Sandra The Spy

Engagement – Return to Duty

    With family blessing, Richard and I were engaged on my first Yule leave. A brief legal ceremony at City Hall. I pledged him in future marriage, holding his testicles firmly. I signed documents with Mother and Adele.

   Of course, we females did all the important things. He merely had to look cute and submissive. Stand naked beside me, hand in mine, eyes on my feet. Preferably with proud drooling erection and well-spanked swollen purple fanny. He performed it perfectly.

   I have to take some credit. Earlier that morning, I did Richard’s toilet and toilette, gave him a howling spanking, oiled his genitals to glistening glory, and inserted a very respectable butt plug up his tight rectum.

   Any young man would have a hungry erection after that. But still, he looked sexy and scrumptious.

   Next to the Gestation Center, where we created an embryo. Then home, to dress for our combined-family supper. Adele took care of my honey while I quickly changed into dress uniform.

   Richard was pouting for some reason when I came back. There was no need for sulking. The new flouncy frock looked terrific on him.

   It was so silly. He wanted to wear shirt and tights. Not a shameful frock, no matter how lovely it was.

   I squatted down, his hard prick against my face, my hands gripping his lush fanny cheeks overflowed.

   “Darling, men always wear frocks at their Engagement Parties. They all do. But if you want to fuss and fret over it, fine. I’ll slip the pretty thing off. I’ll take off the pretty ballet slippers. Now stand against my lap. Yes, sir, you’re in for a good spanking.”

   Richard was so funny afterwards. Anxious as all get out for his frock. Spankings. They work miracles on sulky boys.

   I thought about that charming incident waiting for my flight to Camp Pendleton. The airport Departures waiting area was crowded with happy couples going somewhere together.

   Tall curvy girls and women in sexy dresses and heels. Leather loops of chain metal testicle leashes wrapped around their wrists and hands.

   Attached to delectable naked studmuffins at least 8 inches shorter. Erect pricks bobbing and spewing precum, spanked fannies juddering, eyes leering at other females, including me.

   I felt a pang of lust and loneliness. I longed for Richard’s delicious kisses. His prick in my mouth, my cunt. His tongue in my rectum. On my lap for endless kisses.

  Undercover Mission

   I reported to the Sergeant Major anxious for a dangerous mission. My body was already deflating, without the help of Combat Cocktail. I had to pee again. Vomit. Poop.

   Since time began, female breasts and buttocks have shrunk when necessary. For wars, natural disasters, punishing hard labor, and other threats and stresses. At the same time, female aggressiveness grows even stronger.

   In the old days, deflation took up to 3 days. Combat Cocktail pushes that down to 24 hours. It tastes terrible.

   My Top Kick glanced up from a clear Lucite desk. Her feet in dress uniform heels were sexy, judging by the secretary’s genitals. Male Marines are neatly exposed through their uniform tights in offices and appropriate places.

   She tickled the impressive hard cock. “General wants to see you. Now.”

   I walked in the spacious office. Light wood panels and ceiling. Red carpet. Big desk and conference table. Expansive area of circular leather couch around a coffee table. Captain’s chairs. Window panels were closed.

   A naked male secretary was pouring coffee at the refreshment table. His  luscious fat fanny was purple and swollen from a recent spanking.

   Ecole Superieure d’Preceptrice

   In the couch area, the General, a junior officer, a civilian. I snapped to attention. The General brushed it away and introduced me. “Sit on my right, and listen.”

   The civilian started talking. She looked young for the high position. Sexy cobalt business outfit, designer heel sandals.

   “We have reason to believe that one or more enemy agents have been accepted as students by the most prestigious Governess College in the world. Ecole Superieure d’Preceptrice. It’s in Nimes, France. Not too far from the Riviera.”

   “Graduates of that institution are vigorously sought. They work at the highest levels of power, wealth, and influence. Tycoons and prime ministers, artists and financiers, queens and oil magnates, musicians and actresses.”

   “Dominas worldwide want at least one ESP Governess in their homes. Homes isn’t the right word. State residences, mansions, palaces, and ranches. Even harems. Cost is immaterial.”

   “Not only for their men and slaves. More importantly, for their unmarried boys. Especially for the troubled ones. Brothers and cousins. Grandsons, great-grandsons, and so on. Nephews, other male relations, the same.”

   “They believe, and it’s difficult to argue against evidence, an ESP Governess can tame and abase virtually any young man. Mold a troubled or broken boy into a perfectly sweet submissive.”

  Lady Ca Ca

   “The rock star Lady Ca Ca. Stupid name. She got it after her first album, decided to run with it. Half the songs, and all the Top 10 hits, were about enemas, suppositories, wiping male bottoms, and rectal cleaning.”

   “A young girl caring for her twin brother and other boys. A universal story for youths of both genders. It touched a chord. It touched me. Every home bought the video album.”

   “It didn’t hurt that the songs were catchy, and she’s a big beautiful platinum blonde who wears sexy clothes and heels, and the naked boys in her videos were luscious studmuffins.”

    “Fabulously wealthy now, four years later, her CDs in every home with young people. Boys frigged on sisters’ laps look at her 3-D posters. Imagine the rivers of cum!”

   “We know about her concerts for Discipline-related charities, research institutions, and organizations. Her Girl Scout and Boy Beaver Foundations do a lot of good.”

  Girl Scouts & Boy Beavers

   “My younger brother is a Beaver. He’s so proud when we escort him to the Den in that cute uniform! Beaver paddle around his neck. The darling was frightened by Den Mothers and Sisters. Now, he clambers across every female lap like it’s me or Mother. With a proper erection!”

   She sighed, eyes misting a bit. I knew the feeling. There’s something wonderful about Den meetings. Trembling boys are exchanged for 2 or 3 hours. I love getting a new boy each time.

   But watching Sam get the Welcome Enemas is something else. Beginning and ending spankings too. In between, fun, practical lessons about how to be a boy.

   Washing panties. Cunnilingus and analingus. Rendering O. Dancing. The 4 ways of sitting on female laps. Applying toenail polish. Cooking and cleaning. Polite ways to beg sisters and Mothers for frigging, fondling, kisses. So much more. 

   Perched on a different lap, prick in another’s hand, a new Marching Finger up his rectum, other supervision from female strangers. Rendering O to them. Sam’s fat fanny upthrust, his huge prick hard and dripping as he sucks strange female toes. Instead of mine.

   A girl suddenly realizes how terribly much she loves her brother. One benefit out of many in Den meetings, perhaps unintended. Lady Ca Ca is a big supporter of Boy Beavers.

   “She has two unmarried brothers. One her twin, the other a year younger. She dotes on her dad. They each have an ESP Governess, which is very rare.”

   ESP – Traditions, Status, Graduates

   “ESP graduates swear to a 20 year commitment. Many work another 10 or 20, and then ease into until wealthy retirement. Many marry after they leave service.”

   “However, a Governess never marries into the family she cares for. It’s an ironclad rule. She usually marries into other rich and famous families she’s  met. Always young gentlemen.”

   “I’ve met several newly married Governesses. Ages 40 to 65. Oldest husband was 19. Lovely couples. The boys are sweet. Completely and helplessly in love. Absolutely terrified of their wives. Naturally, their pretty pricks are always erect with submissive lust.”  

   “The youngest ESP Governess often holds immense power in her household. Used benignly, it can do great good. Used maliciously, it could wreak immense harm. So far, 175 years on, that hasn’t happened. A few near misses, though.”

   “Our agents accepted by ESP normally go on to undercover work. In households of interest all over the world. Assignments last years. When complete, agents invariably choose to continue as Governesses. They let us know situations of interest they discover.”

   The French Mission

   “This is different. We don’t need you to actually work as a Governess. Just to attend the French school, and find the enemy agents. They work for international criminal organizations. Male kidnapping – extortion – theft – sale of state secrets – political sabotage – other heinous crimes.”

   “Try to imagine a criminal Governess for the men belonging to, and beloved by, an influential Domina. Leader of a country, CEO of a large corporation, media owner.”

   “We need a good agent for this. Badly. Sandra, you meet all the criteria. Tall, strong, lusty, profoundly feminine. Extremely stern face, attitude, and carriage which instinctively hardens pricks. That quality can’t be taught. Fluency in French.”

   “Identify the enemy agents with certainty. We’ll do the rest. Those girls are extremely dangerous. Big beauties like you. Pretty young faces look too young to give your daddy enemas, above mature voluptuous strong bodies. Trained to kill. Just like you.”

   “I see you’re an avid Lesbian. Perfect. Sandra, are you on board with this operation?”

   I was eager for it. Anything. To take my mind off lusting for Richard. “Yes.”

   “Sign these documents. Good. You now work for a US bureau that doesn’t officially exist. You were born, and live in, Quebec. Memorize your life story. Now, if you please, strip nude.”

   Another woman came in. Ordinary dress and heels. She inserted fingers in my dry cunt, moved them cunningly. Just like Mother does with me. Like every time we go out shopping.

   We’ll be all dressed up, standing at the door, sometimes with daddy and Richard. Mother’s hand goes under my dress. Me, a big matured girl!  I spread my legs and squat a bit, as she’s taught me. So embarrassing.

   My dry cunt hurts when her fingers enter me. Quickly, my clit embiggens, cunt moistens, knees wobble.

   “Motherrrrr! Please stop it! You’ll make me aaaah – oooh – isssshh – cuhh-huh-huh- hhmmm …” I cum several times. Arching on tiptoes, gasping, shrieking, farting. Mother is a genius with my cunt.

   She whispers, “You’re my daughter. I’ll diddle you whenever I want, as much as I like.” (She still does.) Mother’s fingers are dripping with my cuntal and cum juices when she removes them. She lets daddy lick them clean. I’m panting and snorting like a horse.

   The simple memory was arousing. I panted. Fluids flowed. I screamed with an orgasm. She took it out.

   “Splendid response. But you’re partially deflated. We can’t have that. Come with me to the hospital.”

   ESP – Nimes, France

   Two months later I was in the French countryside. At a vast, secluded country estate at least 10 miles from Nimes. After endless examinations, tests, interviews in several locations in France. Fingers in my cunt was just the start. But I was accepted by ESP. I was there.

   Standing with 4 other girls in an empty classroom. A tall severe-looking woman, hazel hair tight in a bun, pince nez around her neck. Skin a bluish white, like fine marble.

   She wore the most elegantly styled Governess uniform I ever saw. It outlined and veiled her lush body simultaneously, at once daring and demure. Of course, her deep décolletage needed no couturier. Bare ripe titties.

   Her black heel sandals were equally enticing. Red toenail polish, long thick toes, swooping feet. I had a feeling she liked having her toes sucked. No harm in that. Me too.

   “Ladies. I am Madame Juliet. You will call me Madame. Undress. Remove those disgusting excuses for feminine attire, but leave your low sandals on.”

   We scrambled to obey, titties juddering. I glanced around to check out the other girls. We all did. Every girl was a suitable lover. Heavens, I needed a hungry female tongue in my pussy. Madame diddled each of us in turn, just enough to make me scream in frustration.

   “Ladies, try to understand exactly where we are. Maybe you think so, but no. You cannot, certainment. You know nothing of this noble place.”

   “It was founded 175 years ago by a group of noble French Dominas. The word “Preceptrice” was not just a word to them. It was an Ideal! A philosophy. An ethos, a vocation, a screaming joy!”

   “Here, for centuries, thousands of girls such as you, simple and noble alike, have become Governesses. Men fainted at their feet trying to kneel there. Boys saw them from afar, and pissed in their pants and skirts. Every male worshipped them like goddesses.”

   “They still do today. Starting with your feet. You will now follow me to the Clinic Podiatrist. A Governess’ feet are kneeled at naked and with fervent devotion. They must always be beautiful. You will remain nude until the tailors deliver your uniforms. A few days at most.”

   “The bespoke Governess heel sandals must wait until our podiatrist is satisfied with your feet. Come now.”

   We hesitated. Outside under the shade of trees on the rolling sunlit greensward were dozens of stunning Governess students in uniforms and heel sandals. Each was accompanied by a fully dressed man or boy in male garb, frock, or pinafore.

   There were other men. Servants, maintenance crews, landscapers. Also fully dressed.

   I’d never been nude in a situation like that. All the men apparently had permission to leer at us as we walked. I’ve never been so self-conscious.