The Art of Petticoat Punishment by Carole Jean
Part 20 - Chris of England
Basil Chris Pizzinga was born into a US Air Force family in the mid 60's in Sicily. His family moved to England in 1970 where he has lived ever since.
He began drawing and selling naughty pictures to his school friends when he was eleven years old. He was encouraged in his work and attended art college.
He became a freelance cartoonist and soon men's magazines were buying his work. Bondage, S&M and Fetish were his priority. Here you will see some of his Petticoat Punishment fetish work. You will no doubt observe that Chris has a fascination for legs and heels that applies to his crossdressed males just as it does to his females.
I saw some of his drawings and contacted him. I had him illustrate two short stories for me, 'Petticoats and Panties for John', which I modified from an Amber E. story and 'A Catholic Boyhood' an unpublished short story. He did about 14 illustrations for each.
Petticoats and Panties for John
"Well, since the girls will be back any minute, let's get you in your last dress. I've saved the best for last," she said with a broad grin. She turned back to the pile of clothes on the bench and turned back around holding a frothy pink garment. "First, dear, your petticoat," she said and held the frilly thing in front of John.
"I'm not putting that thing on," John yelled. "This has gone far enough." He tried to bolt out of the dressing room but Mrs. Hart grabbed him before he took two steps. With amazing speed she pulled him over to the bench where she sat down and quickly flipped him across her lap, his pink pantied bottom pointed upward.
"If I have to, Joanie, I'll give you a spanking you won't soon forget."' John looked in the mirror and saw her hand poised just above his bottom. Her hand did not move, but the nature of his predicament became clear to him. The tension left his body as he again became resigned to his fate. Mrs. Hart sensed her victory and released her steely grip on the boy. She helped him off her lap and stood him again in the middle of the dressing room. "Don't get upset, dear, I think you'll learn to love your pretty petticoats in no time. Now be a good girl and let me finish dressing you."
Soon Darlene stopped cutting. She took one more walk around the chair to view her handiwork. Satisfied with the job, she told John not to squirm while she put his hair in curlers. John's eyes opened wide in shock. "Hey, you don't have to do that, do you?" he pleaded with Darlene. "I already look like a girl. You don't have to go any further," he said hopefully.
"Oh, no, darling, all pretty little girls have curls in their hair. And while you do look like a pretty little girl, I'm going to make you ever prettier," she said confidently. She polled tray over next to his chair, the top of the tray covered with pink plastic rollers of varying sizes. Darlene put a glob of setting lotion into her palm and massaged it into Johns locks. One at a time the pink rollers were put into his hair and rolled tightly against his scalp. John grimaced from time to time, the pressure on his head a most unusual feeling.
In a few minutes his head was full of pink curlers. He looked into the mirror, and felt thoroughly ashamed at the sight of his appearance.
A Catholic Boyhood
"OUCH! YEE-OOW!" I yelled. The additional smacks on my still naked bottom quieted me down again.
The panties were just terrible. They had lace around the elastic legs and rows of lace in the front and rear. Mother had me step into them and pulled them up. Sister commented, “Aren't the little ruffles sweet, Mother."
I was paralyzed with fear. The idea of my classmates seeing me in these panties horrified me. "Oh, Mother! Please, please don't make me wear these. Everyone will tease me and make fun of me. Please don't make me wear Janet’s sissy panties. PLEEEASE!"
"Hush! Really you are making such a fuss! It will be good for you to spend the day with the girls. It may teach you some manners."
I was still sniffling. They felt so funny, not like boy's underpants at all.
"Sister, please!" I pleaded. "Please don't make me wear these."
It was hopeless. They just ignored me.
The next item was the bra. Its small cups were covered with lace and the lace continued around the back. They put it on me and adjusted the straps so that the cups of the bra were right over my nipples. I wondered what girl had brought it. I sure hoped whoever it was didn’t find out I had it on.
"Sister, I don't need a bra," I protested.
"Many girls your age don't need a bra," she said, "However, you shall wear one."
Both of these stories with many more drawings are now available to order here as item #12.
I then asked Chris to do color drawings to accompany my story, 'Bill's Humiliations'. I hired him to draw 120 illustrations for me. Unfortunately I could not publish them at the time due to the high cost of color reproduction.
“When you were sentenced you said that you could do three months standing on your head. How do you feel about that now?”
“It would’ve been fine if you hadn’t interfered.”
“My,” Norma said. “After all I did to protect you, you should be more grateful. Since you thought you could do the time standing on your head, I’d like to see you do just that. Stand on your head.”
“All right, tomorrow the guard will collect my dress and you can spend the next three days in my bra, slip and panties. I’m sure the boys will enjoy seeing you prancing around in that cute lingerie of mine.”
“If you want a dress, stand on your head on this table,” she said.
I climbed on the table, put my head down and lifted my legs. The dress and slip fell down around me. I couldn’t see through them, but I sure could hear the laughter.
“Jeff,” Betty said, “I’m personally going to punish you. You held a knife at my throat and tried to rape me. You’ve been a bully and you’ve intimidated people based on your reputation as a motorcycle gang member. I’m going to change that reputation. You’ll wear your maids’ uniform everywhere you go. You’ll also have short hair and no breasts. Your new reputation will be that of a pantywaist sissy maid.”
“You’ll no longer ride your motorcycle. I have the most feminine little pink motor scooter for you. When you ride it, you’ll wear your motorcycle jacket over your maids’ uniform. You’ll be quite the example of a rough and tough ‘Road Devil’ with your dress and petticoats blowing in the wind. Your gang will probably be quite upset about your defiling their name. Other gangs will probably start calling them the Road Maids or the Sissy Devils.”
“You bitch!” Jeff snarled. “If you think I’ll ever leave this house dressed like this, you’re crazy. You can’t make me do it. I’m a free man!”
“Yes, Jeff,” Betty said, “you should still be in jail for what you did to me, but you’re a free man. You’re free to do exactly what I tell you to do no matter how much you hate it, or you’re free to work for your pimp walking the streets in your French maid’s outfit. That is, you’re free to walk the streets, until some kinky client murders you or you catch a disease and die.”
After playing, I went back to the locker room to change. I was soon in my bra and panties just like the girls.
I reached for my blouse and June asked, “Aren’t you going to shower?”
“I can’t shower here. I’m a guy.”
“You better, because you sure can’t shower with the boys, and you sure can’t put your blouse on over all that sweat,” she said.
“I’ll wait until I get home.”
“No you won’t,” she said. “Girls, let’s give Bill a shower.”
The giggling girls dragged me into the showers and held me under the water until all of us were soaked, our underwear nearly transparent.
I was starting to enjoy this. These young women were very attractive and nearly naked. Only my tight gaff kept them from seeing my arousal.
They soaped me all over, touching me everywhere, rinsed me off and chased me out of the shower with wet towels.
Finally the time came that Jeff sent me to the store I considered running again. My chances didn’t appear to be good. Even if I could convince the police that an ex-con in a maid’s uniform deserved protection, they couldn’t provide it twenty-four hours a day. Certainly Betty’s punishment would be swift and massive, and I’d lose all hope of becoming a man.
Reluctantly I concluded that there was still nothing I could do but wait to be released from this agony. As I started for the door, Jeff stopped me and said, “Let me freshen your lipstick, Fifi.” I glowered at him hatefully, but stood still as he repainted my lips.
“Much better,” Jeff said.
I was keenly aware of the stares, smiles and whispers I generated. At the store I heard a little boy say, “Look Mom, that lady’s undies are showing.”
“Hush, dear,” she said. “You must never mention such things. Besides, that’s no lady.”
This stories with many more drawings is now available to order as items #13 thru 16.
During the years It took Chris to complete the drawings for 'Bill's', he put me in contact with Madona. She was kind enough to lend me her own unpublished Chris story, 'Return to Childhood'.
Return to Childhood
Naughty master John ogles Patty, Margo's 16-year-old sister during an argument now he's in for it!!!
Well I think a female governor in excellent choice. John . . . John . . . John . . . Mother!!
Well I don't, huh? . . . . . WOW!!!
Shortly later . . . John is acting put out as he sits improperly with pretty dress all disarray and his pretties exposed. Margo and Patty enjoy chiding him for such unladylike conduct . . . As Mum steps in!
How dare you!! Since you cannot behave like a young lady, your impertinence leads me to believe that you are crabby . . . so . . . It's UP TO BED and for being so fidgety, an enema would be appropriate. Ladies would you watch!
Oh yes please, he's such a sissy!!!
What a naughty little boy, please wash his mouth out as well!
I hate being a girl dammit . . . !!##@@
John is punished by Nadine in the nursery! . . . In the nursery, Nadine administers a dose of medicine for crabby little girls. John is across her lap with one hand extended behind his back to render him helpless and secure for the punishment. She is applying a hairbrush across his bottom whilst he receives an enema. The 2 quart bag hangs from a portable stand, the slender white tubing disappears into his backside. The snap valve is fully open and, to prevent an accident, Nadine utilizes the catheter. Nadine sits on the chair in front of the crib, with John lying over her pretty legs. Joan is crying large tears of over exaggerated proportion onto the rug! The sun rays enter the room as the curtains are fully open. Nadine appears amused that she has such control over this 20-year-old petticoated young man!!!
Now young man!!!! You are getting what you deserve! You'll be so sorry for being a crabby little girl! JUST WAIT TILL TOMORROW, HAW, HAW, AND HAW!!!
This stories with many more drawings is now available to order as item #18.
Here are a couple more drawings I bought from Chris that are not as yet included in any story.