"So Frank, you want me to be your - uh - your dominatrix?" Rebecca inquired.
"I think that is what it will take," Frank told her.
"You realize I have zero experience in this?"
"I'm sure you can do it. The basic concept is simple to grasp."
"All right, then. I'll be right back."
Rebecca grabbed some of her men's clothes - dull and drab, khaki trousers and a shirt of similar color. She went behind one of the two flimsy screens that served as the dorm room's only safeguards for privacy while dressing. Then, gritting her teeth in sadness and anger, she tried to set her mind to the task at hand.
She bit her lip, in a failed attempt to keep from crying, as she pulled off her pretty top, dropped her pretty skirt to the floor, and yanked her hair severely back to form a ponytail. Keeping her bra and panties on, she covered them up with the men's clothes. She took a deep breath, and then another, trying to steel herself to become a dominatrix, ,and formulating some far-fetched thoughts about what a dominatrix would say and do to her submissive sissy. She couldn't think of anything to use to flog Frank into submission, except her belt, and she really didn't want to hit Frank with a belt. She would just have to spank him with her bare hand, she guessed.