's conversation!" Clara continued. "You'll be meeting people who are considerably older and, in many cases, rather more experienced than yourselves. Some are important business associates of Mr. Mercer, others are personal friends, and a few have been involved with the Foundation for a very long time. So we'll practice making introductions, keeping a pleasant conversation going, and knowing when it's appropriate to speak and when it's better to listen. We'll also teach you how to excuse yourselves politely, and what to do if someone asks you a question you don't know how to answer. Because believe me, my dears, standing there with your mouth hanging open isn't a particularly good answer!"

She looked signficantly around the room.

"And something particularly important is how you address your sissy in front of guests. Now, during ordinary classes, we're quite happy to let you chat with your sissies in a relatively informal manner. Some of you have even become rather friendly with them, which is perfectly fine! But Saturday will be different."

Clara stopped beside one of the desks and rested her hands lightly on its edge.

"You see, when you're accompanying a sissy at a formal function, you're responsible for her behavior. And that means you have to be a little more authoritative than you might be used to. You give her instructions, and she follows them. You don't ask her three times, you don't argue with her, and you certainly don't let her make a little fool of herself in front of Mr. Mercer's guests! Now, that doesn't mean you have to be unpleasant. Quite the opposite, actually! A good elite should be perfectly capable of correcting a silly little sissy without raising their voice at all."

She smiled down at the finished girl sitting beside her. "And you girls know all about that already, don't you? You know how much nicer everything is when you just behave yourselves!"

"Yes, Miss Bell," came the cheerful reply.

"Good girl!"

Clara straightened up again.

"We'll also practice what to do when a guest wants to speak to your sissy. Remember, girls, you don't just go chattering away whenever someone looks in your direction! Your elite is responsible for introducing you, and unless you're asked a question, you keep that pretty little lipsticked mouth closed. And if someone compliments you, you thank them properly, of course. No giggling and hiding behind your elite like a silly little schoolgirl!"

She paused for a moment, apparently considering something.

"Well, perhaps a little giggling is alright," she conceded with a grin. "We wouldn't want you to be boring, after all!"

This was answered by a few polite laughs around the room.

"And then there are all sorts of other little things we'll be covering. Table manners, serving refreshments, the proper forms of address, how to behave when Mr. Mercer introduces someone important, and how to make sure your sissy looks presentable throughout the evening. We'll even practice what to do if a guest gives your sissy an instruction, or if two guests happen to want her attention at the same time. We wouldn't want our poor little girls getting confused and running around like headless chickens, now would we?"

Clara clapped her hands again.

"Now, I know that sounds like an awful lot, especially for our beginners, but I promise it's all quite simple! And remember, the point of all this is for everyone to have a wonderful time on Saturday. Mr. Mercer is being very generous by allowing you to take part in such a lovely occasion, and I'm sure none of you would want to disappoint him!"

Her smile widened as she looked toward the eight finished sissies.

"And as for you girls, I expect nothing less than your very best behavior! You've had years to learn these things, after all, and it would be terribly embarrassing if one of our brand-new elites had to remind you of your manners! Especially since I know perfectly well that every single one of you knows better."

She let that settle for a moment, still smiling.

While Clara Bell was busy preparing the elites and finished sissies for Saturday's party, the eight beginners were attending their own classes elsewhere in the mansion. Unlike the elites, they had little reason to concern themselves with the upcoming festivities, and their usual curriculum continued largely uninterrupted.

One of their lessons that Monday morning was devoted to something that, in Liam's mind, basically amounted to "sissy yapping". It was taught by a man named Julian Langford, a new teacher, at least for Corey and Liam. He was a tall, thin, good-looking man in his early thirties, with dark hair and a clean-shaven face, and was wearing a dark blue turtleneck sweater.

He was also gay, a fact they had learned within the first ten minutes of the lesson, when Langford had mentioned his boyfriend while telling a rather lengthy story about an embarrassing dinner party.

"And that, girls, is why you should never confuse being interesting with being interested," Langford was saying now. "A good conversationalist doesn't spend the entire evening talking about herself. She makes the other person feel interesting. It's a very useful skill, actually, and one I wish rather more people possessed."

He smiled at the class, revealing a set of beautifully straight, brilliantly white teeth. Corey couldn't help noticing how perfect they looked, and wondered whether Langford had had some cosmetic work done. Probably veneers, he figured.

Then Corey caught himself. What the fuck was he doing thinking about the man's teeth? Here he was, sitting in a classroom in Dominic Mercer's mansion, dressed like a girl and being taught how to talk like one, and he was wondering whether his teacher had veneers. It was something he'd done all his life, really. Whenever he didn't want to be somewhere, his mind would just wander off or he would start daydreaming, and before he knew it, several minutes had passed.

Only doing it here seemed increasingly dangerous. Corey was reminded of that story about a frog being slowly boiled alive. Supposedly, if you threw a frog into boiling water, it would immediately jump out, but if you put it into cold water and gradually increased the temperature, it would just sit there until it was cooked. Corey had no idea whether that was actually true, but he was beginning to understand the point of the story. A bizarre image of himself getting increasingly feminized while sitting inside a comfortable whirlpool suddenly floated before him.

"Now, of course, there's nothing wrong with telling a funny little story about yourself, provided it's appropriate," Julian was saying. "But you mustn't dominate the conversation. And you certainly shouldn't try to impress someone by telling them how much you know about a subject they happen to be interested in. Nobody likes a know-it-all, girls. Especially not a know-it-all who doesn't actually know very much!"

Corey glanced toward Liam. His best friend was sitting with his hands folded on the desk, looking straight ahead. He hadn't even rolled his eyes at Langford's remark. In fact, Corey couldn't remember him having made a single sarcastic remark since the lesson began.

Since the whole police debacle, about which neither of them had spoken since, Liam had become unusually subdued. Not exactly sad, but quieter than Corey was used to. He had barely spoken during breakfast, and when one of the instructors had corrected the way he was sitting earlier that morning, he had simply adjusted his posture without arguing.

Corey had almost expected him to tell her to fuck off.

After they had abandoned their plan to go to the police, the two of them had spent most of Sunday afternoon wandering around New York, neither particularly eager to go home. Eventually, Corey had returned to his mother's place, where Tiffany and Emily were still visiting, and Liam had gone back to Hank's, knowing his mother still wouldn't be there. Later that evening, Amanda had driven all of them back to the Mercer mansion.

It had been a strange drive.

Tiffany had been in an excellent mood, chatting with Amanda about the weekend and occasionally turning around to ask Corey or Emily something. Emily had seemed perfectly comfortable as well. She and Tiffany had spent quite a bit of time together lately, and Corey had noticed that the two of them were becoming really friendly. This was something he wasn't entirely sure how to feel about. On the one hand, it was nice that Emily got along with Tiffany. On the other hand, the ease with which she now treated his dad as an ordinary woman, and even addressed her as Mrs. Mercer, continued to bother him.

Liam, meanwhile, had barely said anything. Even after they arrived at the mansion, he had remained unusually quiet. And now, sitting beside him in Mr. Langford's class, Corey was beginning to wonder whether something else was going on.

Something else was indeed going on. Liam Dawson was fucking furious.

He had been furious yesterday, furious throughout the drive back to the mansion, furious when he woke up this morning, and he was furious now, sitting in a classroom while some guy he'd never seen before presumed to explain to him how he had to behave.

This rage, however, wasn't as straightforward as it usually was for Liam. Usually, Liam found that anger made things easier. When he was frightened or embarrassed, getting angry gave him something to do about it. He could swear, argue, threaten, or, if things went far enough, fight. It wasn't always a particularly intelligent response, and he knew that. But at least it was a response.

It was something to do.

Liam had learned early in life that there were bullies who would keep pushing you around for as long as you let them. He had encountered plenty of them at school. Some were bigger than him, some were stronger, and a few were both. But he'd discovered that even the biggest asshole usually became a little more careful once he realized that picking on Liam Dawson wasn't going to be particularly enjoyable.

You didn't necessarily have to win a fight. You just had to make it costly. That was Liam's understanding of things.

Liam had only ever seriously fought his stepfather once. Hank had been very drunk that evening, even by his standards, and Liam, who had already been in a shitty mood, had said something that made him absolutely livid. He couldn't even remember exactly what he'd said anymore. He could, however, remember what followed with extraordinary clarity.

Hank had grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him against the refrigerator. Liam remembered the sudden shock of it, followed almost immediately by anger. He'd hit Hank back. Not particularly hard, since he was far weaker, but hard enough to surprise him.

What followed had been the worst beating Liam had ever received. Hank was a big man, much heavier and stronger than his stepson, and Liam hadn't stood much of a chance. But he hadn't simply curled up and waited for it to end. He'd fought back, biting, scratching, and repeatedly failing to kick Hank in the balls.

It had been his mother yelling and crying, threatening to call the police and accept getting arrested herself, that had finally made them stop.

At any rate, Hank had never done anything like this to him again. So Liam had begun regarding this as proof that he'd done the right thing. Hank was stronger and would win every fight, but he'd also learned that winning against Liam just wasn't worth the trouble.

But Mercer was completely different. A bully unlike any Liam had ever faced before.

"Now, Lily!"

Liam looked up, surprised.

Mr. Langford was smiling at him. A blindingly bright smile. The turtleneck he was wearing reminded Liam of pictures he'd seen of the late Steve Jobs. Julian somewhat resembled him, he thought, though he didn't wear glasses and had longer hair.

"Let's have a little example, shall we? Suppose someone at a party tells you that you have a lovely dress. What would you say?"

Liam stared at him for a moment, thinking, "I'd tell that bastard to fuck right off." Instead, he muttered, "Thank you."

"Very good!" Langford said brightly. He had been informed about Liam before the class and took his response, bare though it was, as a good sign. "Although we could sound a little more appreciative, couldn't we? Remember, girls, someone has just paid you a compliment."

Langford decided to leave it at that. Having been warned about Lily's difficult behavior, he considered even this unenthusiastic response a small victory. Corey meanwhile glanced at Liam, half expecting some sarcastic remark once Langford was no longer looking. But Liam just sat there, staring at his desk.

What Corey didn't know was that Liam was still furious, mostly with himself. Yesterday, he'd been too scared to walk into a fucking police station, and now he was thanking some stranger for an imaginary compliment about his dress. He'd always believed that letting bullies have their way was the worst thing you could do.

And yet that was precisely what he seemed to be doing lately.