Originally written for @HenryHiggins
Content warnings for this story (click here for guide):
“Oh yes,” said the man on the desk, smiling past the armed officer at the figure in the doorway. “Splendid. This will be a delight.” He went to a cupboard and pulled out a large registration book.
Elise scowled at him. Like the rest of the Party toads, he was expensively dressed and unbearably smug. She slammed her steel cuffs against the doorframe, hoping to make him spill his drink.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said the registrar. “You’re already in for a very interesting time. You really don’t want to add any years to your sentence.”
Elise had been charged with organising seditious gatherings. She was notorious for disrupting Party meetings, intercepting prison vans and spreading dissent among schoolchildren. She was proud of her work, but acutely aware of the dangers involved. Until now, she’d managed to evade capture by the State through various disguises, safe-houses, underground hideouts etc. Unfortunately the bounty on her had been too tempting for one lieutenant, and Elise was set up, sent to barnstorm at a meeting riddled with State police.
“What are you going to do with me?” she asked, trying to stop her voice quavering. “Prison camp? Exile? Execution? You’d better get on with it.”
The registrar nodded at the officer, who grabbed her cuffed wrists and hoisted them above his head, until she was stretched up on full tiptoes.
“Very pretty,” said the registrar. “No, Miss Black. You have enough sympathisers in prison that you’d be out in a moment. Exile would only take your message to the wider world. And executing you would only make you a martyr, causing tens of Elise Blacks to spring up in your place. I’m afraid what we need to do is not to disappear you but to discredit you.”
Elise was puzzled, and winced at the strain on her arms.
The registrar cupped her chin with a predatory air, then ran his hand down to cup and squeeze her breasts. Elise spat at him. The registrar paused for a moment, wiped his face, then pinched her nipple so she yelped.
“Fuck you,” she hissed.
He gestured at the officer to let her down and she flipped her middle finger up at him.
“You see the problem, Constable. This girl is defiant, aggressive and unafraid of many things. Violence, imprisonment, banishment…she’s a charismatic little rabble-rouser. But we have ways of breaking even these hard cases. Bring her through.”
Elise was led through by the handcuffs, hating them both.
The room was much paler and lighter than the others she’d seen at the Ministry. It looked like a photographer’s studio. A table like a therapist’s couch was set up at one end, and various racks on castors stood around, covered with drapes.
“Go ahead and torture me,” she narrowed her eyes. “You won’t stop our movement. You won’t even wring an apology out of me.”
“Such a dark imagination for a bright young lady,” said the registrar. “Albeit a scruffy one.”
Elise had not washed for many days. It hadn’t been safe to find a shower or tap. She wore an oversized workshirt with rolled-up sleeves, a knotted bandanna and loose, torn work trousers. Her short hair was filthy and smudges of grease from maintenance tasks smeared her cheeks.
“Never mind,” said the registrar. “We’re going to fix that. We’re going to fix rather a lot about Miss Elise Black.”
He waved a hand and the constable went away to fetch something.
“My name is Carnegie,” said the man. “And I specialise in two things: behavioural correction and public perception. You’re a special girl, Elise – we wouldn’t want to destroy you. No, I have some very particular methods in mind for your rehabilitation. You’re going to be very different by the end of this.”
The constable returned with a large, light blue shoulder bag, placing it on the shelf beneath the couch.
“After all,” said Carnegie. “We aren’t going to kill you – just the idea of you.”
“What do you mean?” said Elise, tilting her head like an impatient customer.
“Your followers see you as strong, capable, in control. You go to great lengths to present yourself as masculine, powerful, wise beyond your 20 years. So we’re going to change that. By the time we’ve finished with you, Elise, you won’t even be in control of yourself. But you will be ever such a good girl.”
“Strip her,” he commanded the officer.
The fuckers. Elise thrashed and kicked as the burly man tried to take off her clothes, and got him good with a kick in the chest. The officer stumbled backwards, winded, and Elise, rumpled but very much clothed, turned back to Carnegie in triumph.
“Constable, get up. Come on, man – you’ve been hit harder than that before. Hold her still for me.”
The officer nodded and grabbed Elise firmly from behind, pinning her upper arms to her side as she swore at him. Carnegie produced a pair of scissors and approached her. Elise’s foot flew up to meet his face, and he caught it calmly, bringing it back down to meet the other, at which point he simply tied her shoelaces together. The officer leant her forward to pin the feet in place, as Carnegie snipped and whisked away her clothing as though it were cobwebs.
“Lovely little tits, don’t you think?” said Carnegie, smiling, as Elise’s top fell away. He looked her in the eye as he played with them and once again pinched and rolled her nipples.
Elise was furious at the invasion, but knew she could take whatever attacks on her body they could administer. As the registrar removed the last scraps of fabric, he had the constable puppet her into comical poses to display her. Elise bellowed and twisted, trying to free herself from the strong grip.
“Enough fun. Watch her fists, Constable. I’m uncuffing her briefly.” Carnegie twisted a small brass key in the lock and deftly moved her hands behind her back before refastening them. “And we all know about Miss Black’s penchant for fisticuffs, don’t we? I think it was just two months ago that she punched a Sergeant until he lost consciousness in order to free her subordinate from custody. The same subordinate, coincidentally, who told us where to find you.”
Once Elise was presented, hands behind her back like a choirgirl, Carnegie observed her.
“Yes, very nice. Very sweet. I think we can do a lot with Miss Black.”
He peeled the cover off the nearest rack.
To Elise’s surprise, the rail was full of school uniforms. There were various iterations of short pleated skirts, puff-sleeved blouses, tartan hair-bows and knee socks, as well as a platform full of round-toed mary-janes, much like an 11-year-old might wear.
Elise was confused and nervous.
“What is this?” said Elise. “You going to tell me some lies about the dead children who used to own these?”
“There’s that sinister mind at work again,” smiled Carnegie. “Never mind. We’ll work on that. Take another look.”
Elise shook her head.
“This lovely little array of uniforms is too big for most children, don’t you think, Elise? In fact…”
He produced a tape measure and measured the chest of the nearest blouse, then returned to his captive and measured her in the same spot.
“…a perfect match!” He clapped his hands in delight.
We see a great deal of potential in young Elise. With a fresh start and some very close supervision, once she’s been re-educated she could be a delightful little mascot for the Party. Constable, let’s see how she looks in one.”
“Fuck you.” Elise struggled to get free of the officer’s iron grip. Carnegie picked up a pair of crisp white knickers and carefully undid her shoelaces and slipped off her filthy shoes. As Elise kicked up at him, he caught her foot and slipped it into one half of the knickers, then scooped up the other, pulling them smartly up. Naked apart from the bright white panties, Elise suddenly felt embarrassed, like a little girl being handled by a parent. She kicked again but Carnegie was out of range.
“Not a good start, Elise. No tantrums while we’re getting you dressed, please.”
He had the officer lift her up, wriggling and thrashing, and managed to get her into a short pleated tartan skirt with a built-in petticoat.
“Very cute indeed,” he commented. “You’re going to be a model pupil at the Party’s special school for big girls.”
He had the officer bend her over forwards, so the short skirt revealed her panties, then gave her three or four smacks with his hand. Elise was enraged.
“FUCK YOU!” she roared.
White knee socks followed, then shiny shoes were buckled onto her feet, and lastly they attempted to put her in a Peter-Pan-collar white blouse with a tartan bow at the throat. As the officer tried to force her arm into the sleeve, though, Elise caught the seam and bucked, tearing the blouse badly. In the confusion, she managed to bloody the constable’s nose and scuttled to the corner of the room, ripping off the clothes she’d been dressed in.
“Oh dear. I thought we might only need to go back to school level. Obviously we’re not quite ready for these.“
He wheeled the rail of tartan skirts and prim white blouses to one side.
Elise stared warily as he brought across a second rack.
“I think we made a mistake taking little Elise to school before she was ready,” said Carnegie. “I think these clothes will suit her much better.”
He removed the cover to reveal a cloud of pastel-pink princess dresses with short, stiff skirts, puff-sleeved frocks with ruffles and lace trim, layers upon layers of petticoats, gathered lavender skirts, embroidered bunnies, bonnets – it was overwhelmingly sickly. No girl would be caught dead in such fussy, prissy garb.
Carnegie plucked a dress at random and fluffed up the skirts.
“This is your reward for your hard work, Elise. A beautiful new wardrobe of pretty clothes!”
From her corner, Elise shook her head in horror.
“Quite right,” said the registrar. “You need a wash first.”
The constable lunged at Elise, catching her by the wrist. He pushed her out into the yard and shoved her naked body against a high surrounding wall. Before she could catch her breath, he had grabbed a hose and turned it on her. Elise spluttered and shrieked as the cold water soaked her. She skidded onto the floor and the torrent surged over her head.
After about a minute, the tap was turned off. Shivering and dripping, Elise was led back inside.
She was not offered a towel. Instead she was made to stand in a corner, facing the wall.
“Much better,” she heard Carnegie say. “Can’t be getting dust and grime all over those pretty dresses, can we? Not very ladylike. I must say, I do like the rosy cheeks you’ve given our girl, Constable.”
He appeared beside her. “It’s a shame to cover your little bottom, Elise, but it’s time we got you dressed. Put these on, please.”
He held out a pair of lacy white pumpkin panties – short bubble bloomers that looked like something a 4-year-old might wear.
“F-fuck you,” she shivered, and batted them onto the floor.
“There’s that language again,” tutted Carnegie. “Further evidence of your need for re-education. I’m afraid it won’t do.”
Before she could react, he had stuffed an oversized pink dummy in her mouth. Horrified, she spat it out and kicked it away. The constable pulled her hair roughly from behind, allowing Carnegie to slip it into her gasping mouth, then secure it behind her head with a satin ribbon.
“Mmph!” Elise was mortified at the intrusion. Her hands flew up to undo the babyish gag but the constable was too quick, and pinned them to her sides.
“Much better,” said Carnegie. “I think our little charge is too little to get dressed by herself, so we’re going to have to do it. Lift her feet please.”
Elise was hoisted off the ground, her fury muffled by the dummy, and the elasticated cuffs of the bubble panties slipped over her feet. They were pulled up and puffed out to Carnegie’s satisfaction, and Elise was held in place as he admired his work.
“Lovely. Very sweet indeed. Now let’s choose you a dress.”
He returned with a satin baby-blue party frock, fluffed by a stiff white petticoat. It had frilled cap sleeves, ribbon details, and looked like a toddler’s birthday dress.
“Are you going to be good for us, Elise, or do I need to smack your bottom?”
Elise grunted in fury, and Carnegie pulled up a chair, slipped a steel walkalong over her skinny wrist and sat down, pulling her, yelping, over his lap. He rolled up his sleeves, took down her panties and began to spank her soundly. From behind her dummy, Elise grunted in pain, surprised at how much it hurt. She blushed in anger as her tormentor taunted her.
“What a naughty little girl.”
“If only your followers could see you now – whimpering over my knee with your dummy in your mouth.”
“I must say, I had high hopes that you might scrub up well into a sweet little poster girl for the Party. But right now I’m not convinced you’re even that far advanced.”
Eventually she was allowed up, dizzy from her ordeal.
“Oh – one second.” Carnegie said. “Someone’s dribbled all down her chin.”
Elise blushed even redder and tried to slap away his handkerchief, but found her hand caught in mid-air.
“Pull up your bloomers, little Elise,” said Carnegie. “Unless you need me to do it for you.”
She yanked down the puffy panties and threw them aside, humiliated.
Carnegie and the officer conferred briefly.
“I agree,” said Carnegie, and turned to his captive once more.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get you all dolled up soon enough. But I think we agree that you’ve been such a baby about this whole affair that you might benefit from one final addition.”
He went to a cupboard in the corner and retrieved a pink package. He pulled out a padded, folded object covered in bunnies and teddies.
“Up onto the couch, if you don’t mind, Constable.”
Elise grunted and howled as she was carried across to the corner couch, where her wrists and ankles were cuffed in place. She raged and tugged at her bonds.
“Don’t worry, little Elise. The constable here has raised three daughters. I think he knows how to change a stubborn little girl. And this way we won’t have to worry about finding you a cell with a toilet.”
Elise’s eyes widened. No. NO. This couldn’t be happening. The thick nappy was slid under her bottom, crinkling loudly. The constable grinned and scooped a dollop of coconut oil from a pot, smearing the cool grease onto her clitoris. She bit down on her dummy as a jolt of sensation ran through her. Then the front was pulled up between her legs and taped snugly closed.
“Oh yes, that’s much better,” said Carnegie. “No little accidents if we have another temper tantrum.”
He smiled to himself, stroking his chin.
“You know, I could see our little princess being very popular with Colonel Tremaine. He likes his girls to dress a certain way to please him. And if I’m not mistaken, Miss Black managed to sabotage his rally a few months ago. It would be a nice gesture to wrap her up like a little present for him, wouldn’t it?”
Elise protested in fury, helplessly jingling the cuffs. Carnegie turned to his associate.
“Make sure she finishes a full bottle tonight, constable, and get some pictures. That’s right, Elise, we’re going to be taking lots of pictures of you. Curtseying sweetly, lifting up your party dress to show what’s underneath. We thought we might go out tomorrow and spread a few thousand leaflets about town. Perhaps we might press a wand against little Elise’s padding and make a video of her enjoying herself And of course, when that full bottle works its way through, there will be even more things to record. So many possibilities.”
He summoned the officer and the two of them headed for the door, leaving the half-naked, gagged girl cuffed to the couch, shaking in shame.
“Oh yes,” mused Carnegie, as he clicked the door shut. “I think Elise Black’s acolytes will be intrigued to see what’s become of their fearless leader.”
2 thoughts on “The Idea of Elise”
Please take this story deeper in progression to a complete Baby Elise.
Thank you so much for the enthusiasm for Elise’s plight! It’s very tempting. Quite tricky to keep that conscious embarrassed rebel present but take her quite far into babyhood…