Emmas Secret Domination (Nexus)

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It seemed strange dressing to look attractive to a woman. At last Ursula arrived, looking every inch the unconventional artist, dressing in well-cut trousers and jacket, her blonde hair brushed down over her ears like that of a boy poet. She embraced Emma warmly and seemed very pleased with the trouble she had taken over her appearance. I fancy a completely new style, something more simple and unsophisticated. Once again she ordered food only for herself, a little caviar on toast followed by peaches in Armagnac. I like a girl to be really slim.

Emma felt a little dismayed. She was a healthy girl with a good appetite. She eyed the caviar longingly whilst Ursula talked of the delights of life. Life without men, without having to pander to their brutal desires and without being financially dependent on them. She talked of her own successful career, of her life in Morocco, of Paris, Ireland and America. She talked of well-known society people. Emma was fascinated, but she was also delighted when Ursula finally held out a tiny piece of toast with a little caviar on it.

She longed for more, but Ursula was still talking and she did not like to interrupt. At last another little piece of toast and caviar was held out as if she were a pet dog being offered a choice morsel. She felt that her whole character was changing. Normally she was vivacious and never tongue-tied amongst her friends in the country. But here in London with this dominating woman, whether at the exclusive health club or this expensive restaurant, she became as shy as a schoolgirl amongst grown-ups. You should have no difficulty in dressing as a schoolgirl. Was this what Ursula had wanted to discuss?

She began to feel more and more excited. It is meant to! Life would be very dull if we just behaved as everyone expected! I shall pick you up at your cottage, properly dressed, which means as a schoolgirl, at three next Friday. Ursula laughed.


Clearly Emma still had not realised how little such small amounts of money meant to her. She must be very careful not to cross Ursula. Indeed, it was a very pretty schoolgirl who caught the train home that evening, a schoolgirl dressed in the traditional blue blazer and skirt, white blouse and short socks and sensible shoes, with her blonde hair in two little pigtails.

She carried a suitcase in which were packed the grown-up clothes in which she had travelled up to London that morning and the other schoolgirl clothes she would need for the weekend. This schoolgirl was seen off by a tall, elegant woman, her Aunt Ursula — it was a dress rehearsal to make sure Emma could act the part properly. Emma blushed. This was something very private, which no one had ever spoken to her about. Left as she was for much of the time by a weak husband, she often gave herself a little relief whilst thinking of her fantasies of strong dominant men.

Ursula was no fool and knew what tricks Emma was likely to get up to unless controlled, and, more to the point, that men played an important part in it all — a part which she would not permit. As the train gathered speed, Emma felt terribly sad at being parted from Ursula. She even felt near to tears — just like a real schoolgirl. Nobody would be likely to connect the normally vivacious happy-go-lucky young married woman they knew as Emma with this quiet shy young teenager.

Minutes later Ursula called Emma in to check that she was really looking like a schoolgirl and then led the way downstairs to join her friends. There were three other women waiting to greet her, all in their forties or fifties, beautifully dressed and exquisitely groomed. Two were very slim, with boyish figures like Ursula, but one was hugely fat. As she stared at them in disbelief, she saw that the other girls were showing no surprise at the situation.

As each girl was introduced to Ursula they gave a little curtsey — just, Emma thought, like schoolgirls in France. Emma awkwardly copied what she had seen the other girls do. The women looked at her critically and then, ignoring her, turned to Ursula. Emma was alarmed by the cruel smile.

The fat woman laughed. Run along now. Two of them were easy but she put off the fat woman to last and shuddered as she went to her. That kiss was horrid, specially when the woman enveloped her in a long stifling hug, but at last she escaped. It seemed quite natural to do this for Ursula. Not too hot and not too cold. And hurry, I want you to undress me. She looked at it in amazement. It was about three feet long with a curved handle. What was Ursula doing with a cane?

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She held it up. Soon Ursula stood naked. She had a figure rather like a boy, with very small breasts and straight hips. There was not an ounce of unwanted fat anywhere. You can go to your room and get ready for dinner. Put on your new party dress and brush your hair straight down over your shoulders. Oh, and you can wear these.

She went to one of the drawers and pulled out a satin slip and a pair of lace panties. Emma thought they were beautiful. The idea of wearing something that belonged to Ursula somehow seemed very exciting. I shall ring when I want you to help me dress. Make sure you are ready, and bring all your own underclothes with you.

They are to be thrown away. In her own room Emma threw herself on the bed, her thoughts in a turmoil. What on earth was she doing, she a respectably married woman, dressed up as a schoolgirl? It was all too silly. She would leave and go back home. But how could she?

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It was already getting dark, the rain was beating against the window. What was she to do? She began to sob. Emma felt herself flush with the unjustified praise. She heard the click as Ursula put down the phone. Frantically she unpacked, and ran her bath. A few minutes later she was putting on the new underclothes. She could ring up one of her girl friends, Jane perhaps, and ask to be picked up. They could meet secretly in the grounds. She hesitated, her hand on the phone. Did she really want to run away from Ursula? Well, there was no harm in chatting to Jane.

She picked up the phone. She tried it — no outside line.

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She dialled again, again nothing happened. Angrily she got through to reception. I have her card in front of me. But it was too late — the telephone had gone dead. For a moment Emma just sat there bemused. Had Ursula deliberately taken steps to prevent her from contacting the outside world or was it just a normal precaution against a huge bill being run up? But there was no time to waste. It was flared and flouncy and very short — unmistakably the sort of dress that a young teenager or even a much younger girl would wear.

With it went white socks, flat party shoes and blue ribbon in her long hair, which she brushed straight down her back. Emma looked in the mirror. A very pretty young girl looked back at her. The pigtails and make-up were perfect. She tied the sash bow and slid it round her waist to her back. She checked her nails for any sign of nail varnish. She was ready.

It reminded her of her school days, of being sent for by the headmistress. An angry voice told her to enter. She strode up to Emma and suddenly slapped her hard across the face. Well, you can go to hell. You can get out now.

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Leave all your new clothes behind and get out! Were you going to ask her to come and collect you? I had thought of that. She kissed her wet eyes. Now you can help me get dressed. We shall make a striking pair, the elegant famous artist and her pretty little niece. They did indeed make a striking pair as they entered the dining room, with its small dance floor.

A pianist, a young woman, was playing in the corner. There were several groups of women, wearing evening dresses, seated at a dozen tables. At the other end of the table were the three young girls she had seen earlier. Amazed, she saw that they were again all wearing blue party dresses exactly like hers and had the same ribbon tied in the same place on top of their heads and their hair straight down their backs.

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