"Yes, Miss," I replied. I went into the kitchen and began to pack thebasket as instructed. I always hated this chore. My governess knew howmuch bei...g in public made me uncomfortable, and she always ensured thatthere were little rituals around each of those public excursions whichseemed to have the only purpose of prolonging the agony. Preparing thepicnic basket was one of those rituals. It was a stereotypical picnicbasket, with a blue gingham liner and large bow on the handle. It. After a month or so we began kissing and cuddling and eventually itprogressed to cybersex, and I felt a little embarrassed, but I had toadmit to myself that as long as I thought of myself as a girl, it waspossible for him to turn me on. After three months I was allowed to givehim *my* phone number and tell him that he could only phone me atcertain times. The phone was given to me at such times and taken awayagain afterwards. By now the hormones that they made me take had givenme a girl's voice. More

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