Under Control - part twenty "This is Pauline, your new maid, Miss van Meer." It was Miss Mandy who spoke, having led Paul into Gloria's magnificent apartment. He curtsied, heart pounding, now that he was once again confronted by the supreme beauty of the woman who dominated his life so utterly. Gloria naked but for suspender belt, was having her stockings put on by another maid. "Thank you, Miss Mandy," she said, indicating that the overseer might depart. She gave Paul the most cursory of glances. The door closed behind Miss Mandy . . . and Paul stood, silent and humbly waiting, dressed in the traditional French maid's outfit of black with frilly white accessories. With a slap on the face, the other maid was dismissed from the room and Gloria beckoned to Paul to advance. He came mincing, hip-swivelling, curtsying again with bouncing breasts under the tight black chiffon. "Pauline . . ." mused Gloria. The shadow of a smile crossed her lips "I once had a male slave called Paul. So it's quite appropriate . . ." It must have been something about the look on Paul's feminised features . . . or maybe in his eyes . . . that made Gloria step forward and look at him more closely. There was a puzzled look on her face. It changed to a look of interest . . . and then of fascination. "Pauline?" she queried incredulously. "In truth . . . Paul . . . Mistress . . . ." said Paul in his newly acquired contralto. "But now . . . . I am your maid . . . P-Pauline . . ." Gloria burst into a peal of laughter. She slapped her thigh . . . and went on laughing. It seemed to her that this was the greatest joke ever perpetrated! She rushed to the house-phone and was soon loud in her praises to Mrs. Dupont. "I know I said Miss Mandy could dress him as a woman but I didn't expect anything as marvellous as this . . . Miss Mandy and Delia are to be profoundly congratulated," she said. "It's miraculous. Are you sure he hasn't been castrated? That under all this he's still got a cock on him?" She was obviously reassured and soon returned to examine Paul in more detail. Before long he was naked but for his high heels and corset cincher-belt. He walked, he postured, he played the woman to perfection . . . whilst Gloria looked on rapturously. At last she got up and left the room. I am a woman . . . a woman .. . . Paul kept saying to himself. I am Pauline, Miss Gloria van Meer's maid. * * * "It is amazing how quickly one becomes bored with slaves after breaking them in," Amelia Dupont was saying to her guest Gloria van Meer some weeks later. "Yes, I know what you mean," Gloria agreed. "That was why I was so pleased when you proposed the slave camp idea. Paul, or perhaps I should say Pauline, was not as stimulating or challenging as he used to be." "But I imagine your interest has been piqued recently?" Amelia smiled. "Will you keep him as woman?" "Of course," Gloria smiled possessively, "I shall keep him . . . or perhaps I should say her . . . for the time being. It really is most amusing. A quite incredible transformation." "I certainly agree that Miss Mandy and Delia are to be congratulated," smiled Mrs. Dupont. "They've taken a lot of trouble over it." "In a way, though," went on Gloria, "it's rather the end of the line as far as Paul is concerned. I mean he's reached rock bottom. Difficult to see how to subjugate him further, as a man I mean. There won't be much fun left for me!" "True," nodded Amelia, "but, as you say, he is amusing and can continue to be so. As a lesbian slave he will indeed suffer while he serves with that box on him, I would think that would amuse you. Also he might act as a rather telling example of what can happen when you start building up your squad." "That's a point," smiled Gloria. "He'll really shake them. I've already made some plans about my squad. The idea is to get young husky brutes. Not masochists as I've always suspected Paul truly was; even if he didn't know it. They'll all have to be tamed from scratch. My God think how much more pleasurable that will be, bringing macho men down a peg or two . . . I'm going to enjoy whipping them into shape." "I can understand your feelings," said Amelia. "Provided I think of whipping some arrogant young girl into shape." They brooded in silence for a while, their minds full of the pleasures of power and ownership. "When do you expect the first of them to arrive?" asked Amelia at length. "In about a couple of weeks," answered Gloria. "It has taken much longer that I anticipated, but at least the supply has now been arranged with virtually no risk of detection or failure." "Good," said Amelia. "The temporary camp accommodation should be finished by then. I've got teams of girls working on it every day; after you invested so much here I felt it was the least I could do." "Oh that's very good of you, you've done more than enough already," exclaimed Gloria. "You shouldn't have bothered. They could have stayed chained in the open until they built their own camp." "No bother," grinned Amelia Dupont, "keeps the girls busy . . ." "I can imagine," said Gloria. "Yes . . . that's a thought. I'll release Paul from his maid's duties and he can join one of the teams." "Good idea," said Amelia. "I'll have a word with Mandy. She'll give you a replacement for him. You are getting good service, by the way?" "Couldn't be better," nodded Gloria. Amelia Dupont nodded smugly. "We aim to please," she said. Gloria stretched. "Time for bedibyes," she said. "Goodnight, Amelia. Sweet dreams." "You, too, dear," answered her hostess.