480 Cissy Pansy 19.02.2005
Dear Madam Rebecca, Mistresses and sissies,
I've had a wonderful time!
We arose early as I had an appointment with the optician. I dressed in my silk lingerie, panty girdle, opaque black hold-up stockings, navy slacks and navy low heels. I didn't have a blouse in which I could pass, so Mistress lent me one of Hers. It had even blue and white stripes with a plain white collar and white cuffs. The sleeves were a little short (they're short on Mistress, too), so She showed me how to wear them unfastened and turned back.
After the eye test (better than 20:20 vision, much to Mistress's annoyance), we went to a dance wear shop and bought more material for leotards. I chose navy blue lycra and purple stretch velvet. The Shopkeeper said, "Is it for You?" addressing my Wife. The best I felt able to say was, "Yes, it is." Strictly, She'd left the question's subject open and I answered truthfully. Perhaps I'll be able to be more forthcoming next time.
We returned home and cooked breakfast. I changed my low heels for my flats and Mistress said I could wear them in Winter as shoes, too (as opposed to sandals in Summer) if I wore opaque stockings.
I went to Madam's to collect Her after work and bring Her to ours for a tea party. While I was waiting, I washed and dried Her dishes and tried to give things a quick wipe over. To my horror, I found that whereas our house is basically clean but often untidy, Madam's is tidy but not clean. Her kitchen was thick with grease!
Seconds later I received a phone call from Mistress. Madam had driven straight to ours from work so She could have Her car as an escape route if She wanted one. I had an idea. Madam has every other weekend off and I suggested to Mistress that They both go to see Their Mother, Who lives nearly 200 miles away, in a fortnight's time, leaving me behind to do housework. This means I'll be able to start early (Mistress is a late riser) and work longer as I won't be worried about Madam coming back and trying to help. I'll also be able to do some of the longer jobs I want to do at home, too.
I returned home and put on my yellow party dress. I took off my panty girdle and replaced it with the lace-ruffled panties which matched the dress. Madam commented that it fitted me much better than my Maid's dress.
For just the second time, I was allowed to wear make-up. Mistress made up my face, though I made a hash of the eyeliner, though I did better with the lip liner and mascara. Mistress also sorted out my wig then painted my fingernails bright red. Madam was amazed at my transformation. She said from a few feet my face was completely Feminine and She'd never know from my face that I was a male, although I lacked a Feminine figure. I felt wonderful. I've added some more photographs to my album in ThHW4. Mistress and I think I'm unrecognisable.
Madam looked great, too. She's lost a lot of weight and was using the meal as an excuse to try a new little black dress in a safe environment. Unfortunately, Her hair is grey and won't take colour or She'd lose at least ten years (She's 53).
Mistress and Madam cooked the meal. As I was wearing my party dress, my only duty was to set the table (but I made up for this by preparing an equally nice meal on my own the next night). Mistress wanted to try moussaka and it took ages to make (about two hours of preparation, never mind cooking), but it was delicious. I got away with only three disasters: concealer and foundation on the frill at my neck; lily pollen from Mistress's St Valentine's Day bouquet (be warned, sissies, that stuff can stain so easily) which I was able to brush out straight away; and, at the end of the evening when Mistress untied my sash and unzipped my dress so I could undress myself, I stood on the ribbon when climbing the stairs and tore a hole in my dress, but Madam says it will be easy to repair.
During the meal, I set Madam's place at the head of the table. She said, "Surely you should be sat at the head of the table?" but then corrected Herself, "But then again, you're no longer the man of the house, are you?" She wanted to know why I called my Wife Mistress, but She only got Madam. "I hope you don't think I'm a 'madam'!" I explained it was meant with the greatest respect and as a means of differentiating Her from Mistress then Mistress and I said together, "Besides, You're not his/my Mistress: I/She am/is!"
I knelt in front of Them and thanked Them for the meal, Their tolerance and Their understanding. Madam said it was all quite normal until I drew attention to the fact that I wasn't really a Girl and Mistress agreed.
Mistress mentioned that I do a lot of cooking, though it's often a team effort, but I don't make a big song and dance about it. Madam said many males cook, but then expect it to be the main topic of conversation for days. I said I found that very strange. I find a simple thank you to be more than sufficient.
It was a good evening. Mistress and I slept on a sofa-bed in the spare bedroom and we fulfilled one of Madam's fantasies: to sleep in a four-poster bed. If I'd known, She could have done that years ago!
Thanks for your journals. I always look forward to them!
--an inferior male