Custom Maid

CUSTOM MAID

By Bea

 

I woke up.  Where the hell was I?  A blonde bombshell in what looked like a Dior skirt suit and immaculate hair was  sitting behind a large desk across from me and looking at me impatiently. “Well?” she snapped.  “It’s about time!”

“Eh, Hmm, Er?” I fumbled.”   I was obviously in a meeting.  Had I fallen asleep?

“Not very articulate, is he? “ A brunette, with a similar sheen of well groomed command spoke from my left.  She looked somewhat familiar.

“Well, one must make allowances, considering?” the blonde said calmly.

“For what?  Idiocy?” the brunette snapped.

“Hey!” I said thickly.  “What’s going ON here?”  Turned to the brunette.  “I’m a little confused. But don’t be calling me an idiot!”

 She looked amazed! Stared across the desk at the blonde. “You said they were submissive!”  She sounded aggrieved.

“But you said – on your form” the blonde looked through a folder on her desk until she found something. “That, quote, you didn’t want some swishy Nancy boy.  Got that here in black in white!” She stared coldly at the brunette. “Now I know that ‘Nancy boy’ is a Brit term – but doesn’t what you entered mean that you don’t want someone TOO submissive?  And?  If I’m not mistaken?  Didn’t you indicate that you wish to ‘train your sissy’ yourself?  I can look it up on your Requirements Description form if you don’t remember.”

The brunette looked decidedly unhappy.  Pursed her lips.  “I guess so,” she said primly  The blonde nodded, having made her point.

I was only too happy to see these women at loggerheads as it took away some of the discomfort I was feeling.  Nevertheless, I had to react to what I was hearing – were these two stupid bimbos talking about ME?  “Hey!” I said indignantly.  “What in hell’s name are you two broads going on about?”  With that, I got up out of my chair and headed for the door.  This was a mistake.

“Tony, sweetie?” the blonde cooed.  “Before you leave?  Why don’t you have a look at the TV screen over there on the wall, huh?”

“Yeah, “ the brunette laughed. “Might save you a great deal of painful embarrassment.”

They were both smiling at each other now, having joined forces against me.  On top of that, they were both projecting a sort of pleased anticipation – you know, the kind of expression you wear when someone you don’t like is about to get a comeuppance.  Suddenly dry mouthed for some reason, I shrugged and paused.  Turned my eyes to the TV screen that was flickering to life.

“That door you see sweetie?” the blonde explained.  “That’s the other side of the one you’re heading for right now – and see that light flashing?  That’s letting that rather stocky woman know that you are on your way out, without permission.  You open that door?  She’ll bring you back in – forcibly.  She’ll then discipline you so that- trust me – you won’t want to even think about deserting us again, until we allow you to do so.  Now why don’t you sit down again, like a nice little boy and let us ladies talk in peace?”

The TV now showed a rather heavily muscled lady looking up into the camera.  A broad, Slavic, face.  Dark short hair with formidable eyebrows. Her head was resting on one hand showing a muscled forearm – wearing a broad-banded man’s black leather watch.  I couldn’t see what she wore below her waist, but I found myself staring at the muscular structure under a plain white tank top.  Not a weightlifter build, but pretty damn close.  I stopped in my tracks.  “This is kidnapping!  Plain and simple!  Think you can get away with this?” I stormed, although my voice wasn’t overly convincing now.

“Didn’t you ask him to sit down – and nicely too?” The brunette said to the blonde, and I got a distinct impression of an English accent as she spoke.  “Why don’t you tell him again?  Maybe not so nicely this time?”

“Yes.  But now’s as good a time as any, I guess,” the blonde said getting up out of her chair and coming around the desk towards me.  There was nothing menacing in her walk or posture, but I suddenly wanted to do nothing more but back away from her and sit down.  She stopped about four feet away from me.  Smiled pleasantly.

She was an attractive woman, no doubt about it. Makeup not too obtrusive, a creamy satin blouse under a rather severe dark jacket.  Good figure.  Maybe an inch or so smaller then me.  I caught a whiff of a discreetly applied perfume – Nina Riche I think. The gleam of small gold hoop earrings peeking out from well coiffed hair.  What I’m trying to describe? A very attractive, feminine, woman.  Not physically imposing by any means.  Petite, if anything.

 “Would you like to leave us, Tony darling?” she cooed softly, holding both hand up with the palms facing me.

“Yes!  Of course I would!” I answered firmly.

“It’s simple, really.  All you have to do is put your hands against mine – and push me back to the door.  I’ll open it then and tell Norma – that’s the lady outside – that it’s okay for you to leave.  Easy!”

“It’s a trick!” I said suspiciously.  “You’ve got something up your sleeve!”

“No it’s not dear.  But this will be the only chance you’ll get to leave for a while.  So either go back and sit down, like the nice little boy I know you can be?  Or try to push me back to the door!”

“You promise it’s not some kind of trick?”

“I promise.”

 I took a deep breath, stood in front of her – very conscious suddenly of her mocking eyes, put my hands up against hers – and pushed.  It was like pushing against a brick wall.  I stared at her in amazement.  Pushed again.  Same result, with one exception – this time she simply pushed back!  And I retreated.  I dropped my arms.  “You had me drugged!  Back there in the Interview room!”

She nodded agreeably.  “Yes, a simple sleeping draught – nothing exotic.”

“Well, you did something!” I complained.

“Yes, I’ve taken martial arts that allow me to focus my weight – but a normal male would be able to move me with only a little exertion. You my dear, are NOT a normal male.  Our examination revealed that you’re  . .” she smiled at the Englishwoman.  “What is it you Brits call them?”

“Poofs?”

“That’s it!” the blonde said sympathetically then turned back to me. “You’re a sweet little weak poof, Tony.  Scared of any woman with confidence.  Now?  My name is Joan.  I want you to tell me you’re sorry – but call me Miss Joan, if you don’t mind?”

“This isn’t fair!” I expostulated, then saw the look in her eyes. “Well, it isn’t really!” adding quickly.  “ I’m sorry, Miss Joan.”

Cringed as I heard the brunette laugh.  “This is starting to be fun!” she giggled.  “Can I try, Joan?”

The blonde shrugged.  “I’m pretty sure it’ll be okay.  But on your own head be it.  He beats you here, you’ll have to get another candidate.  Tony’ll lose respect for you.  It’ll mean another processing charge, finders fee, the whole bit.”

The brunette smiled confidently. “Oh, I’ve tussled with little poofs when I was a girl – they’re so weak and soft!  Matter of fact?  I think that’s where I got my original taste for the little darlings.”  She turned her attention to me. “Why don’t you come and sit on my knees darling? You may call me Mistress.”

“Please?” I said weakly, knowing even then that I was defeated, but standing my ground.

“Please what my little sweetheart?” she cooed, grinning at Joan.

“Please don’t?”

“Please don’t WHAT?” she said, firmly now.

“Please don’t, Mistress?” I capitulated.

 She stood up and came towards me, holding her hand out towards me. Like Joan, she was attractive and well groomed.  Not in the slightest threatening – as a matter of fact, in her yellow skirt suit, she actually looked even more decorative and feminine than Joan.  Gold bracelets, necklace and earring testified obviously that she was anything but poor – as did the perfectly manicured hand she held out towards me. I put my hand in hers.

 “My, what  a pretty soft hand!” she said, starting to pull me to her chair.

Couldn’t help it.  “Thank you, “ I said.  Trying to resist, just a little bit.

“Thank you, what?”

“Thank you, mistress,” I said.  Digging my heels into the carpet a little.

“Come along now! Behave!” she said exerting just a little bit more strength. Again, I capitulated. A few seconds later I was ensconced on her lap.

She reached down and picked up her handbag that had been sitting on the floor beside her chair.  “Here sweetheart.  Why don’t you hold this for mistress?”

“Okay,” I said meekly.

“Antoinette? If I have to remind you one more time?  I’ll put you over my knees! Answer me properly!”

“Yes Mistress. I’m sorry – Mistress.”

“Good girl!  Oh, I’m sorry.  What do you prefer that I refer to you as?  Girl?  Poof, or Sissy?”

I knew better than to delay.  “Sissy, Mistress.”

“And you don’t mind me calling you Antoinette – for the time being? We can discuss another pretty name for you later.  Is that all right?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Good girl!  Now here’s what I want you to do. Open up your handbag and take out the lipstick and compact you find in there.

I did as I was told.

“Good girl! Now open the compact then put on a little lipstick, then after that, powder your nose a little.  Okay?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“You’re quite good at this, “ Joan said to Mistress admiringly as I opened up the compact, took the top off the lipstick tube then daintily applied a little lipstick and, after putting the lipstick back in the purse, getting some powder on the applicator, dabbed at my nose, using the compact mirror assiduously.

“Yes, I guess I am,” Mistress said complacently. “You just have to know how to talk to the little darlings. Now Antoinette?  Put your compact back into your handbag, then sit quietly like a good little sissy as we ladies talk.  Just keep your handbag on your knees as we do so.”

Naturally, I did as I was told, then her hand came onto my shoulder and pulled me back more so that I was lying more comfortably on her body, my head nestled on her shoulder.  She patted my thigh in obvious approval.

“So, by the looks of it, you’ll approve little Tony? Or should I call him Antoinette?” Joan asked cheerfully. “After we’ve agreed to his configuration modifications?”

“Oh yes.  He’s a little darling. Just has enough spunk to make me think his conversion will be fun,” Mistress said, while I wondered nervously what the hell they were talking about.

“Good!  Let’s start from the feet up,”  Joan said. “You specified a Ladies size six shoe.  I’m afraid he’s a seven and a half.  Does it matter that much?  It’s kinda expensive to do the feet – and the poor dears do need quite a lot of rehabilitation after the operation.  Not only that?  It makes them much slower to take to high heels.”

Mistress shrugged.  “Not that much I guess.  It’s just that two of my maids take that size – I’d sort of imagined him swapping shoes with them.  That sort of thing.  Now that I think on it?  No need.  Cancel that requirement.”

Joan nodded and wrote something on a piece of paper.  Looked up.  “Now you didn’t define leg configuration, but he really does have a nice set of gams.  Nice and straight, should look lovely in stockings.  But you indicated that you wanted ‘dimpled knees’?  We weren’t too sure about that.”

Mistress cogitated for a second or two.  Prodded me on the shoulder.  “Right Antoinette.  Up you get.  Kick your shoes and stockings off, then take your pants off.  Let’s have a look.”

I got up from her lap.  “Please Mistress?  May I ask a question?”

“Yes, my little turtledove, you may.”

“I don’t understand what is happening here?”

She gave me a broad smile. “It’s very simple.  There is a firm that undertakes to find darling little sissy boys for women like me who like such things.  One of the ways they find little treasures like you is by having lookouts in offices hiring clerical positions.  If they see someone they consider a viable candidate, they slip a psychological profile questionnaire in with the rest of the stuff.” She turned to Joan.  “Is that right?”

Joan nodded.  “Basically – and when someone like you, Antoinette, comes along and rings all of our bells and whistles, we simply check our waiting list and see who provides the best match.  Your Mistress here came the closest to describing you – so now we’re just going through the process – seeing how we’re going to fix you to come the closest possible to her requirements.  Quite simple actually.”

It was all so matter of fact and direct, that I felt silly for asking.  “But you said something about changing the size of my feet.  Is that possible?”

“Yes.  But we normally don’t recommend it.  It’s expensive and tends to hurt you sissies – and we want to minimize that.”

“But suppose I don’t have dimpled knees – like mistress wants?” I asked, realizing that impatience was starting to show on Mistresses’ face and kicking off my shoes and socks as I spoke.

“Easy,”  Joan said.  “Not a common request, but a little plastic surgery works wonders.”

“Surgery?” I asked nervously.

I think that’s enough for now dear.  Take your pants off, please?” Mistress said then added.  “And once you do? Come over here a little closer where I can see you.”

Naked from the waist down, except my underpants I approached Mistress .  Once I was close enough she felt the skin surrounding my knees.  “Quite nice.  Soft and plump enough.  They’ll do.  Now take your underpants off please.  I want to see your backside.”

“You didn’t specify anything on his buttocks,”  Joan said.

“I know that.  No problem.”  Mistress said.  “Antoinette?  Step out of your undies, turn around and lift your shirt.  Please?”

I did so, and she gasped with pleasure as the ran the palms of her hands over my buttocks. “Oooh!  How soft and girlish!  You do have my desires for his hip enlargement there Joan?”

“Waist twenty six, hips 36, bust 34 C? Want to change anything?” Joan asked.

“Perfect!  But if he doesn’t agree?” Mistress replied.

“Oh, he’ll agree I think.”  Joan said.  “Antoinette?  Look at the TV screen again, would you?”

The TV screen flickered, and there I was, a full length photo of me staring forward.  I was fully clothed, but then my clothing started to disappear.  Then I was nude, my privates were air brushed out, I assume.  “This is you – apart from some of your equipment,” Joan said with a smile.  But let’s look at some possible changes, shall we?”

On the screen, subtle changes were being made.  I am slim, but my waist seemed to shrink a little – then my hips grew – and then a bust line started to develop.  Then a feminine hairstyle seemed to grow naturally – and I was looking at a fairly attractive women.

“You’ll make an attractive woman, once you’ve approved your surgery,” Joan said.  “Don’t you agree Antoinette?  I’ll tell you right now that we don’t really need it – you were in such a hurry when you were applying for that job, remember?  Didn’t read everything you signed, did you?  Silly girl!”

“I’m not going to sign anything more!” I said firmly.  “Certainly not for surgery!”

“You’d disappoint your nice Mistress, huh?” she asked.  “Don’t you want to please her?”

I was sure of myself, but nervous.  Spoke to Mistress.  “I’m sorry ma’am,” I said sincerely.  “But I can’t see my way to doing this.”

Joan shrugged. “Well dear?  We have another client who fancies you.  She won’t mind taking chances with legal problems – so we’ll change you to look like this – without your permission.”

Horrified, I watched the neat, well proportioned body on the screen change – pendulous breasts and a huge backside showing there.  “Ugh!”  Mistress said, her tone horrified.  “You wouldn’t do that to my sweet little Antoinette, would you Joan?”

“In a New York second!” Joan said, laughing.

Panicked I signed a whole mess of permission slips allowing for breast implants, hip enlargement, collagen treatments on my lips, ear piercing, planing my Adam’s apple  – a whole raft of cosmetic surgeries.   Mistress gave me a large hug.  “My very own little sissy! Oh, I’m going to dress you SO pretty.  Make you into my personal maid! The other girls who work for me are going to be SO jealous.  They’ll probably give you a hard time because you’re going to be prettier than them – but you won’t mind that, will you?”

I didn’t answer.  She just laughed.

“You’re sure you want to take him home with you immediately?”  Joan asked.  “Are you sure you can control him until you bring him back for his surgery?  It’s quite unusual you know.  You realize that if he escapes or turns out to be not suitable, that we won’t be held responsible?”

“Yes.  No problem,”  Mistress said.  “I want my maids at home to see how he looks before we convert him. But do you have the stuff to put him to sleep?”

“Right here.  You want to give it to him now?”

“Oh no.  I’ll give it to him once I get him home – then bring him back tomorrow.  Okay?”

“Perfectly okay.  You’re the boss!” Joan said, giving Mistress a brightly colored small bottle.

 

Back in the car, fully dressed again, I said nothing until we had left the office and were well down the street.  “Christ!  That woman scared the hell out of me!”

“I didn’t know you were such a good actor,” Dorothy laughed, “ I mean, you looked as if you were absolutely terrified!.   I kinda liked you calling me Mistress though.  Felt like making you curtsey me a few times!”

“Hey!  Things were bad enough!” I laughed. “You got a tape of the whole thing?” I asked though I didn’t wait for her answer before adding.   “Jesus!  I’d never guessed that there would be an organization of that size and complexity.  When I write that article?  Blow the lid right off!  Good grief!  I need a drink!”

“Coming right up, boss!” she said, driving through some gates and up a long driveway to a big house.  “Where’s this?” I asked.

“Home,” she replied simply.

I blinked, suddenly realizing that my new assistant was driving a Porsche Carrera!  Lived in what looked to be a goddam castle!  “Lots of money in your family?” I asked.

“Some, “ she said, parking the car at the ornate front door. “Still want that drink?”

“Got that right, sister! Get me inside and you can pour away!” 

A rather pretty maid came to the door as Dorothy opened the door. “Oh, it’s YOU Miss Dorothy.  Nice to see you home again.”

“Hi Rose,” Dorothy said.  “My friend here needs a drink.  What do you want Tony?”

“JD on the rocks sounds good,” I said.

“I’ll have my usual,” Dorothy added.

The maid curtsied and went away. 

Another maid brought the drinks on a tray, and yet another visited the room mistakenly thinking that Dorothy had rang for something. I had the peculiar feeling that I was being inspected, but was in too much of a hurry for my drink.  Practically chugalugged it when it came then settled back into my chair.  “You know?  I’m really grateful to you for leading me to this story Dorothy.  Are you sure you don’t want a byline?”

She gave me a soft, seductive, smile.  “No.  I’ve got what I want – you!” she said.  And somehow, she was sitting beside me her arms around my shoulder and kissing me!  “Nighty night, my sweet little Antoinette!” she whispered.

“Mmm?” was all I was able to say before I drifted off in her arms.

 

 

 

*     *     *

 

 

Something was tickling my shoulder.  I pushed it away sleepily – then realized it was soft wavy hair – darker in color than my own hair, although it felt as if it were framing my face.  Then, as I brought my hand away, some soft, frilled fabric, rode down my arm!  I was wearing a nightdress – with fairly large, realistic breasts pertly sticking out under the fabric!

“What the hell!” I muttered – and felt as if my lips were thicker – and I had a slightly sore throat.

“Antoinette?”  A girls’ voice sounded and Rose, the maid came into view.  “Mistress doesn’t like her girls to use vulgar language.  I wouldn’t talk like that around her if I were you.”

“Huh?  Where am I?” I mumbled.

“In the maid’s quarters - where else would you be – you silly thing!  Now get your robe on, I rang Mistress to let her know you were coming to and she’ll be wanting to see how you look standing up, so don’t be keeping her waiting!”

As she hustled me out of bed, I then realized that I had nice, rounded, womanly hips!  Dazed I let the girl push my arms in through the sleeves of a diaphanous peignoir, just as Dorothy entered the room, smiling.   “Well, good morning, Antoinette.  Feeling okay?  It’s been a while!”

“Dorothy?  What’s going ON?” I said, nearly whimpering with fright.

“WHO are you talking to?” she asked firmly.  “And curtsey when you talk to me, girl!”

She spoke firmly, but kindly, and suddenly I knew what had happened to me.  But there was no resentment on my part.  “Sorry Mistress,” I said, taking the sides of my nightwear and curtseying as gracefully as I knew how.  Feeling suddenly happy.

Mistress smiled – and Rose clapped her hands softly – smiling at her new trainee.

 

 

 

The end