Friday, February 17, 2017
Chapter 34: A change of past. Cheryl discovers no corset is as constricting as a few simple forms.
Mistress and her daughters left late afternoon, leaving only Madame Directrice and me at the mansion, and she didn't even leave her office at dinner time. My chores were done, so I had the evening off. I didn't bother slipping into my evening wear, so I remained in my maids outfit. I had thought about taking my heels off, but decided against it. About the only times I wasn't obliged to wear heels was under the shower or in bed. Getting caught without them was a big infraction and Madam Directrice was still here somewhere. I did relax the corset a bit further, however.
After I heated myself a light dinner, I wandered over to one of the sitting rooms, the one with the huge TV. I fidgeted a bit with the remote (darn nails!) when I turned on the screen. I zapped past the different stations. These were in German, French or some other language I couldn't understand. Those stations that did speak English were all about fashion, glamour and gossip. English speaking news networks and the like were all blocked. Mistress was very thorough in isolating me from the rest of the world.
I came past a Swiss news channel. I couldn't understand a single word of that weird language they apparently spoke in the south-east of the country, but I was captivated by the images. I was seeing footage of my home town.
I sighed. They only showed the city centre, and I lived on the other side of the river, but I felt I could almost see my old apartment. I felt a sharp sting of homesickness.
Oh, how I hated it at the time. It was draughty and the roof became moist when it rained. I wondered what had happened to it. I had paid my landlord in advance, enough to cover the time I planned to spend in Europe. That amount must have been spent by now. Was he still waiting for me to return, or had my stuff already been thrown in a dumpster and my room rented to someone else? Could I even afford it now? I knew that I received some wages for my work here, but had no idea how much. Heck, I hadn't actually seen a single dime.
Not that my old job was that great, though. Low wages, tiresome labour, jerk of a boss... Oh, I felt so alive when I told him where he could stuff his job. That same day I gathered every penny I had and started planning for a long trip. If I had stayed, I would have wasted away slaving in that bleak city. I wanted to see new things, meet new people, experience new things, turn my life around...
I looked down at my satin maid's outfit. Well, I got exactly that, didn't I?
I went to bed early. Undoubtedly, I would be expected I start my shift at seven in the morning, as usual. A lot of things had changed, but a maid's duties never would.
And I was right. The next morning everything was like it used to be. After washing myself and putting on fresh undies, Brigitt walked into my room. She was holding a corset, merrily informing me that it was time for my training. I don't know when Mistress and the others came home last night, but I could see she hadn't had much sleep, and probably a couple of drinks too many as well.
But she obviously couldn't forgo the pleasure of tying me into one of her corsets. Which she did with relish, pulling hard on the lacing. I gasped as the corset tightened around me.
“Huh, I'm away for a few days and immediately you get lax. I'm going to have a word with Martina and Ingrid about this. They spoiled you.” She said with a stern voice.
She approached me from behind, put her chin upon my shoulder. “And we would not want a fresh little sissy like you to spoil, now would we?” she whispered seductively into my ear.
My heart must have skipped a beat. She had a predatory glint in her eyes, like she was ready to strike. I feared she might force myself upon me then and there.
But she just smiled and backed away. “Well, don't just stand there, sissy! Get your uniform on. No, not that one. The baby blue one. Yes, with white stockings. Put on those white ankle boots, with the platform soles. No buts, girl. It's about time you learned to walk in platforms. Good. You can take it from here, but come see me when you are dressed. I'm going to put two locks on your boots. Why? So you will not be tempted to take them off, you stupid sissy!”
She left while I gathered the various pieces of today's uniform. My collection of clothes has increased significantly since I arrived here. My closet was stuffed with items, and Mistress had appointed an unused guest room to serve as a temporary walk-in closet for the rest, at least until a more a permanent solution would be found.
It was ridiculous, really. Even when I changed outfits three times a day, it would take weeks for me to actually wear them all. And then I didn't even include all the accessories. But Mistress and her daughters just kept adding items. Some of those were thinly concealed threats. 'Behave, of I'll put you in this'. Mostly though it was to make sure I would have the perfect outfit for the perfect occasion. The perfect humiliation, more likely.
And the outfits themselves had changed too. When I had just started here, my morning uniforms were at least somewhat practical. Sure, the dresses would barely cover my panties, but the frills were kept to a minimum, and the apron actually managed to prevent stains on my dress. Moreover, they were durable, so I didn't have to worry about seams coming undone or lace ripping.
The maid uniforms I wore these days were made for one thing, and it wasn't maid's work. They looked excessively feminine, with frills everywhere. The apron was little more than an accessory, a patch of white to contrast with the colour of the rest of the uniform. It always had to be tied at the back with a very elaborate bow, and if I was particular unlucky, it had words printed on it, like 'Sissy Servant Cheryl' or the hilarious 'I am Maid to Serve!'.
I had uniforms in every colour of the rainbow, but pink was particularly popular. They were also more restrictive or revealing. Or both. There hardly was any difference now between morning and afternoon wear, especially now I was no longer allowed to wear heels lower than four inches.
Highly annoying was that the satin was so flimsy, uniforms could rip during the simplest of tasks. I had to report every flaw or damage to my outfit, which would be noted down in Madame Directrice's little black book. I assumed the damage was deducted from my supposed pay, but I feared that sooner or later I would be disciplined proportionally to the number of entries...
Most worrisome however, was the evening wear. Some was elegant, most was very slutty, but that was normal. The addition of leather and latex outfits was new. Some even had those horrible integrated bonds in the fabric. I wondered if Miss Margot had been giving Mistress ideas.
After dressing myself I double-checked and then triple-checked my outfit. Seams straight, bows correct, skirt immaculate. I minced over to my vanity mirror, feeling the increased height and instability caused by the platform sole, adding another inch to my four inch heels. I sat down and checked my face and hair.
I didn't have to do much with my hair. Ingrid's handiwork still held firm just fine and I only needed to correct a few stray locks of hair and add some lacquer. Most time I spent on my make-up. Most was bright, obvious and slutty, which was easy to apply, but I spent a lot of time on my cheeks. I added several layers of blush, gradually increasing the brightness of the tone, highlighting my cheekbones. When I was done, I had achieved a very lifelike result. A warm blush of a shy and reluctant sissy, humiliated by her predicament. Just as Ingrid had demanded yesterday. I doubted I actually required make-up to show that, tough.
Now came the difficult part. I had done it before, many times. If fact, I preferred to do it myself, instead of having Mistress' daughters do it for me while they laughed and mocked me. Thank God Brigitt didn't insist on staying!
I can do this, no problem, I thought. Yesterday was easy, right? I took a breath and picked up today's butt-plug, putting some lubricant on it.
I stood up from my dressing table and turned to my floor mirror, looking at the belle in baby blue holding the black penetrator. With my other hand I pulled down the back of my panties down until I felt my sissy hole being exposed.
I could just close my eyes and get this over with, quickly. But I didn't do that. That is what a man would do. I was a sissy. And a well-trained sissy savoured every moment of her femininity and humiliation even if her Mistress was not around to check up on her. Especially if she doesn't really want to. You're only pretending, but always smile as a pretty little sissy should. Fake it till you make it.
I stood in front of my mirror, inspecting my appearance again. Very feminine indeed, my blush was perfect. I turned sideways, so my entire profile was visible. Perky breasts and firm bottom. Taut legs and shiny hair. I kept my knees straight as I bent forward, ass pointed backwards.
I kept watching my reflection as I slowly moved my hand behind me, and worked the plug under my skirt and petticoat until its tip touched my sissy-hole. I felt the cool wetness of the lubricant on my behind.
I made a pretty smile at my refection. My blush perfectly matching the shy and demure look in my eyes. I placed my other hand over my ample cleavage, seductively licked my lips, and slowly applied pressure on the plug.
I felt my sphincter widen as I put the intruder inside of me. It slid in easily, but I uttered a gentle 'ooh' as it passed its widest point. Then it was in, and I shuddered as my sphincter closed behind it. And with that constant reminder of my submission locked in place, my outfit was complete. After another check of my appearance, I was good to go.
I made tiny steps as I left my room, getting used to the extra height of my boots. Despite all my time here, most of it in high heels, this was my first time in platforms. It felt... weird. I couldn't feel the floor through the thick sole. It gave me the feeling I had somehow lost touch with the earth. I really needed to watch my step, while still maintaining an excessively feminine gait. The hallway resounded with the familiar clicking of my five-and-a-half inch heels.
I slowly minced my way towards the room Brigitt had confiscated as her temporary office. I passed Frau Seiler on the corridor, looking puffy as she hurried by. She treated me a bit more kindly these days, accepting the fact I would be part of this household for some time. But she never hid her feelings on young men who dressed and acted as girly maids. As she passed she slowed down just enough to get a good look at me, roll her eyes, give a contemptuous snort and then hurried along before I could even properly greet her.
I arrived at Brigitt's door, but she called out before I could tap on her door.
“Enter, Cheryl. I could hear your heels a mile away.”
I entered, walked over to her desk at the left side of the room, and gave a respectful curtsy. Whereas Madam Directrice would hardly acknowledged my presence when I entered her room, Miss Brigitt had her eyes on me from the moment I passed the threshold, an evil glint in her eyes. She was still holding the dossier she had been reading, but seemed to have lost all interest in its contents.
She put the file down as her eyes scanned me from head to toe.
“My, my, Cheryl. You do not look half bad. Not bad at all...” I smiled at her compliment, but her tone made me fearful. She put down the dossier as she got up and walked over to me.
“Make-up is nice. You look so pretty when you blush, Cheryl”
“Thank You, Miss Brigitt. Miss Ingrid thinks so too. This was her idea.”
She took hold of my chin, moved my head from side to side. “Well done, my dear. I know women who have used make-up for most of their lives and aren't able to make it look as good as you. Who would have thought you were hardly able to hold a razor properly just a few weeks ago. You really are a natural.” I think I blushed for real.
She stepped back. “Nevertheless, as a sissy you should never settle for anything less than perfection. Every flaw, every fault is an insult to your Mistress and will be punished accordingly. There is a streak of eyeshadow there. That is a black mark.”
She walked around me as I kept my eyes on the floor. “Bow is not symmetric. That is another one. Your suspender is twisted too.”
She stepped in front of me again. She lifted my skirt and revealed my sissy-clitty. “At least that looks nice and girly,” she said chuckling.
Her eyes locked on me. “Three black marks. Report them to Esther when you see her. I'm sure she'll have an appropriate punishment for you.”
She smiled wickedly. “Unless, of course, you'd prefer if I would discipline you. I promise I will not spank you hard. In fact, I will not use the crop at all...”
I gasped. What she wasn't saying scared the heck out of me. “Er... Thank you, Miss Brigitt. But Madam Directrice is in charge of disciplining me. I think it would not be proper if...” She interrupted me with a gesture.
“As you wish,” she said somewhat amused, but disappointed. “I do not really have time for you anyway. Don't worry though, I'll schedule in some hours just for you.” I involuntarily gulped.
“Anyway, do you like your new platforms, Cheryl?” she said as she walked over to the bookshelf and took down a box.
“Yes Miss Brigitt,” I said with practised enthusiasm. “They are very pretty. Very feminine. But it is difficult to walk in them. They are very high.”
“Of course they are,” she said as she opened the box. “A sissy wears heels not for her own pleasure. That right is reserved for women only. A sissy wears heels for her Mistress' pleasure. And there is truly nothing more pleasing than seeing a sissy mince about in heels.” She took out two cuffs of white leather.
“Put these around your ankles,” She said sternly. “This strap goes beneath your boot between sole and heel. Then snap it in place and lock the cuff with the padlock.”
I tried to reason with her. “Miss Brigitt, I'm sure this will not be necessary. I promise I will not take my boots off.”
“Do you now?” she snorted. “Too bad the word of a mere sissy does not mean much here. They need constant supervision or else they grow far too lax. And I simply do not have the time to keep a watch on you.”
“But Miss Brigitt, I've never taken my heels off without permission...
“Cheryl!” She yelled, stunning me. “Be quiet, girl! Now quit your whining and put them on.”
She held out the cuffs and I took them. They tingled and I noticed the little bells on them. The confusion must have shown on my face as Brigitt chuckled and elaborated.
“Mutter was complaining the other day about how she sometimes can't seem to find you in this big mansion. One moment you are doing the laundry, the next you dusting the rooms, very hard to keep track of you. And you cannot expect a lady of her status to yell when she's looking for you, now do you?” She looked at me and I mumbled a 'no, Miss Brigitt'.
“Indeed. So we needed to think of another way to be able to locate you.” She smiled at me maliciously. “The bells were my idea.”
She gestured for me to put the cuffs on and stepped around me. I submissively complied, bending forward. As usual, I kept my knees straight so Brigitt got a good look at my panties as my skirt flared up.
Brigitt whistled at the view. “Lock it tight, Cheryl.”
I closed the cuff around the ankle of my right boot, pulling it hard, then wrapped the strap underneath and clicked it in place on the other side. Finally I secured everything with the tiny padlock. I repeated the process with my other foot.
As I stood upright again, I assumed my waiting posture while Brigitt squatted behind me to check the bonds, fidgeting with the straps to make sure there was not too much room to spare. There was tingling as she tapped the bells around my ankles.
Satisfied, she got up. She gave a playful push of my panties where the outline of my plug was visible, causing me to softly yelp in surprise.
“I'll keep the key with me. Come see at the end of your shift, then I will release you.”
She walked back towards her desk and once again looked at me from head to toe, a wicked smirk on her face.
“We're done here, Cheryl.” She said. “For now. Don't forget to report your black marks to Esther. That will be all, girl.”
“Yes Miss Brigitt. Thank you.” I respectfully curtsied, causing the bells to jingle annoyingly.
Brigitt chuckled as she watched me leave, bells drowning out the tap of my heels.
Outside I looked down around my ankles, gently shaking my right foot. The sound of tiny bells filled the corridor. I sighed, and turned towards the direction of today's first chore. This was going to be a long day, I thought.
I made sure I was at Madam Directrice's office at two. This morning's chores were easy enough, but those bells were really getting on my nerves.
“Come in, Cheryl,” Madam Directrice called through her office door.
I walked in and took my place in front of her desk, curtsying. Madam Directrice's desk was again filled with papers, but laid in an ordered row, facing me.
Madam Directrice was standing next to her desk. She looked down to my ankles where the bells tingles at the slightest movement.
“Brigitt?” She simply asked.
“It was Miss Brigitt's idea to put these cuffs and bells on me, Madam Directrice.”
“Mein Gott...” She sighed. “I'll have a talk with Christina about this. Until then, please do not pass through this hallway unless you are coming to see me. Do you have any idea how bloody annoying those bells are?”
I was about to blurt an answer, but at the last moment thought better of it. Instead I told her about my black marks.
“Madam Directrice, this morning Miss Brigitt found flaws in my appearance, earning me three black marks. A smear of eyeshadow at the corner of my eye. The bow of my apron was not perfectly tied. And one of my garters got a twist in them. I would like to report them in order to receive a suitable punishment in order to improve myself.”
She nodded. “Very well. But that can wait. We have important work to do. Come here, girl.” She beckoned me forward.
I stepped over to her desk and got a good look at the documents there. Most were in German or some other language I couldn't understand. Some were in English, but one would need to be a lawyer to understand what was written.
“Remember that I said you would need to pay a price?” Madam Directrice looked at me gravely. “That time has come. I want you to sign these documents.”
I looked at the many papers. “What are they?”
“You said you were willing to pay your due.” Her eyes bored into mine. “Are you backing out?”
“...No.” It sounded like a whisper.
“Then sign them.”
She handed me a pen, and pointed towards the first document. A little 'x' marked the spot where I had to set my signature. I scribbled my stylised CH.
After I had signed the first document, I had to sign another of the same stack. And another. Then she closed the first folder and pointed me to the next one, repeating the process.
I was busy for half an hour. By that time Madam Directrice had closed and filed away a dozen folders. Mostly I had to write my signature, but I even had to put ink on my fingertips to register my prints on one sheet. She also swabbed some saliva from inside my mouth and then carefully placed the swab inside a plastic container.
For some reason, after those ominous words, I had expected something to happen when we were done. But the earth didn't shake, nor did the sun black out. Madam Directrice just took out cigarette and lighted it up. It felt a bit anticlimactic, really.
When she had finished half her cigarette, she put it on her ashtray and took out another file. After gesturing me to take a seat, and I slowly sat down, not putting too much pressure on my plug. She opened the file on the first page and showed it to me. It was my original contract I had signed on my second day here, in this very office.
“This is now void,” she simply said.
I didn't understand what she was saying, but my eyes widened as she took her lighter and put a flame at the corner of the document until a flame caught hold. She dropped the burning document into a metal trash bin where the flames consumed the rest.
“Charles doesn't work here. Charles has never worked here,” she said to me.
“But Madam Directrice...” I gasped. “I have to leave? You said I would stay here. Be with Mistress Christina!”
She smiled as she shook her head. “Oh, believe me, you are not going anywhere.”
I looked at her confused as she took out another document.
“This is you.” She handed me the papers. “Your new identity.”
I looked at the document. It had a picture of a girl on the front page. I didn't understand until I realized it was the same girl who had been looking back at me every day in the mirror.
The document was in German, but I found the line where the girl's name was written down.
“Cheryl Rosatunte?” I said hesitatingly.
“It's pronounced ROsa-tOOnte. That is your name, yes.” She looked at me as if the name should ring a bell, but continued when no reply was forthcoming. “That has always been your name.”
She took back the document and leafed through it casually as she said: “Charles never set foot in this building. As far as anyone is concerned he left this country weeks ago. Who knows to where? And it is Cheryl who has been working here as a maid all these weeks. A somewhat confused Swiss young man.”
I tried to say speak, but no words came out of my mouth. I only managed a gasping 'why?'.
“Cheryl, I told you how important your role in all this is. Things have been already been put in motion and cannot be undone, and I can no longer allow you to back out or have second thoughts.”
She picked up her cigarette. “You know who Cortez was? No? He was a Spanish conqueror, who defeated the Aztec empire and conquered much of present day Mexico.”
She took a huff and blew the smoke. “When he landed on the New World, he burned down his ships. He believed it would motivate his soldiers. They would now give their all for victory, for without a way back home any other outcome would mean certain death.”
She looked at me. “I've done the same with you. You have to go forward, since there is no turning back anymore.”
I was dumbfounded.
She drew on her cigarette, made on 'o' with her mouth and blew a ring of smoke. We both looked at it as is drifted by until it dissipated. She then continued. “This débâcle with Daniëlle was possible because Margot and Christina believed, what I believed, that Daniëlle and you were under our control. Boy, were we wrong.”
She looked at me. “I now know why. Margot had created a reality for Daniëlle where her fate as a sissy was inevitable. Inside that reality Margot's control was almost complete. But outside Margot's grasp Daniëlle didn't need long to break our hold on her.”
She pointed her cigarette at me. “Given the stakes, I cannot allow that to happen to you too. So I had to extend our reach. I came up with an idea that if you ever managed to give us the slip, there'd be no place for you to go. We'd have you back home with us very quickly. Back in your cute skirts and heels.”
“I won't run away,” I said meekly.
“I know you wholeheartedly believe that,” she sounded emphatically. “But two week ago you probably never even imagined betraying Christina. Yet shortly after, you helped Daniëlle escape.” She sighed. “I simply cannot risk you doing something very stupid on a whim. So I'm putting you on a very short leash, metaphorically speaking. Well, mostly metaphoric anyway.”
She frowned. “You look a bit pale, dear. Are you all right? Let me get you some water.” She walked over to the table with the water bottle.
“With this new identity, your identity, you can barely run, and you certainly can't hide,” she said as she opened the bottle and poured me a glass. “You cannot go to the US. Cheryl is not an American, she has no property or belongings there, she cannot even apply for a visa without her guardian giving explicit permission.”
She walked over to me hand handed me the glass. But she didn't let go. Her eyes caught mine. “That would be me, by the way. I have complete and total power-of-attorney over all of your affairs. You cannot buy a pack of chewing gum without my explicit permission. Or those that I have appointed to watch over you, like Christina.”
She let go of the glass and sat down on the other seat in front of the desk. “And no-one will find that strange. As a matter of fact, they will be glad you have someone to control you. Because Cheryl has a very colourful history. A whole list of psychological problems, many of them gender related.”
I nervously took a sip of the cool liquid and felt it glide down my throat.
She turned a page. “She also has a criminal record.”
I gasped. My mouth felt dry.
“A long criminal record, I might add.” Madam Directrice added casually as she turned another page.
She squinted as she looked at a particular entry. “They made that illegal? I didn't think that was actually possible...”
She tapped the ash of her cigarette and he turned back towards me. “Anyway, you have been quite a nuisance for the Swiss authorities and social services. They have no idea what to do with you. Fortunately, I seem to be able to keep you mostly out of trouble. With the gracious help of Christina and her daughters who took you in their home to give you some stability, while you get some education and employment in the service industry.”
She leaned in towards me. Her eyes were stern. “You are in the system now. This means if you run away, the police will help me find you. When they do, they will pay no heed to ramblings on you being forced into dresses or to take it up the ass. Those are just the words of a very confused boy. One who had his gender registered not as 'male' or 'female', but as 'undecided.'“
She tapped on the document. I could make out the word 'unentschieden' on the paper. She smirked. “We have that option in this country. We pride ourselves on our progressiveness.“
She drew another huff of smoke and blew it out. The rest of the cigarette she extinguished on the ashtray. “At any rate, they will cuff you for your own protection, and then take you back here. Where we will thank them for their assistance in bringing this wayward young sissy home. And when they are gone, me, Christina, her daughters and everyone else I can authorize will take turns in making sure you'll never get it in your thick skull ever again to run away.” Her voice was monotone. This was not a threat. She was just stating a fact. I took a big gulp of water.
“Still, if Christina ever gets tired of these antics, she might just wash her hands of you just as she did with Daniëlle. In that case, I will report to the authorities that your placement at Christina's household has proven a failure and that you've blown your last chance. They will then pick you up so you can serve the remainder of your jail time.”
“Jail!?” I cried and almost dropped the glass.
“Yes. The details are not important, but suffice to say you still have six months to serve. Only my and Christina's patronage keeps you out of it.” She leaned back into her chair. “Now, a Swiss jail cell is not that bad, really. So I think six months is long enough to let it sink in, while too short for you to get too accustomed to the regime. More importantly, once you are out, you will be homeless, penniless, unable to speak the language or to find a job due to your criminal record and psychological profile. You will have to become someone's bitch just to survive.”
My head was spinning as I tried to make sense of it all. I took a sip of cool water to clear my mind. “...But if I go to the...” I started to say.
“To the US consulate?” she interrupted. “Well, you might be able to convince them that you are actually poor Charles. You would find they are very happy to see you.” She chuckled. “As a matter of fact, they would be downright elated.”
“Huh?” was all I could say.
“You see, in the right circles fake identities are valuable, but even the best forgeries can be disproven. Real identities however... Oh, they are worth their weight in gold.” She smiled conspiratorially. “I took the liberty of selling Charles' identity to a character who is using it for some very shady deals. By now, the name of 'Charles' is quickly rising through the FBI's and Homeland Security's wanted lists. Yes, I do believe they would be very happy to receive you, just before putting you in a very dark hole for a very long time.”
I was unable to utter a sound. Captivated I was as I listened to her explain how she had destroyed my life.
She chuckled. “Assuming of course you can convince they you are the notorious 'Charles'. More likely they will have a good laugh at your cute pink dress and lovely high heels and ask the Swiss police to bring you back to us.” I think I blushed.
“Though I doubt Charles would ever want to go back to the US. There are only debts waiting for him there.” She shrugged.
I regained my voice. “Charles has no... I mean, I have no debts!” I protested. I may not have had much back home, but I prided myself that I paid my bills and didn't spend a cent more than I earned.
“Well, he does now.” She got out another document from the folder. “Setting up your new identity has been a costly affair, and selling your old one only covered part of it. So I tried to sell some of your belongings, since you wouldn't need them anymore. Unfortunately, it only consisted of some mouldy furniture locked up in a garage of a decaying apartment building, so you didn't really have anything worth selling.”
She gave me a wide grin. “But you got to love the American banking system. As long as your credit rating is good, you can borrow all the money you'll never need. Once I discovered that despite your meagre possessions yours was excellent, I used some creative bookkeeping to get the maximum loan from five different banks. You are now over three grand in debt.” She pointed at a six digit number on the document.
My mouth fell wide open.
She took the glass from my hand before I could drop it. “By now someone must have discovered that naughty Charles had suddenly drained his accounts and is no longer in the country. Vanished without a trace. I wonder what a bank would do to someone who swindles them like that?”
“But don't worry,” she said mockingly. “The money cannot be traced back to you. Over half of it I used on your new identity. One grand I stashed away in case I need to make some money transfers that must not appear on the books. Sixty thousand I've given to Christina as expenses for taking care of dear sweet Cheryl Rosatunte.”
“You will never see this money yourself, of course. She doesn't want to spoil you.” She put my glass and the document back on the table. “But she is more than happy to blow this amount on you in other ways. No expense is going to be spared for her lovely little sissy Cheryl.”
She got up and walked around her desk, sitting down in her office chair. “I fear that with what she is doing the account is empty before the year is out. But I think we can afford to be generous. Why I do believe a certain little someone will get a lovely new pair of heels tomorrow.” She shot me an amused wink.
She leaned back into her chair, her hand folded in front of her. She looked at me over the edge of her hands. “Just remember that from now on every time you wear a cute new dress, mince around on some new heels, or have an unfamiliar dildo up you little hole, you probably paid for it yourself.”
We sat there in silence for a moment. I was looking at my boots while thoughts swam through my mind. I looked at the white patent leather that encased my feet from toe to ankle. They were very pretty, but looked so inescapable. I studied the cuffs that locked them tight, the little bells that broadcasted my submission to anyone within ear's reach. I looked at the hem of my dress, flaring upwards even while sitting down thanks to the elaborate petticoat underneath. Light coming from the windows behind Madam Directrice reflected the light blue fabric. My satin prison.
“So what happens now,” I finally asked.
“Now? You go back to your chores. Those panties do not wash themselves, you know.”
“So I am still a maid?”
“Technically... No. I destroyed Charles' contract, so your employment as a maid no longer exists. It has never existed. And none of the documents you signed was a new one.”
“So what am I then?”
She rubbed her chin as she looked past me, thinking. Weighing the words she was about to say. Then her eyes focused on mine. “The legal term for people like you is slave,” she said bluntly.
This shocked me. I've been called a lot of things since arriving here. Maid, sissy, girl, slut, pet, hussy. And I've always been on the bottom of the ladder here. Yet no-one ever said I was a slave. And what on earth did she mean with 'legal term'?
“Madame Directrice?” I asked confused.
“Of course, slavery is highly illegal in Switzerland. As is any practice where people are exploited against their will.” She waved her hand around. “But not even here does the law cover every eventuality. And the agencies that are created to protect people are a bureaucratic mess. People fall between the cracks all the time.” She shrugged.
I heard the bells on my ankles tinkle, but otherwise I remained completely silent as I listened to her explanation.
She leaned forward and put her elbows on her desk. “Your identity is a work of art. I have exploited a dozen loopholes and ambiguities, manipulated the authorities and social services, played several agencies against one another and have all the documents in place to make it legal and official.” There was a content glint in her eyes. She was clearly proud of her work.
“You know, I didn't need you signing these papers here at all. Everything was already in place. But I'm a perfectionist, so I prefer to dot the i's and cross the t's. Having your own signature on some papers gives it a bit more validation.” She smiled.
“I'm not a slave!” I cried. “I have rights, I have...” She shot me a stern look that shut me up immediately.
Her eyes bored into mine. “All your rights and privileges have been scattered and diffused into a bureaucratic nightmare at the end of which one person controls your entire existence. Me. And thus by extension Christina. Her daughters and Margot also have a certain amount of authority over you. Others may follow. But you? You. Have. Nothing,” she snarled.
I winced, and felt tears in my eyes.
She relaxed and her voice grew more mellow. “No rights and no free will, except for what we allow you to have. And if you ever escape, the people who are supposed to protect you are the ones who will track you down and deliver you to our doorstep, requesting us to punish you in whatever way we see fit. That is the essence of slavery. You are a slave.”
I put my hands over my face as I started to sob. Madame Directrice handed me a tissue before tears would completely ruin my make-up.
A slave. I came to Europe to experience freedom, and now my old life was destroyed and a new life forced upon me. Life of... a slave? A sissy slave! My God, what had I done?
She leaned back into her chair. “Just remember: you chose this. I warned you and offered a way out.”
She did. “Yes Madame Directrice,” I nodded.
She let me sob and sulk there for a while, pouring me another glass of water.
Finally she interrupted her silence. “Cheer up, Cheryl. You are a very remarkable sissy. You were made for this life. Your old identity? That was the fake one. Cheryl Rosatunte is who you really are. You will be fine, you'll see.”
Remarkably, I found that somewhat comforting. “Thank You Madame Directrice.” I muttered.
By the time I had finished my second glass of water I had somewhat regained my composure.
“I will have to perform maid duties?” I asked.
“Of course. This house does not clean itself, now does it?” Madame Directrice replied. “We will try to keep your daily routine as much as it was before. You will still have your Wednesday afternoon off. However, we can change that in any which way we like, obviously. And you will be required to satisfy Christina's and Margot's urges whenever and wherever they desire. You will be in complete obedience to every woman, and cannot deny them anything. Understood?”
I nodded. “Yes, Madame Directrice.”
“Wait, scratch that. You can. You are first and foremost beholden to Christina, and are not allowed to do anything that comes into conflict with her desires or interest. Not even if you are forced to. It will be regarded as your fault if you do.”
“That's not fair!” I cried.
She smirked. “Well, of course not. I never said your life is fair.”
She continued: “You can even try to say no to Christina. Up to a point at least. She likes her sissies to have some fight left in them, show some resistance before she breaks it down. Just do not go too far.”
“How do I know what's too far?” I asked confused.
“That is simple. If she enjoyed your resistance, she'll simply punish you. Creatively. I you antagonise her however... Well, you'll know. You'll learn soon enough. Impossible to say in advance, though.” She shrugged.
I opened my mouth to say something, but no words formed in my mind. I simply remained silent to process these implications.
“Do you have any other questions?” Madame Directrice finally said.
“...Does Mistress know about my new name?” I asked.
“She does,” Madame Directrice answered. “And the reason why. Well, most of it anyway. I told her that as a token of your appreciation for her and to prove you would never want to leave her, you denounced your old identity and I grafted a new one for you.” She shrugged. “So I told the truth, really. Anything else?”
I shook my head. “No Madame Directrice.”
“Then we are done here. Fix yourself and then get back to your chores. It will help you clear that pretty little head of yours. But I want you to return at five o'clock. There is still that little matter of your black marks.”
I got up and curtsied. “Yes, Madame Directrice. May I be excused?”
“Please do. And I do not want to hear those annoying bells before five, is that understood?”
“Thank you, Madame Directrice. I understand.” I turned on my heels and left her office.
Monday, February 13, 2017
Saturday, February 11, 2017
I'm posting another shortie that I wrote yesterday. I meant to make it as fast-paced and steamy as it could be, to see if writing it would make me come in my panties. It didn't, the writing dragged on for hours, and the story ended up with more than 3000 words, offering you a full view into what makes me tick these days. Other than the unorthodox cast of the heroes, it is hardly original. You will find it sports all the classic hot tickets: big and commanding women, inefficient small men, challenging of masculinity and gender roles in general, aprons, etc. The more observant among you will also spot a silent nod to Bea. A word of warning - due to the relation between the heroes of the story, some of you will probably not enjoy it.
I'm posting another shortie that I wrote yesterday. I meant to make it as fast-paced and steamy as it could be, to see if writing it would make me come in my panties. It didn't, the writing dragged on for hours, and the story ended up with more than 3000 words, offering you a full view into what makes me tick these days. Other than the unorthodox cast of the heroes, it is hardly original. You will find it sports all the classic hot tickets: big and commanding women, inefficient small men, challenging of masculinity and gender roles in general, aprons, etc. The more observant among you will also spot a silent nod to Bea. A word of warning - due to the relation between the heroes of the story, some of you will probably not enjoy it.
Friday, February 3, 2017
Chapter 33: Clearing the air. Cheryl makes a fresh start. As much as a sissy can, that is.
They escorted me to the dining room. It would be at least thirty minutes before lunch was ready, but preparations were already being made. Miss Ingrid and Martina walked behind me as I minced, making mocking complements about my hilariously feminine outfit.
“Seems like our little sissy is in a hurry,” Ingrid said as she admonished me about my gait, ensuring my steps were appropriately short and my bottom wiggled with each step. “I think she's afraid of being late for lunch.”
“Aw, don't worry Cheryl,” Martina chuckled. “Lunch cannot start without the main course.”
I pondered about that suggestive remark for a moment, but then we reached the door to the dining room and put my full attention to my duties at hand.
Ingrid knocked the door. “Enter!” I heard Mistress call.
“Wait here, Cheryl,” Martina said as both she and Ingrid entered, closing the door before me.
I waited there for a while, hearing soft talk filter through the grand oak-wooden door. Then I heard chairs move and people walking around. The door opened and Martina stood in the doorway.
“Mutter. Ladies. I’d like to present you with the new and improved maid Cheryl. She gave us quite a scare, but now she is cuter than ever!” She winked at me. “Do come in, girl.”
I minced in, as sissy-like as I possibly could. My hands and butt-cheeks swinging to the tapping of my heels. I put a smile on my face that Mistress Christina particularly liked, which was somewhere in between blissful ignorance and air-headed happiness.
I was surrounded on all sides. Mistress Christina stood in front of me with a dignified expression. Miss Brigit stood next to her, grinning widely. She must have arrived yesterday. Martina and Brigitt were standing to the sides and rear of me. Both seemed very proud of their handiwork.
“Good afternoon, Mistress,” I said while I did a very deep, very proper curtsy.
I then bobbed a curtsy for each of her daughters by order of seniority. Brigitt gave me a lustful grin and a suggestive wink, which I tried not to think about. Ingrid smiled mockingly and Martina just nodded. Then I turned to Madame Directrice, who was still sitting at the table, sideways on her chair as she just looked at me with a neutral expression. She didn't acknowledge my gesture.
I turned back towards Mistress Christina. She looked positively regal. Her outfit looked both business-like and formal, but to Mistress it must have been causal wear. It was quite formfitting and showed off her well shaped figure that was sure to be the envy of many women half her age. Her suit looked simple, but was clearly of excellent quality and her grey blouse contrasted nicely with the dark blue of her skirt and short jacket. On her legs she had dark stockings and matte-black shoes with short 2 inch heels that nonetheless seemed to give her a very erect posture. She wore a necklace with silver stars on a shield of blue, the badge of her House. I had to remember to close my mouth when I looked at her in awe.
Despite her distinguished posture, she had a smile on her face that showed both gladness and amusement. Her eyes scanned me from top to bottom and back again. “Where did you get this outfit, girl?” She asked me.
“Miss Ingrid and Martina laid it out for me, Mistress,” I answered as I did another curtsey. I knew I looked ridiculous, but smiled like I was happily ignorant of that fact.
“I bet they did,” she said. I heard her two daughters chuckle behind me.
She made two steps in my direction and grabbed my chin, moving my head from side to side. “Hmm, I like your hair. You did this, Ingrid?”
“Jawohl, Mutter. It took some time, but I'm very happy with the result. Perhaps you should let me experiment on Cheryl's hair more often. You'll love it, I promise.”
“We'll see,” she said non-committal as she stepped back.
“Turn around,” she commanded. “Bend over, lift your dress. Show me your panties.” I did. I heard the younger women chuckle.
“The seam of your left stocking is crooked. That is a black mark. Would you take note of that, Ester?” I heard Madame Directrice say a short confirmation.
“Up girl,” Mistress said. “Turn around. Face me. Lift your skirts.”
“Yes Mistress,” I said smiling, but blushing with shame as I pulled up my dress and revealed my privates in front of these women.
Brigitt squealed with delight. Even Mistress was clearly amused. “Oh my, crotchless panties again, girls?”
Martina explained: “I've bought a ton of them. Cheryl will never have to hide her little clitty ever again. Wouldn't you like that, Cheryl? Have your skirts gently stroke your clitty with every step?”
“Oh yes, Miss Martina. I would love that, thank you.” My face must have burned red with shame. Still, I had to admit it did feel rather nice...
“Then it is settled.” Mistress said as she stepped forward again. Her hand went down under the skirts I was still holding up, her fingers closing gently around the short shaft. I gasped at her touch. “Cheryl will now wear crotchless underwear exclusively.”
I saw Brigitt lick her lips, but tried to focus on Mistress as she kept moving her hand over my clitty, eyes fixed on mine. I felt myself getting harder. My heart was racing, but I did not know whether it was due to myself getting excited or the humiliating feeling of having my privates being teased while standing in the centre of attention of five very dominant women.
Mistress kept up her movements, and I started feeling woozy, unsteady on my heels. Her appearance became a blur as my eyes seemed to glaze over.
And suddenly it was over. Mistress simply let go and stepped back, an amused smirk on her face. I felt completely frustrated. Despite my humiliation, I desperately wanted to come, but it was clear this was it. I really was left hanging. Mistress gave me wicked smile.
“Keep that skirt up, sissy!” Brigitt suddenly snapped. “Your Mistress didn't say you could lower it. Pay attention, girl.”
“It seems that our little sissy is a bit flustered,” Mistress said. “I think we need to get her mind off her clitty if she is to be of any use serving us today.”
“Oh, I have an idea, Mutter,” Brigitt injected. She turned to Ingrid and said a few words in German. Ingrid returned a wide grin, nodded and left the room.
She then turned to me, her mouth close to my ear so only I could hear her. She whispered me a couple of instructions. I just nodded, unable to say anything as I felt my heart sink. Could this be any worse?
Of course it could. At that moment Ingrid came back in, carrying a video camera on a tripod. Mistress smiled in surprise.
As Ingrid pointed the camera straight at me, Brigitt gave me a few more instructions. “... and don't forget to smile,” she finished.
Brigitt signaled the others to get out of the camera's view. The others were only a few meters away, but I felt very lonely, having to face its lens all alone. I was still holding my skirt, my privates clearly visible for the camera, while I smiled like a dumb bimbo. The evil eye turned red.
Brigitt waved with her hand. This was my cue.
“Itsy bitsy Spider...” I began to sing merrily.
“...Climbing up the sprout.” I waved the hem of my skirt, while marking time to the rhythm of the rhyme. My heels clicked with each step, and I could feel my sissy parts wiggle.
“Down came the rain...” I made a few dainty steps to one side, butt wiggling, then threw a look over my shoulder to the camera, winking suggestively.
“...And washed the spider out.” Three steps in the other direction. I bent forward, prominently displaying my bottom to the camera. I looked over my other shoulder, and sensually licked my lips.
“Out came the sun... And dried up all the rain.” I minced across the camera's field of vision, but never leaving it. I looked into the camera, put one finger in my mouth and gently sucked it.
“Now itsy bitsy spider... Went up the sprout again,” I sang as I held of my skirt once more, took small steps back towards my starting position, made a kissy-face, gave a curtsey and ended with the same pose as I started with. Smiling, but I felt like crying of shame.
For a moment everything was quiet. Even Mistress was looking at me with her mouth wide open. Brigitt had an evil grin on her face, while her sisters were clearly dumbstruck. Even Madame Directrice's eyes were wide.
There was a snicker, then a chuckle, then a single laugh, and then a thunderous roar as everyone burst out in laughter. Everyone but me that is.
Mistress had completely lost her dignified composure, laughing out loud, her hand on her face. I saw her look at me through my fingers, then close her eyes as if she suffered from vicarious shame. Martina and Ingrid were laughing and chattering in their native tongue. Brigitt whistled at me and made cat-calls.
I just stood there, still holding the hem of my dress. Smiling. I felt my face burn, holding back the tears as these horrible, mean women dredged up every single shred of dignity I had left and tore them to even smaller pieces. I wanted to run away, crying, but my heels felt like they were locked in place. I wanted to cover up. Hide my privates, hide my ludicrous outfit, hide my face. But my gloves didn't let go of the skirt. My hands didn't cover my face.
I kept my sissy pose, while my tormentors showered me in mocking praise. Mistress finally stopped laughing, though her smile was from ear to ear, and hushed the others.
“Again,” she simply said.
Merrily I sang the tune, went through my paces, made my gestures. This time Mistress' daughters were calling from the sidelines, shouting remarks, ideas and criticism. Mistress was just watching with amusement as she pulled the strings on her little puppet and made her dance.
“Again. Smaller steps. Flaunt that cute butt.” She said once more.
“Again.” This time I could finally drop the hem of my dress. Just had to keep my elbows to my side and wrists limp, sissy-like, letting them flap around with my steps.
“Again.” This time Brigitt had me sing new words to the tune. With matching gestures. I sang it, smiling like an idiot.
“Pretty little sissy, was mincing all about... Here comes your Mistress, and makes you cry out loud... Out come two dildos, she puts one in your mouth... And when you are nice and quiet, she'll put one there down-south!”
They just loved that song. They all agreed it was to become my personal anthem. I was to sing and dance it every time someone said: 'pretty little sissy'.
“Pretty little sissy,” my Mistress said.
“Pretty little sissy,” Brigitt called. She had given me my lollipop, to use as 'a microphone for our little starlet'.
“Pretty little sissy,” Ingrid shouted. She had taken my lollipop and put it in my mouth. I went through my moves, made my steps. I even sang the words, but only mumbles and moans were audible.
“Pretty little sissy,” Martina laughed. Again my mouth was filled with my lollipop, but that didn't matter. My tormentors were loudly singing the tune while clapping to the rhythm of my heels.
I sang and danced my routine. Each attempt more humiliating then the other. And it was all being filmed. Another fine addition to my personal video collection. I would undoubtedly be forced to watch it. Again and again.
And then, suddenly, it was all over. The diner bell rang. Frau Seiler had finished lunch. I was just in the middle of my little dance, but Mistress told me to stop and check my uniform. She then signaled her daughters to take their seats at the table. Martina took her place without complaint, still chuckling. Brigitt and Ingrid started whining.
“Aaw,” Ingrid said. “I just got her to make the perfect sissy-pout.”
“Just one more time, Mutter. I have this great idea for her to...” Brigitt tried.
“Not now, girls.” Mistress interrupted. “You know Frau Seiler gets very offended if we let her food get cold.” She turned to me. “Cheryl dear, get me some wet wipes and then take your place at the serving station. Hurry now, girl.”
I took my lollipop out of my mouth. “Yes, Mistress.”
She wiped her hands with the moist tissues I got her. I took my place next to the service table.
Frau Seiler came in with a cart loaded with food, both hot dishes and cold cuts. Mistress said something to Frau Seiler, which apparently surprised her, but she gave a curt acknowledgement. I received a dirty look, but then she just shrugged and started to unload everything on the serving table. She left without a word, but rolled her eyes when she gave me an aside glance.
“I have given Miss Seiler the rest of the day off. You will be serving us today, Cheryl. All of us,” Mistress said.
I curtsied. “Yes Mistress. I would be honoured.” Well, I really was. Up till now only got to assist Frau Seiler, serving only one person at once. But I was also concerned. Five people would increase my workload considerably.
“You should be. I'm putting a lot of trust in your abilities. Do not disappoint,” she warned me.
“Oh now, Mutter,” Ingrid said. “I'm sure Cheryl will do fine.” She turned to me with a wicked smile. “After all, she knows how we deal with failure in this house. Don't you Cheryl?”
I made a curtsey. “Yes Miss Ingrid, I do.” She was obviously trying to psych me out. And it was working.
Nevertheless, it all went pretty well. By now I was quite apt at the role of serving girl, and though I was continuously running around, I made few mistakes. Still, each one was noticed by one of the ladies and noted down by Madame Directrice in her little black booklet.
Most difficult was serving Mistress' daughters, who had great fun trying to confuse me. They would each order the same drink, but instead of ordering at once they did so one at a time, causing me to mince up and down to the serving station three times with the same item. Or they would order the same thing all three at once, but with minimal differences and watch me squirm as I tried to remember who had the toast with regular butter, the light butter or cream butter.
Mistress herself didn't involve herself in these games, but was simply very demanding. She would order items without bothering to look at me, and gave me an annoyed frown if I asked for confirmation or clarification, scoring me another black mark. She also brooked no delay, scolding me if I took long with fulfilling whatever she wanted. I was caught between the norm of a very short mincing gait and a desire to hurry up and run. Ingrid called out laughing when she caught me making a step that was longer than proper to a sissy.
But when the plates and glasses were filled, attention shifted from me to the food. I occasionally had to refill a glass or bring another sandwich, but mostly the women forgot about me and started chatting with one another.
Except for Madame Directrice. Her gaze kept falling on me. While the other ladies were talking to one another in Italian (it never seized to amaze me how skilled these ladies' were with languages), she excused herself and left the room, giving me a glare as she passed me by.
This unsettled me gravely. Clearly Madame Directrice blamed me for Mistress' rebuking her. And having that woman, who has so much control over my life (not to mention hits so hard), to be angry with me... That was bad. I do not think my nerves could take her fury too. Being Mistress' maid and toy was pressure enough, thank you very much.
My musings were interrupted by Mistress. “Cheryl? Come here, girl.”
“Yes Mistress,” I pattered over to her side and made a curtsey. “How may I be of assistance?”
She smiled. “Come sit with me.”
“I'd be honoured Mistress. But what if you or your daughters need to be served?” I asked.
Mistress chuckled. She grabbed my hand gave it a tug, pulling me on her lap. “That will not be necessary, I'm sure,” she said amused as she glanced around the table. “Right, girls?” Martina chuckled. Ingrid rolled her eyes.
Mistress shifted my position until my legs were across her lap. I had lost quite some weight since I first arrived here, and she had no difficulty moving me around. She let my plugged bottom rest on her left thigh. I felt the increased pressure on my bottom.
“Are you hungry, my dear?” Mistress said.
As on cue my stomach rumbled. I had an extensive late breakfast, but didn't eat any food yesterday and the smell of the Frau Seiler's hot dishes was very enticing. “Yes Mistress” I added shyly.
She picked up a little ball on her plate. “These are what we call Knoedels. Dumplings. Miss Seiler makes them according to her own family recipe. The stubborn woman refuses to even tell me what spices she puts in them but they are great.” She took a small bite. “Want to try one, Cheryl?”
“If Mistress wouldn't mind...” I said. Technically I was still only the serving girl and it is a huge no-no to help yourself to food if the Lady of the House is still eating. Even if you are sitting on her lap.
“Oh, of course not, dear. Here, I'll even help. Open...” I opened my mouth and she put the remainder of the dumpling in my mouth and pushed my chin upwards to close it. “Guten Appentit, Maedchen,” she said.
It was a little ball of dough with strawberry jam filling. I tasted a hint of spices. Cinnamon? Ginger? The outside already started to cool, but the jam was still quite hot. I rolled it around in my mouth before biting on it.
“They are good, no?”
I made sure my mouth was empty before answering. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Want another?” She held up another dumpling.
“Yes, please. Thank you Mistress.” My hand went towards the dumpling, but I saw her frown at me. I lowered my hand and opened my mouth.
“Here you go, dear,” she said smiling as she put another ball in my mouth.
After the a few dumplings she fed me two slices of toast with creamy butter, followed by some hard-boiled egg and rye bread with some vegetable salad.
While she was feeding me she was chatting merrily with the others, who aside from a few amused glances in my direction were mostly ignoring me. As their plates emptied, they excused themselves and left the room. Martina left first, giving me a playful wink. Next was Ingrid, who exchanged some words with Mistress as she left. Only Brigitt remained.
As Mistress' daughters started to leave and she finished her meal, her attention focused on me. I noticed that someone had turned on the music. Mistress fed me the final scraps of her plate, then put her arms around me.
Her hands moved over my body. Her left hand stroked the back of my head, down past my back and to my bottom. Her right hand touched and teased my breasts. I wasn't wearing any nipple clamps behind my falsies like Miss Margot made me do, so I could not feel her touch and squeeze my fake nipples, but her hands also stroked my real skin around my breasts. Her hand went down to stocking clad legs, and back up to my clitty, purposefully brushing against it. It was all very subtle, very soft, but I felt my breathing becoming heavier.
“You like that, Cheryl?” she asked
“Yes, Mistress,” I answered truthfully.
“Look at me. Put your arms around me, dear.” Her eyes betrayed both lust and affection.
She began to move her left leg, on which I sat. I felt the plug in my bottom move around too. She moved it in small circles, and gently up and down. I gasped as the pressure in my rear became intolerable, then relaxed, then increased again as the penetrator moved back deeper inside me.
“I love your outfit,” she said. “You look so pretty in it. So vulnerable, so submissive. You like it too?”
“Oh yes, Mistress.” This answer was a bit less truthful.
“Tell me what you like about it. Tell me everything.” She whispered in my ear.
I knew I simply had to tell her what humiliated me about this outfit. What made me feel vulnerable and restricted. What made me feel like a sissy. And adding that I loved it.
“Oh Mistress, I love this dress. It is so short! It barely covers my clitty. When I bend over, everyone can see my panties. When I...” I gasped as she pushed the plug in deeper ”...walk, I hear the petticoats ruffle against one another, and feel the satin tease my clitty. And it has such a nice frilly apron, so everyone can see I am a sissy-maid. There is a lovely maid's cap on my empty little head. It is pinned into place, so I cannot take if off. Isn't that wonderful? And these gloves are so soft. Everything I touch feels... Ow... feels soft, like satin. And they have adornments around the wrists that match my choker around my neck, like I am a slave-girl.”
She smiled widely, then kissed me on the lips, forcefully. Her tongue forced itself into my mouth. I felt her hand move under my skirts, touching my clitty. I felt myself get excited again. She didn't let go.
Her lips withdrew from mine. “Go on,” she simply said.
It became harder to think, teased from the front and probed from the rear. “And I adore my heels. They are so high! They do not allow me to make anything but the smallest steps and are so difficult to keep my balance in. They force me to mince wherever I go, heels clicking with every step so everyone knows wherever I am, arms prettily by my sides. And I am so glad that they put so much tension on my calves, making my legs and bottom so firm, so girly. Just like Mistress likes it! I can never forget that I am wearing heels, that I am a sissy toddling around the house.”
She clearly enjoyed hearing this. Her tongue went into my mouth again. She stepped up the movement of her left leg, moving the plug deeper and quicker inside me. This was matched by the increased teasing of her hand. I was reduced to putty in her hands, occasionally moaning under her touch.
I heard a thud, and turned my head. Brigitt stood next to me. I had completely forgotten she was still in the room! She was looming over me, giving me a wicked grin, then turned to Mistress and said a few words in a language I couldn't identify. The pushed the little box she just placed on the table towards Mistress. I saw a condom in its unopened package lying on top of it.
Mistress acknowledged her remark and gave her a nod aimed at the door. She smiled and turned away, glancing at me with a mixture of amusement and lust. I followed her as she left the room, until Mistress grabbed my chin and turned my face towards her again, kissing me forcefully.
“Grab me that condom, dear. Yes. Now open it, please,” Mistress said soothingly.
I opened the package and took out the small latex item. Mistress held out her hand, and I placed it on top of her palm. She took hold of it with her well-manicured fingers and moved it towards my clitty, which had become quite hard by now.
“We wouldn't want you to make a mess, now do we?” she cooed. With one hand she placed the condom over my clitty, unrolling it down its shaft.
“Unfortunately, they do not sell anything smaller than this, but it will do for now,” she said in a mocking tone, though by now I had gotten so excited to I could only happily agree with the insult.
She shifted my position on her lap, making sure my full weight was on my plug. My feet were lifted from the ground, inadvertently swinging and kicking to the rhythm of the plug. Mistress put her mouth on mine again, her hand not letting go of my clitty.
She continued stroking and teasing my privates while her tongue probed my mouth. The thrusts of the plug caused tremors all over my body. Somewhere deep inside me I knew this was wrong, humiliating, being manhandled while sitting on someone's lap, dressed as a maid no less. But the rest of me didn't care anymore. Mistress had taken me over completely.
I felt her fingers going over my clitty, faster and faster. I think I felt my heartbeat in my groin. Mistress didn't let up. I felt tension build. Then sudden release. My hips rocked as I came into the condom.
Mistress held me tight as I came, but lessened her grip as my body relaxed.
“Are you alright, dear?” she asked as she withdrew her lips from mine. I just nodded, like I didn't have the energy to talk.
As my body started to relax, so did my clitty. As it shrunk in size again, Mistress still held the base of the condom. She gently slipped it off my clitty and placed it at the side, carefully folding it so my wetness would not leak out.
“Cheryl, honey? Open that box for me, please,” Mistress said.
“Yes Mistress,” I mumbled. Tired, but remarkably content. I turned on her lap and opened the clasp on the box. It was very nice, dark lacquered wood lined with etched metal. I opened its engraved lid.
My brain didn't quite register what my eyes were seeing. “Take it out, my dear.” Mistress said.
There were several items in the box. I took out the first one. I recognized it as a harness, much like the others I have seen before but far more ornate. Mostly khaki leather with white lace and matching straps that would go around the waist and legs. But what really caught my eye was the huge dildo attached to it. It looked like real ivory, with silver at its base to connect it to the harness. Over its entire length it had an intricate relief. Ribbed for pleasure in the most artful manner possible. The dildo even extended to the inside of the harness, with another head standing upward, though not nearly as big.
“Mistress, I... I do not understand...” I stammered.
“You are a remarkable sissy, my dear. I think it is time I show you how much I have come to appreciate you,” she said.
She looked me in the eyes. Her face showed a gentle smile, her eyes a mocking amusement. But I felt the sternness radiating from her that brooked no resistance. “What? You didn't really think we were done, now did you?”
“No Mistress, of course not...”
“Good. Now get on your feet, sissy. Let's get that plug out of you.”
I got up from her lap, still feeling a bit unsteady on my heels after my climax.
“Bend forward, girl. Good. Now relax.” I felt Mistress move my panties down a bit and took hold of the plug. She started to pull, but despite myself the plug resisted against the force. I yelped as my sphincter was widened forcefully. Then I felt relief. I was no longer filled. For the moment at least.
“Aren't you glad that nasty plug is gone, right girl?” Mistress said as she placed the plug to the side. “Now get on your knees and open the buckles of the harness. Hurry now! Don't you dare to keep me waiting!”
I followed her commands and dropped to my knees. I unbuckled the straps and held it up for her to step into.
“Stupid girl!” she snapped. “How am I supposed to wear that while I am still wearing panties? Can't you see it is double sided? No, spare me your excuses! Just get my panties off, sissy.”
My hands went under her skirt, taking hold of her panties around her pelvis.
“Eyes closed, sissy! No peeking.” She glared at me. I snapped my eyes shut and aimed my face on the floor for good measure. I pulled it down her legs and she stepped out of them.
“Good. Hold out the harness. Now bring it up.” She told me. When it was almost up to her crotch she took hold of the base of the dildo and manoeuvred it into position. I heard her gasp as she slid it home.
“Buckle me up, dear. Oh, you can open your eyes now, silly girl,” she said.
I did, and I saw an ivory serpent grinning at me, only inches from my face. Mistress' skirt was draped around it. I fidgeted with her harness' buckles, trying not to look at the phallus aimed straight at me.
“Yes, that is fine, my dear. Hmmm, let's see what more we have here...” She took the other items from the box, smiling. “Ah, these are nice. Stand up, Cheryl. I have something for you...”
I got to my feet, glad to be no longer looking at Mistress' horrible ivory penis up close. But when I saw what she was holding, I started to whimper.
“Please, Mistress. You do not need that. I'll be good, I promise...” I pleaded.
“Oh hush, silly girl. It will be fun,” she said as she twirled the handcuffs around her index finger. “Now, hold out your hands.”
I felt tears filling my eyes as I held my hands in front of me. These handcuffs were hardly the extensive bondage Miss Margot had put me in, but up till now Mistress had mostly spared me the humiliation of being bound. That had now clearly ended.
With a click she opened both shackles. She took my right hand and placed one of the shackles around my wrist. I snapped shut with a disconcerting finality.
She gave my bound arm a tug and effortlessly twirled me around like some dancing girl. In my turn she grabbed my other hand and pulled both hands over and around. With another 'click' she secured both wrists behind my back.
“There now. You will not need to use our hands,” She whispered from behind in my ear. “You will need this, though. Here, take it.” She held my lollipop in front of me.
I pulled at my shackles behind me. “I... I cannot reach it, Mistress.”
“Well, of course not, stupid girl,” she snapped. “That is the whole idea. But if you want it enough, I'm sure it will come to you. Do you want your lollipop?”
I put up my bravest smile: “Oh yes, Mistress! With my lollipop I would feel so much better, much more girly. May I please have it, Mistress? A sissy simply cannot be without her lollipop.”
“But you have no hands to hold it with. Where would you keep it?” She said from behind with a chuckle. She had moved very close behind me now. Her chin was on my shoulder, I felt the ivory penetrator touch my leg.
“Why Mistress, I would keep it in my mouth. I'm a little sissy, I love having a huge cock in my mouth,” I said grinning, but trying not to weep.
“Do you now?” she said playfully. “Well then, perhaps I should make it a bit more realistic.” She moved my lollipop to the side, where the condom laid.
My heart skipped a beat. “...Mistress?” I could only say.
She wiggled the tip of the dildo into the condom. I could see thick creamy liquid stick to its surface. Then she moved it about, wetting the shaft as well. Her other arm wrapped around me, her left hand resting on my breasts. “There we go,” she whispered in my right ear as she pointed the wet dildo straight at me. “All wet and juicy. Open wide, honey.”
“Mistress!” I wailed “Please don't! I cannot... It's vile! You can't make me do this!” I felt tears stream over my cheeks.
Her left hand shot upwards, grabbing my chin, pulling me back against her, tightly. “I can't?” She replied mockingly. “I can make you do anything I want. I thought you would have learned that by now. Perhaps you need a reminder.” Her thumb and fingers wrapped around my chin, pushing on my cheeks. My head was locked in a vice, unable to turn away as she brought the dildo close to my lips.
I clenched my jaws shut, desperately tugging on handcuffs to free my arms, but they remained locked in place. The cuffs kept my wrists close together and the chain was wedged between my ass and Mistress' hip. All I got for my desperate struggling was some muffled jingling of the chain. Mistress didn't even seem to exert herself keeping me under control. The pressure on my cheeks increased as she attempted to pry my jaws open.
She broke my resistance with the simplest of moves. We were both wearing heels, but where hers were at least somewhat sensible, I felt like I was walking on stilts. I have to mind my balance at the best of times, and right now all my attention was on keeping that horrible dildo away from me. With a mere nudge of her foot Mistress tipped over my stiletto, tripping me. Mistress gave a slight tug as she stepped back, and I felt I was falling with no way to catch myself. I cried a startled yelp.
And then it was over. Mistress pulled me back upright and against her, never even letting go. She still stood behind me, arm wrapped around my chest and hand under my chin, my cuffed hands again pinned in place between us. But my startled cry had given her the opportunity she needed to force my mouth open. My cheeks hurt as she pushed them inward between my molars.
She held the dildo barely an inch from my open mouth, creamy liquid reflecting light on its surface. The sight itself was enough to make me feel nauseated. I tried to plead, beg, anything, but the force on my mouth smothered all words. I tried to push back, away from the dildo, but Mistress held me tight. There was no escape.
“See? And I didn't even have to break a sweat.” Mistress whispered in my ear. “Now, be a good little sissy and take your medicine. All the way.” She slowly slid the dildo into my mouth.
I tried to resist, my body shuddered as every muscle fought back. My wrists started to hurt from the cuffs as I pulled hard on my bonds. But I couldn't prevent the vile dildo penetrating deeper into my mouth, inch by agonizing inch.
As the cream filled my mouth it was the most horrendous experience I could imagine. I started to gag, and I was sure I was about to vomit, but nothing came. Mistress held me tight as I struggled, relentlessly pushing the penetrator further inwards. When most of the shaft had disappeared in my mouth, she let go of my cheeks and put her hand over my mouth to prevent me from spitting out the dildo.
I reared like a wild mare trying to throw of her rider. I heard the furious clicking of my heels as my feet were trying to get me away from Mistress. But she rode me like some expert rodeo cowgirl. With one arm around me to keep me in place, and another covering my mouth to keep the dildo down, she broke me in.
I started to relax as she rode the fight out of me. I wasn't crying anymore, but I was starting to whimper. Mistress consoled me, softly calling me a good girl and a sweet sissy.
“Relax, my dear,” she cooed. “Don't fight it. Enjoy it. Women have been giving head for ages and savoured it. They can't all be wrong now, can they?” But she didn't let go.
I stopped pulling on my handcuffs. A final shiver went down my spine, as to signify that I had been tamed. For a moment, I registered nothing but the taste in my mouth. Truth be told, it wasn't that bad. Mostly sour and a bit salty. I've eaten yoghurt that tasted worse.
It was really the thought of having semen in my mouth that horrified me. Some primal feeling that a man should never suffer to suck someone else's cock.
But that was a stupid feeling. I was no man. I had boobs. I wore a frilly maid's outfit, with matching heels and apron and slutty makeup. My demeanour was ultra-feminine, and utterly unable to resist a woman putting me in chains and forcing a dildo into my mouth. I didn't even have a penis, I had a clitty. I was a sissy.
Mistress interrupted my thoughts. “Sissies just love blowjobs,” she said rather appropriately. “The first time is just a bit scary, that is all.”
She loosened her grip on me, dropping her hand that covered my mouth. I kept the dildo where it was.
“Men do not understand fellatio. They think women do it because it makes them submit to men somehow.” She whispered in my ear.
“But they are so wrong.” she elaborated. “Women like giving blowjobs because it allows them to tease and manipulate a man by simply playing with his cock. Messing with his big head by fooling with his little one, so to speak. Most just lovingly want to excite a man, but it is manipulation nonetheless.”
She gently stroked my hair, kissing me softly in the neck. “Men simply think giving head is humiliating. An affront to their pride. And the curious thing is, sissies feel exactly the same! It is truly the only thing sissies have in common with men.”
She turned my head to her side. She looked into my eyes and said: “But contrary to a man, a sissy just loves being humiliated, doesn't she, Cheryl dear?”
I nodded. I wasn't sure if I actually agreed with her, but somehow she made it sound reasonable.
“And a humiliated sissy is an appetizing sissy,” she said as she pushed me towards the table.
The grabbed the back of my neck and pushed my head down on its surface. “Keep your lollipop in your mouth, or there will be hell to pay.”
I was lying face-down with my torso on the table, hands still tied behind my back. My feet were still on the ground so my bottom was sticking outward vulnerably. Mistress took position behind me, taking out another item from the box.
It was a rectangular piece of tough black leather with two straps and a buckle at its short ends. In the centre of the piece was a crescent shaped metal fitting. She placed the leather item over my mouth, snapping the ridge on the base of my lollipop into the metal holder. Then she buckled the straps at the back of my head, completing my gag.
She didn't have to do that. I would have kept it in. She had already taken the fight out of me. That realisation was perhaps worse than being bound and gagged. Then again, why be content with an obedient sissy if you can tie her up some more?
“Now, I saved you from accidentally spitting out your precious lollipop. Isn't that nice of me? No, do not answer that. A proper sissy does not talk with her mouth full.” She laughed. “Instead, she sucks. And swallows!”
She bent over me. “When I say 'start', you will start working on your little toy like you've been trained. I do not care that you cannot use your hands to hold it, just use your tongue and lips. But I want to hear you enjoy it. By the time I take it out, it is clean. Understand?”
I simply nodded.
“Good. Now that you are nice and quiet, we can get down to business.” She stepped back and picked up the condom, pouring its remaining content out over the tip and shaft of the dildo attached to her harness.
She chuckled. “Say, how did your favourite song go again? Oh, I remember. 'Pretty little sissy, was mincing all about.” She tossed the condom aside.
“Here comes your Mistress, and makes you cry out loud.” She sang mockingly. She stepped behind me, moved the tip of the now wet strapon between my butt-cheeks.
“Out come two dildos, she puts one in your mouth.” She took hold of my hips and braced herself. I tried to relax as I prepared for the inevitable.
“And when you are nice and quiet... Start, Cheryl.”
I slowly moved my tongue around. Gently sucked the shaft.
“She'll put one... Suck harder, sissy! Moan. I want to hear it.” I obeyed.
“... There down...” She pushed on the penetrator. I felt my sphincter widen as the tip slid past. I moaned again, for real this time.
“...South!” Mistress cried triumphantly as she pushed the strapon inside of me.
I yelped as I was impaled. My body shuddered as Mistress pushed it in deeper and deeper. I pulled on my bonds again, but they obviously didn't budge. I wanted to cry and plead and beg, but the gag muffled me. I felt like the strapon couldn't possibly go any deeper, but Mistress kept pushing.
Then she stopped. Mistress' thighs were touching my ass. I didn't know how, but she had pushed the huge phallus all the way in. It didn't really hurt, but I was acutely aware of the pressure inside of me.
She slowly withdrew herself out of me, slowly. I felt the sculpted relief of the dildo as it tickled my sphincter. Ribbed for my pleasure, so to speak. I drew a relieved sigh as she pulled it out all the way to the tip. Then she entered me again.
“Well, that feels smooth. Perhaps I should use cum every time I lube your sissy-hole, wouldn't you agree?” Mistress said as she pushed it in deep. I felt the tip of the strapon probe my insides. She grabbed the back of my head, tugging my hair. “Moan if you agree, sissy!” she snapped. I moaned.
She kept moving the dildo in and out of me, every time probing the tip somewhere else, until she found what she was looking for.
I gasped, shivered. She had pushed it somewhere into my insides just above my sissy clitty. It felt very uncomfortable, a bit painful even, but also somehow electrifying. I moaned again, a very real one.
“Ah, there you are,” Mistress said cheerfully. She withdrew, and pushed in again, probing me at the same spot. I involuntarily pulled on my chains, legs turning into jelly. I felt like someone had given me an expert handjob, in a fraction of a second! From the inside!
This was so wrong. Men have their erogenous zone on their penis! Yet somehow Mistress had sent me into the stratosphere from behind. I didn't understand. Perhaps sissies really are an altogether different gender...
“Time to make you squeal, dear,” Mistress said as she tightened the buckle of my gag. Then she got to work. Slowly at first, then faster and faster. And she made me squeal.
I lost all sense of time and space. I do not know how often she penetrated me. One nuclear explosion in my nether region after another. She was also creative. One moment she pulled my hair, the next she pinched my earlobe, then slapped my bottom. It was painful, but it was what Miss Margot would have called 'good pain'.
Mistress was playing my body like an instrument, and I squealed and moaned and cried to her tune. My legs kicked prettily, my chain jingled to the rhythm of the beat. My pleas for her to stop turbofucking me or letting me come were muffled by my gag. Sounds mixed with the music playing in the room, which I recognized as Madonna's soft and sensual 'Human Nature'.
Obviously, I had become very hard. But I couldn't come. Every time I thought I was about to climax, she reached for my clitty and gave it a wicked pinch. It shrank instantly. Denied. Rejected. It was clear to whom it belonged.
But my tormentor was in outer space too. She was clearly enjoying her end of the strapon. I had heard her orgasm several times, catching her breath before continuing.
Just as I thought I could no longer take this combination of bliss, frustration, pain and pleasure, she let me come.
It wasn't much. Mistress had already milked me good and I only produced a wet spot on the table. But my brain was high on bliss and relief. I was still bound and gagged, wearing a ridiculous sissy-maid outfit. I had been manhandled and humiliated in more ways than I thought possible, but at that instant I was in heaven.
And I felt loved! I felt the love Mistress radiated as she caressed my hair and kissed me on the nape of my neck. It was a vicious kind of love, for sure. She had gone all-out and didn't spare me one bit. But god help me I loved her for it.
I knew this feeling wouldn't last. Soon the feelings of humiliation and submission would return. That horrible realization that I was a sissy. A maid in Mistress' household. That I lived on my knees under someone else's boot heel, sometimes quite literally. But I also understood that I would willingly suffer any indignity for this one fleeting moment of love I shared with her.
I felt Mistress unshackle my handcuffs, then unbuckled my gag. She disconnected the base of the gag from my lollipop and put it away, but placed her hand over my mouth to signal I had to keep the dildo in my mouth.
“Up now, girl,” she said as she pulled me upright by the shoulders. Her strapon was still inside of me, so I moved carefully.
“Good. Listen, Cheryl. I'm going to step back slowly. Match my movement. Do not let the strapon slide out, understand?”
I nodded and the made one pace backwards. So did I. It was more difficult than you might think, as I was still quite unsteady on my high heels from Mistress' fucking my brains out. The strapon in my bottom didn't help either. But she held my hands as she stabilized and guided me.
“All right, Cheryl. I need you to relax. This may be a bit... Uncomfortable,” she said as she grabbed my arms tight.
I was in for quite a shock. She pulled me back as she sat down on her chair behind her, causing me to lose balance.
I practically fell onto her lap and could feel myself getting impaled on her strapon. I yelped in dismay, which almost caused me to spit out my lollipop. I tried to stand up immediately when my feet found traction, but Mistress held my arms tight and pulled me against her.
“Easy, girl. Relax,” she said. “It will only hurt if you struggle. Cheryl, behave! Keep still! That is better.... Now, can I let go of your arms? Good.”
She shuffled a bit on her seat and moved me on her lap, while I was feeling like sitting on the sharp end of a sword. My feet were on the ground, but my weight still rested fully on my behind.
Mistress brought my hands up to my lollipop. “Here Cheryl, take hold of it, but keep it in your mouth. Good girl.”
She spoke with a pleased but authoritarian voice. “You were very good, Cheryl. Very good indeed.” I think I blushed at the compliment.
“However, I had to do all the work. Hardly fair, don't you think? So I want you to do something. Stand up for me. Yes, go ahead.”
I did what was asked. I transferred my weight to my heels and straightened my legs. Mistress held me at my waist, and pulled on it when the tip of the penetrator was about to pass my anus. “That is far enough, Cheryl.”
She pulled the back of my panties down a bit further. “Good. Now sit down again. Keep the weight on your feet.... Hold it there,” I heard her say. I was now standing with my knees bent, my ass just above Mistress' lap, holding my lollipop with both hands. I must have been quite a sight.
“Now listen carefully, Girl. I want you to keep moving, just like that. No wait...”
I hear her chuckle as she spoke. “Actually, I want you to fuck yourself, Cheryl. I want you to fuck yourself hard. And suck that cock like your life depends on it. And smile, my little starlet. Show the camera what an eager little sissy you are.”
I had forgotten about that darn camera. Another video that would haunt me forever. I could already picture Brigitt's delight at making me watch it again and again as she sat me on her lap to fondle me...
Mistress brought me back to the present: “Got that, sissy? You will continue until you've come, but you must come like a sissy. So no touching your little clitty. And you must sit down at least as far as you are now. Get you properly filled up. It would be cheating otherwise. Understood?”
I had to fuck myself... Yes, I understood perfectly. I nodded.
“Do not forget to smile, sissy.” She smirked. “Begin.”
And I did. I smiled as I fucked myself on her strapon. Smiled as I sucked my lollipop which still had some of my own cum on it.
I was reluctant, obviously. I felt like I was making a fool of myself. I tried to 'cheat', as she called it. She punished me by pulling me back hard or slapping my bottom.
But reluctance quickly passed. I had found the same spot she had been probing just before...
I started to move faster. Sat down deeper. I truly was fucking myself.
“Oh my, looks like our little slut is getting horny,” she mocked. But I could hear from her breathing that the increase in pace was quite enjoyable at her end too.
As electricity spread from my nether regions, all sense of shame disappeared again. I sucked my lollipop like I was a calf at a teat. I moved my lips from base to tip and back. Tongue tickled the underside. It tasted foul, but I didn't care. And I smiled at the camera as I swallowed. Brigitt would just love this part.
I moved up and down, up and down. My legs started to hurt, my bottom was sore. I hadn't quite recovered from Madame Directrice's punishment yet. But I didn't care as I worked myself to a climax. I felt my hard clitty brush against the silk of my skirt and petticoat.
Mistress held my waist as I orgasmed, stabilizing me as my feet almost gave in.
I didn't have much left to fire, but I felt my petticoat get moist.
She let me regain my composure and sigh deeply before she spoke. “Stand up, Cheryl. Yes, all the way. You can take it out.” I sighed again as the tip slid out of me, suddenly realizing how sore my ass was.
She got up as well. “Unbuckle me, girl.”
I got on my knees, legs still painful. My fingers fidgeted with her straps.
She took hold on my chin, moving my face upwards.
“Let see how you've done,” Mistress said as she took hold of my lollipop and took it from my mouth.
She held it up and turned it around. “Well done, my dear. Not a drop left. I guess you really liked it, didn't you? I told you you would. Perhaps we have to upgrade you to the real thing soon.”
I swallowed hard, heart skipping a beat, at what she was implying, but kept my mouth shut, focusing on the last buckle of her harness.
She let the harness drop to the ground. She straightened her own outfit, which by now had become quite ruffled, and pulled up her panties.
“Fix yourself, girl.” She admonished me. “You look like a mess. That will just not do. The appearance of a servant reflects on the mistress of the house, you know?”
Whatever I was just a minute ago, it had passed. I was a maid again. I made a proper curtsy.
“My apologies, Mistress.” I pulled my own panties straight, and fixed my dress. “Please, may I be excused? So that I can freshen up?”
“No, you may not.” She said sternly. “First you will clean up this room. There are still plates everywhere. And you made quite a mess of things yourself I might add, you naughty girl.”
I blushed as I curtsied again. “I am sorry, Mistress. I will fix it right away.”
“See that you do. You can clean yourself up afterwards. Take your time. I will not be needing you for the rest of the day. My daughters and I are going out this evening. You may save some of this food for yourself, if you want. You know how to operate a microwave, don't you?”
“Yes Mistress. Thank you, Mistress. That would be lovely.”
“Good. Get on with it then. And do not bother me until I call for you, understand?”
“Yes Mistress,” I said disheartened as I curtsied. I was about to turn away to start my chores as she grabbed me by my neck and pulled my face towards hers. She forcefully kissed me on the lips, her tongue forcing itself in my mouth.
I stood dumbfounded when she withdrew herself. “My dear Cheryl,” she said lovingly, eyes beaming. “My precious little sissy...”
She gave me a pinch in my earlobe. “Clean your toys and put them back in the box. You can leave them by the door.” She turned around and walked towards the exit, not giving me a second glance. I must have stood there for some time, quite overwhelmed. But I felt light-hearted. Content. Loved.
I turned towards my chores. I hummed a catchy tune as I got to work.
“Pretty little sissy...”
* * * * * *
Cleaning up took some time, especially since I had to remove a nasty stain from the carpet and cleanse a particularly soiled strap-on. I really disliked handling it, but I made sure it was clean as a whistle. After all, who knew where it might end up next time...
Still, I was in an excellent mood. Sure, first Mistress and her daughters had humiliated me to tears. Next she had forced a cum dripping dildo in my mouth. And THEN she simply took me... But she had given me something wonderful in return, too. I focused my mind on that last part.
I had just finished cleaning myself. Since Martina and Ingrid had spent so much time and effort on me, I had forgone taking a shower and mostly just straightened my outfit, cleaning only the obvious places. I had replaced my soiled petticoats and panties (crotchless of course, Martina wasn't kidding when she said she had bought me loads of them). Hair took the most time, it had come undone in several places, but nothing that a few pins and a liberal amount of lacquer couldn't fix. Naturally, I touched up on my makeup. Especially the lipstick.
Adding the obligatory butt-plug was uncomfortable, of course. Humiliating too. But it had to be done. And I managed.
I gave myself a quick final check in my mirror. Hair flawless? Check. Stockings straight? Check. Breasts perky? Check. Maid's cap pinned in place? Check. Eye-liner, rouge, lipstick. Check, check, check.
I looked at the girl in the mirror. She looked... pretty hot! Standing there in her maid's outfit, daintily on her cute heels, holding her arms to her sides, wrists limp. She bent one knee, and pulled up her leg so one shoe moved seductively up her stocking clad leg. I saw her place her foot back on the ground, legs straight, and with both ankles against one another she bent forwards, giving me a nice view of her décolletée. I watched her lick her lips and blow me a sweet little kiss. She twirled around in the mirror, her skirt flaring up. I caught a glimpse of her panties, her sissy-clitty peeking out its front.
I grabbed the back of a chair, steadying myself. What on earth was I doing? That was not some cute girl I saw. That was a sissy. That was me! I looked down to my outfit. What had looked so hot on the girl in the mirror, seemed so ridiculous on me. Its fabric encased me like a silk prison.
Yup, definitely me...
Well, I did just have the best fuck in my life while wearing this outfit. So it wasn't all bad. I put my chin up and looked at the sissy in the mirror.
“You look great, honey,” I told her. She winked back at me.
I stepped out of my room and turned towards the east wing of the mansion. With everything that had happened the last couple of days, I still hadn't done the laundry.
My steps were short, feminine. I felt how my heels imprisoned my feet, forcing me into a hopelessly girly gait. But something was different. It was like it was a very comfortable prison, with soft pillows and silk sheets...
I put some extra effort in it. I felt the plug inside of me as my bottom moved with a seductive sway. I silently hoped I would catch a glimpse of Mistress. Actually, I was hoping she'd catch a glimpse of me. I smiled dreamily as I minced. Nothing was going to ruin this day from me.
“Why, hello there, sissy. My, aren't you cheerful today.”
…Except for that. I bobbed Miss Ingrid a prim curtsy as she rounded the corner.
“Hello, Miss Ingrid.” I tried to sound light-hearted, but her smile was disquieting.
“You sure you want to go that way, Cheryl?” She said grinning. “You'll walk right past Esther's office. And boy, is she pissed today. I bet she is still sore about Mutter rebuking her for that harmless bit of spanking she gave you.”
I winced. I wasn't harmless on my end.
“You wouldn't want her to catch you alone, now would you?” Her smile was from ear to ear. “Who knows what a mean lady could do to a weak little sissy like you.”
I unconsciously backed away as she walked up to me, but was blocked by the wall.
She casually put her hand against the wall next to me, at the side of the closest doorway. Her grinning face was hardly a foot removed from my own. “Like, right here, right now...”
Her heels weren't nearly as high as mine, and yet she seemed to tower over me. Was she really this big? Was I really that small?
“So why would you be going that way, girl?” She smiled wickedly.
My heart was pounding in my chest. I stammered a reply: “..I was... laundry room...er... going there... have some dirty clothes...”
She barked a laugh. “I bet you have! Why, I'm positive that they are quite nasty after that little performance you gave Mutter. Oh, don't look so shocked. We could hear down the hall! You are quite the screamer, my dear. I was glad Mutter had gagged you. We really should do that more often, by the way. You are way too talkative for a maid.”
I opened my mouth, and closed it again. This was definitely a very bad moment to speak up. I simply averted my eyes.
Ingrid chuckled, amused but somewhat disappointed I didn't take her bait. “Well, I'll be sure to keep one close. No doubt I'll have to put one on you soon enough.”
I felt my face burn.
“That is a nice blush,” she finally said, tauntingly. “Feeling ashamed? But you look so pretty when you blush. Perhaps I should shame you more often.”
She stepped back. “But that will have to wait. I wouldn't want to keep you away from your soiled panties, now would I?”
She grinned, but her eyes gave me a stern look. “Well, what are waiting for girl? Hurry up, now. Move that cute little butt. And watch out for mean and nasty Esther. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble.”
“Yes Miss Ingrid,” I said as I made a quick curtsy, glad to get away from her. “Thank you.”
“Cheryl, before you go... Sing me 'Pretty little sissy'.” She said with a wicked grin.
Oh no, not again, I thought. But I managed to force a smile on my face. I merrily began to sing. There wasn't much room in the hallway, but I still minced around to the rhythm of the tune, heels clicking. I struck my pose as I finished before her. Her smile was from ear to ear.
“'There down south' indeed,” she mocked. “Several times, if I recall. And your lollipop had cream filling, didn't it? I'm sure you loved that, gobbled it all up, you little slut. Why, there is still a spot on your cheek!”
I gasped in dismay. My hands shot up to my face.
“I'm joking, girl,” she started laughing. “Oh, you are so lovely when you blush. I could just eat you up. You better get moving before I do.”
“Yes Miss, thank you Miss,” I said hurriedly as I bobbed and got out of there, mincing as fast as could while still walking somewhat properly. The ruffling of my skirt and petticoats seemed to resound in the hallway. I could still hear Ingrid snicker as I turned a corner.
When I was sure I was alone, I leaned back against the wall, catching my breath.
I tried to order my thoughts. Mistress had taken a definite shine to me. That was good. Well, mostly at least. But Ingrid had as well, it seemed. That was bad. Definitely bad. Madam Directrice once mentioned that Ingrid just liked to tease sissies, but probably wasn't interested in them. 'Probably' wasn't all that reassuring anymore. I didn't think I could handle another woman's cruel advances.
I thought of everyone who had taken a keen interest in me. Martina treated me as her baby sister, so aside from dressing me up and bossing me around she wasn't all that bad. But then there was Brigitt. I had seen the hunger she had in her eyes just a few hours ago. She would be coming for me, for sure. And then there was Miss Margot...
I thought about her 'penalty box'. Would she have added more wicked furniture? Or have ordered more of those 'custom specialty' outfits? If what Madam Directrice had said was true, sooner or later they would take me there again. I shuddered at the thought.
Speaking of which, I suddenly realized where I was, near the door of Madame Directrice's office. I thought about her and what miss Ingrid had just said. About her being angry with me. This was just too much...
With lovers like the ones I had, I really couldn't deal with an enemy. Especially someone like Madame Directrice. But her interest in me was mostly business. She was mostly business. Cool and detached. If I would apologize, then perhaps she would just leave me be.
I straightened my posture. Disregarding my doubts and fears I walked up to her door. I thought about what I should say, but it all sounded hardly sufficient. Nevertheless, I balled my fist as I stood in front of her door and after one last moment of doubt, I knocked on her door.
“Yes?” She sounded annoyed.
“It is Cheryl, Madame Directrice. May I enter, please?” I tried not to let my voice tremble.
There was a moment of silence. “Come in,” she finally said.
I walked in and took my place before Madame Directrice's desk. I made a proper curtsy and waited for her to acknowledge my presence.
She was working on her laptop again, and occasionally read and signed papers that were spread either spread around her desk or organized into neat stacks. Her attention shifted form one item to the next, without ever looking up to me.
She picked up a paper, crossed a few lines, added some words in the margins, then put it on one stack that I assumed was the 'outgoing' pile.
“What is it, Cheryl? I'm very busy right now.” She said without looking up.
I was treading on very thin ice here. I silently rehearsed what I wanted to say, but this was starting to look as a very bad idea.
“I'm sorry, Madam Directrice. But I very much wanted to speak to you.” I replied, trying not to sound nervous.
“Do you now?” She looked up. “How do you feel?”
I hadn't quite expected that question. “Er... Well... I feel fine, Madam Directrice. Thank you for asking!” I put on an air-headed but blissful expression “I'm happy to say that I will be able to fulfil my obligations here with the enthusiasm Mistress expects of me and I'm sure...”
“You can save the 'pretty little sissy' routine for the others. I'm really not in the mood for it right now.” I heard a loud 'tap' as she threw her glasses on her desk, clearly annoyed. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just answer the question, girl. Truthfully.”
“I... er... My bottom is still a bit sore, Madame Directrice.” I answered reluctantly. “And I'm a bit unsteady on my heels, but that could also be from today's... events. Otherwise I'm fine. Really. Mistress and her daughters have been...” I was searching for the right word. “...Easy... on me.” Today has been one humiliation after the other, for sure, but at least my outfit was reasonably comfortable and no-one had spanked the tar out of me... so far...
“Have they now?” She said with an annoyed face. She got up from her chair and walked around the desk. “Are you saying I've been hard on you?”
“No, Madame Directrice! I mean... Yes... I mean, oh...” How could I speak truthfully without offending her?
I just sighed and answered, softly. “...Yes, Madame Directrice...”
She gave a curt chuckle. “I darn well hope so. Even my arm hurt afterwards.”
“Er... I am sorry, Madame Directrice,” I could only reply.
I think I saw her roll her eyes at my reply. She walked over to the table with her water bottle. “You have something to say, Cheryl. Out with it.”
I licked my lips nervously. I heard a tremor in my voice. “I was told Mistress rebuked you for disciplining me so severely.”
She glanced sideways at me while she poured water in a glass. I was careful not to look at her directly, but I could still see the surprised expression on her face, one eyebrow raised.
“What of it?” She said as she turned towards me. She was now observing me with mild interest. Any sign of anger or annoyance gone.
“I understand it was necessary to discipline me. I would have told Mistress that, but I was asleep and...”
“Oh gosh, thanks! Nice to know a pathetic little sissy is willing to protect me. I feel so relieved!” She said mockingly. “Anything else?” She took a big swig of water.
I nervously rubbed my hands, suddenly feeling cold. “I... I just don't want you to think of me as an enemy, Madame Directrice.”
I heard a loud gulp, then a gasp, then coughing. Madame Directrice had choked on her drink.
“You... ahem... You what?!” she snapped out loud, still coughing.
I winced. “I'm not your enemy! You have to believe me! I try to be good, but it is hard. I really didn't mean to cause insult to you and...” I started to plead.
She put her glass down and walked over to her desk. “So, you are not my enemy? Did I understand that correctly?” She said as she turned her back on me. She picked up the crop that lay on her desk.
“No, Madame Directrice. I... I hope you will not... er... be angry...” I stammered.
Her head snapped around in my direction, eyes like daggers into mine. She turned the rest of her body around. She hid her mouth behind a fist, as in deep thought, but kept her eyes on me. She held her right arm across her chest, the twirling the crop around in her fingers.
“Not my enemy?” She muttered behind her fist as she made two paces in my direction. Her face was barely a foot removed from mine. I looked to my shoes, nervously trying to avoid her gaze. She stood there for what felt like an eternity.
Then I hear her snicker, then chuckle. She dropped her fist and all pretence, revealing her suppressed smile as she started to laugh, wholeheartedly.
She stepped back, leaning against her desk, as her body shuddered as she laughed out loud, bringing tears to her eyes. Her laugh was so infectious even I couldn't suppress a nervous chuckle.
“Why settle for enemy? How about a nemesis? Better yet, why not be my eternal archfiend?” She kept laughing as she talked, grabbing the side of the desk to prevent her from doubling over.
She wiped the tears from her eyes, trying to regain some resemblance of her stern composure, but couldn't stop chuckling. She looked at me with a eyes filled with mirth and a smile that seemed to reach her ears as she cleared her throat.
“Oh my, Cheryl, you certainly know how to brighten my day!” She reached out and gave me a soft pinch in my cheek. It was a friendly but rather demeaning gesture.
She leaned back lazily against the desk. She just observed me for a short while, a patronizing smile on her face. Then she simply said: “Cheryl, dear, it is completely impossible for you to be my enemy!”
I opened my mouth in utter bafflement. “Madame Directrice?” was the best I could say.
“Look, an enemy is by definition someone who has the mind and means to wilfully obstruct me in the fulfilment of my objectives. You have none of those,” she snickered.
I didn't know what to say. I just stood there, probably looking very confused.
She held her arms just as a moment before, but now rested her chin on her fist. It gave her the appearance of a schoolteacher trying to teach a very slow pupil a funny lesson.
“Cheryl, there is nothing you can do to even inconvenience me. What would you do? Throw a tantrum, stamp around in your cute little dress and heels? Please do. I bet Christina would find it quite adorable. And Brigitt and Ingrid, well... you'd spend the rest of the day trying out dresses, bonnets, heels and ribbons to find the perfect ones to match that sulk. Perhaps even teach you another cute rhyme.”
She continued with a smirk. “And what would your little hissy-fit be about anyway? Butt-plug too big? Don't want nasty mean strangers seeing you mincing around in your little pink dress? Miss Margot been mean to you again? Hardly issues I concern myself with.”
Her smile disappeared. “Or would it be because you don't like the way we treat you? Being humiliated, teased and controlled? But that cannot be it, now can it?”
I was at a loss for words.
Madame Directrice gave me stern look: “Like I said before, it is who you are, what you really want to be. Your reluctance is very persistent, but only skin-deep. In fact, it is your most endearing quality. Like it or not, your goals in life are parallel to mine.”
She paused long enough to let that sink in. “So no, you are not my enemy. That cute little head of yours has not a single thought that opposes me. And we have you completely tied up, metaphorically speaking, though a literal interpretation is certainly possible. So there is nothing you could ever do if you had.”
“But Daniëlle... I mean... the marriage...” She cut me off with a gesture.
“Listen Cheryl, if I were to... say...” she tilted her head in thought, then just shrugged. “...Run the marathon. And I was the prime contender for the gold medal...”
I nodded, not knowing where this would lead.
“Then the next best contender might decide I am too much of a risk. He might break into this room, drop a bunch of marbles. Then when I enter, I slip on one of them and break my leg. That is an enemy.”
Again I nodded. But it stung that I was being talked down to like I was a toddler.
“Imagine however, a little girl entering my room to play with her bag of marbles, even though I explicitly told her not to. She leaves the room before I leave, not wanting to get caught. But oh dear, a marble is left behind, and I slip and break my leg. The end result is exactly the same. And it is clearly the little girl's fault. But is she my enemy?”
I began to see where this was going. “No, Madame Directrice.”
“No. It also means that I was lax. Obviously the little brat needed a good spanking to drive the lesson home.” She reached out and raised my chin, forcing me to look her in the eyes. “And she has. And more will likely follow. But she is not an enemy.”
She let go. “What happened with Daniëlle is very unfortunate. Time will tell if it is catastrophic. But it is caused not by ill will, just poor choices on your part. We also seriously underestimated Daniëlle's feelings and yours, and I didn't anticipate you actually being resourceful in certain situations. I will not make that mistake again, by the way.”
“You're quite the troublemaker. But you don't have to worry I hold some sort of grudge,” she said in an amused tone.
“But... but then why did you keep glaring at me?” I blurted out “I thought Mistress' reprimand had made you angry!”
“Angry? You silly girl!” she snickered. “If anything, I was pleasantly surprised. She wouldn't do that unless she took a particular liking to you. I was hoping as much, but that confirmed it. Took a load off of my shoulders.”
Her gaze grew stern again. “Nevertheless, I was keeping my eye on you. I still am. But if that unsettles you, I'll just be a bit more discreet about it.”
She tapped her index finger below her right eye, then pointed it straight at me. “But believe me, I will know what you'll be up to. I have my ways. And I know you haven't forgotten my little speech about keeping secrets from me.”
She could have been bluffing. I couldn't imagine how she was planning to keep tabs on me, but I was certainly not going to risk it.
“And if I think it is necessary, I'll give you a spanking that will make the last one seem positively mild. Do not think just because your Mistress rebuked me after the fact, I wouldn't do it again if I felt necessary. You have an important task to perform, and I will not allow you to fail. I will watch you like a hawk.”
She started to smile again. “But not because you are some sort of enemy mastermind I need to check-mate in a game of wits obviously, but because you are just one of those girls who tend to get herself into trouble.” Her grin was from ear to ear.
I blushed at the humiliating remark. “Yes, Madame Directrice. I understand.”
“Good. Be off then. As amusing your little visit has been, I really do need to finish my work. And I'm sure you have some chores to finish.” With a gesture of her hand, she sent me away.
“Yes Madame Directrice.” I curtsied and turned for the door.
“Oh and Cheryl, be here tomorrow at two o'clock, sharp. We need to handle some... formalities. Is that all right with you?”
“Yes, Madame Directrice. That is fine.”
“You sure? I don't want you to be inconvenienced or anything. Wouldn't want to make an enemy out of you!” She said with a amused smirk.
I tuned red as a beet. I curtsied again and tried to say 'Yes, Madame Directrice' with a modicum of dignity, but failed miserably.
“Out you go then, my sissy-archenemy! My Lex Luthor with big hair and heels! Time to your get your cute butt to your next evil scheme involving panties!” she said laughing, which continued after I had closed the door.
Finally outside, I realized I should have been relieved. I was so afraid that Madame Directrice was angry with me after Mistress' reprimand. That was clearly not the case.
Instead, I was told I wasn't even significant enough to be angry with. More like a dumb child that has to be told that her punishment is for her own good. I felt thoroughly humiliated. Again.
I returned to my chores, my face still red.
“Oh my, is sissy feeling ashamed again? How adorable!” Miss Ingrid said as she caught sight of my shamefaced blush, before hounding me for the rest of the afternoon.