Maidenhead Ch. 06

Her heels clicked as she shifted from one foot to the other. Lacy thought her heart could not beat any faster than it had in the study.

She was wrong.

The pleasant door chime filled the room.

"Lacy! Get the door!"

Oh, god...

She frantically adjusted her petticoats, pulling them down as low as she dared. As much as she pulled and arranged, hiding her exposed crotch was a losing battle. Nibbling her lip in worry, she took the deepest breath her corset allowed.

Her delicate hand was on the door knob.

As if in a horror movie, it slowly began to turn. Mark could not take his eyes off the feminine hand opening the door.

"I'm looking for Tricia Sellers."

Lacy stood there unable to make words form in her head. Deep in her brain, Mark screamed.

*How is this even possible?*

*How can I be standing here in this fetish maid outfit in front of this complete stranger?*

"You must be Lacy."

Lacy's eyes grew wide.

*He knows who I am?*

Lacy felt the chill afternoon air swirl up under her skirts, fluttering her petticoats. It did nothing to cool the flames on her face.

Oh, god.

"Right this way, sir."

She did a fumbled curtsy and allowed the stranger to step inside, taking great pains to keep as much distance as she could from him. She whooshed the door shut and rushed ahead towards the study, hearing his footsteps as he followed behind her.

As she clicked along, her ass swinging from side to side like a pendulum, she knew the view she was presenting. Her mind did the checklist;

The shortened skirt, puffed up by the petticoats...

The slim and narrow waist...

The long legs wrapped in stockings...

The damnable clicking heels...

The list went on and on inside her head as she clicked towards the destination.

At the study door she paused.

*What is the proper protocol?*

*A knock?*

*Better safe than sorry.*

She knocked.

She could sense the man looming behind her.

*Why is he standing so close? Did he just move closer?*

"Enter!"

Too quickly, she threw open the door and rushed inside. Only then did it dawn on her that she was jumping out of a frying pan and into a raging inferno.

Miss Sellers and Mr. Goodwin looked up at her as she entered.

Lacy trembled with fear.

"Someone to see you, Miss Sellers."

"Ryan!"

Tricia...

*... don't call the Mistress that... we must not call her that...*

... Miss Sellers rushed to greet the man.

Lacy whirled around to watch them embrace in a friendly hug and a polite kiss.

There was vertigo all around her. She took a tentative step backwards and then two more.

*My wife invited this man over.*

*My wife told him about...*

Lacy took another step back and bumped into something solid and began a slow motion fall to the ground. She could not seem to keep her footing and the world upended itself.

Mr. Goodwin's hands grabbed her arms to steady her, bringing her back onto the stilts that she called shoes.

"Good to see you, Ryan." he said. He squeezed her arm in reassurance. Mr. Goodwin's body pressed just a little too close. His grip on her arms kept her from easily getting away.

"I haven't missed anything, have I?" the stranger said, giving Miss Sellers a peck on the cheek. "I apologize for running late."

"Not at all." Tricia turned to look at Lacy, who was still held tight in the grip of Mr. Goodwin. "Charles and I were just catching up."

The new stranger laughed at this, his eyes sparkling. Behind him, Mr. Goodwin chuckled as well. Lacy felt the hurricane of butterflies in her stomach again. She hated missing the joke.

Worse than feeling stupid, there was a warmth pressed up against her from behind. She wriggled trying to get free of Mr. Goodwin's grip, but the fingers on her arms tightened. He had her pinned unless she were to make a much bigger scene in an effort to get away. Worse, the wiggling had caused him to pull her even closer. She knew what effect her wiggling might have with him pressed that tightly against her.

She stopped, anxiously nibbling her lip.

"Lacy!" The sharp tone to Tricia's voice caused her to jump as much as Mr. Goodwin's grip allowed. "Stop flirting with Charles and offer our guest a drink. Would you like a beer, Ryan?"

*Flirting? Me???*

Lacy giggled in his head.

Another squeeze to her arms and then she was stumbling forward from the gentle push Mr. Goodwin provided. She flung her arms out, desperately trying to gain her balance.

She failed.

She careened forward and crashed into the chest of the new arrival. He grabbed her with a single arm, steadying her back to a standing position.

"Down girl," he laughed. He too, held her a little TOO close. "Maybe after I've had a drink or two, yes?"

"Oh please," Miss Sellers said, "The little slut probably can't wait that long."

Lacy stammered. Words seemed a foreign concept as she felt herself turned around by the grip of the new intruder. She squirmed as she found herself face to face with the new man. Meeting his eyes was a mistake and she dropped them down to look at her hand against his chest. It looked extremely feminine against the male clothing.

Behind her, he heard Tricia...

*... Miss Sellers...*

... moving closer.

"Let me show you"

Without warning, a hand snaked down between Lacy's legs from behind. A single finger rubbed him, wiggling ever so slightly between her thighs.

*The same spot Mr. Goodwin touched...*

*Mmmph...*

With complete and total horror, sandwiched between this stranger and his own wife, Lacy felt arousal instantly flood through her.

*No. Nonononono...*

"See, look."

Taking a step back and dragging Lacy with her, Miss Sellers, lifted the front of the maid's petticoats.

"Nonono," the words were barely audible, trickling from her painted lips.

*This can't be happening.*

*This CANNOT be happening!*

Down below she felt herself twitch, even knowing she was now exposed to the entire room. She felt a little dribble of liquid spurt and knew it was languidly dripping down to the floor between her legs.

Everyone else in the room laughed.

"Not much to work with down there," the new arrival laughed. Miss Sellers' laugh turned into a chuckle.

"She's got other uses," she said and unceremoniously dropped the skirt. Lacy stood there stunned. She had just been...

"Speaking of, I believe you were asked to fetch a beer, slut." The words were spoken slowly by his wife, as if Lacy was a particularly stupid dog.

"Yes, Miss Sellers," Lacy said, softly. Her hands and legs did the expected curtsy. It was done automatically. Her brain was completely on autopilot.

She felt empty and alone; A shell of something that used to be human.

She shut the door behind her and for a moment she thought tears would come again. She was surprised to find she really was empty now. All her tears had been cried out.

She took another of the shallow, bosom-heaving breaths and began the short mincing walk to the kitchen. Each step caused the petticoats to tickle erotically. The entire outfit was supercharging the blood flowing to her cock.

*Not just to my cock.*

*The spot between my legs too...*

The special spot that both Mr. Goodwin and his wife had rubbed this afternoon, felt hot in his mind. He could not stop recalling the fingers that had visited there.

*What is wrong with me?*

Two strange men were in his house and he was trapped, looking like a fetish wet-dream. His wife was showing him off, humiliating him at every turn and yet...

*Sooooo horny...*

*Stop it!*

*Oh, God, I need to cum...*

*Stop it!*

*Just... touch it...*

*No!*

*Just touch it for a moment...*

His hand was under the petticoats, lightly stroking his very wet cock. He was right up to the edge.

*Stop it!*

Lacy's hand, wet and sticky, darted from under the skirts and Mark held back the orgasm. If he came...

*Oh, God, I need to cum...*

... he'd be stuck looking like this...

*CumCumCUM!*

... having to be this slutty caricature of a maid without the arousal to distract him.

*Shut up and get the beer!*

... and then we go back in there?

... and then we go back in there.

How could part of him be that excited to go back into that horrible room? Her hand was touching him under the petticoats again. He whimpered from the energy of holding back.

*I'm so close...*

How had he gotten this close so quickly?

*Oh, God! Fuck me!*

Mark shoved the Bimbo-Slut hard, forcing her back to the recesses of his mind. With all of his effort, he made her hand stop stroking between his legs. Lacy let go of his cock, but the Bimbo did not fully relinquish control of his mind. She lingered in the forefront, mewling and begging for carnal pleasure.

... slut...

She really was a slut. There was no other word for it.

Lacy wiped her sticky hands off on a paper towel, her mind an erotic haze. She took the bottle opener from the drawer and placed it on the tray next to the beer and the glass.

Carefully, she sashayed her way back to the door, her left hand swinging freely to maintain the balance of the tray. She was about to knock, her arm raised, her brain on autopilot, when the tray tilted. The bottle and glass shifted dramatically and she almost screamed in terror as she desperately tried to balance them. A circus-like seesaw act followed, with her frantically trying to keep the rolling bottle and glass on the tray. The bottle rolled to the very edge of the tray and teetered on certain destruction. As if a revelation, she remembered she had a second hand and grabbed it. Standing it back up along with the glass, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Her heart was thumping.

It is just a bottle and a glass.

We don't want another spanking.

Touche.

Another shallow breath and then she carefully knocked.

"Come in."

A male voice. She thought it might be Mr. Goodwin's, but it was hard to tell. She did not really know either of them, apart from the few words spoken in front of her.

Inside Lacy's head, Mark fumed. He had just asked permission to enter a room in his own house.

A man I don't even know just gave me permission to enter my own room...

A guy who just spanked you...

The second thought didn't make Mark feel any better.

She carefully maneuvered past the door, now overly aware of the precarious bottle on the tray.

Mr. Goodwin was by the mantle and the new arrival had taken Tricia's chair. Tricia was...

... uh-oh...

... not here...

Fear, already palpable, completely overcame her. The tray began to tremble and she shifted to hold it with both hands. She was alone with two strange men.

"Well?"

That was the new guy. He was looking at her with expectation.

What does he want?

Her eyes darted away from his and down to the beer.

Oh. Right. Stupid bimbo.

Carefully, she minced over and offered the tray. The man smirked at her, grabbing the bottle and the opener.

"I don't need the glass." He winked at her. "Thanks, babe."

With the smirk never leaving, he cracked the cap of the bottle with the opener.

The explosion took them all by surprise.

A small geyser of foamy liquid burst from the top, pouring down the man's hand and onto the floor between his feet. He held it out towards her, trying to keep it from getting on his clothing. Little specks of foam and liquid sprayed on her.

Lacy's heart stopped as she saw the mess.

"What th' fuck?"

"Don't worry about it," Mr. Goodwin said, chuckling from the other side of the room.

"It just exploded all over the place."

"Well, look who touched it, what did you expect?"

There was a moment of silence as the new guy looked from Mr. Goodwin to her. And then, he laughed.

"I see your point."

They were blaming her!?! She had just carried it. He was the one that had made it...

... although I did almost drop it...

Oh, god! It is my fault.

... maybe...

"I bet you make all kinds of things explode, eh babe?" the man said. There was a sharp tweak to her bare thigh and she squealed, stepping away.

It took a moment for her scattered brain to realize that he had just goosed her ass.

*Make things explode? What did he...*

Her mind flashed back to the bottle exploding, the liquid gushing from the top like...

*Oh, God... he's saying I...*

"I'll... I'll... get something... to clean this up..." words were not coming easily for her.

She curtsied quickly, then dashed out the door and back down the hallway. Her heels sounded like galloping horses to her ears. Between her legs, she was very erect and it bobbed up and down with each impactive step. It made her feel even more foolish.

She grabbed a hand towel from the bathroom and was back in the room in what must have been Olympic time for anyone wearing five-inch heels.

With little to no thought, she was on her knees, mopping up the liquid.

*I am not...*

*... NOT...*

*... going to get spanked again.*

They could not blame her for this. They could not know that she jostled the bottle. Behind her, they continued to talk, ignoring her completely. It was only as the beer emergency began to calm down that she even registered the words and what they were saying.

*They're not talking about my punishment...*

That was her main concern. She continued to dab at the spill on the floor.

"... I think in the kitchen."

"Why?"

"Think about it... domestic... neutral colors..."

"Fair enough. When does Tony get here?"

*Tony?*

*More guests?*

Her head darted up instinctively, drawing their attention. For the briefest of moments, she felt like a meerkat, sitting on her heels, knees on the ground, poking her head straight up.

"Here."

The new man offered the beer bottle back to her. She stared at it puzzled.

"Wipe it off."

He said it slowly as if Lacy were mentally challenged.

She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity.

... of course... wipe the bottle off...

She took the bottle and ran the rag around it.

"Is there some problem?" the man's voice turned from amiable to confrontational without warning. He was looking straight at her and her face paled.

"No, sir."

"Is cleaning up your own mess too much work for you?"

What? Why was he...

... oh no...

I rolled my eyes... He thought...

"No, sir. I was... I should have cleaned you up first, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

He stared at her intently. His eyes did not waver from hers for even an instant. She wanted to look away, but she was too scared that would provoke him even further.

Where is Tricia?

... Miss Sellers...

He didn't want to be alone in here with the two of them.

"Come here."

What? No. I'm being good. I cleaned everything up...

"Come here!"

His voice was louder as his hand grabbed her neck. He pulled and she found herself yanked forward. On her knees as she was, there was little she could do except clamber forward. It was that, or fall on her face.

He sat in the chair that Miss Sellers had previously occupied and yanked her by the neck again, forcing her to move in between his spread legs.

For the second time that day, she found herself looking at a man's crotch from an unusually close perspective.

"Now, I hear you have a little bit of an attitude, Lacy."

His voice was deep, the grip on her neck tight and stern.

"I don't have time for that kind of shit today. I'm here to do Tricia a favor on my day off. So, I expect you to be on your best behavior. When I ask you to do something, you do it. Got it?"

There was a tight squeeze on her neck and she squeaked the words out.

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl," the grip loosened, but the hand stayed there, giving her a positive squeeze of affection.

"Now, you're just going to sit right there and be perfectly quiet unless we need you for something. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

I'm not going to be punished.

Thank god.

Where is Tricia?

Miss Sellers. Don't get us punished again.

Fine. Where is she? Why did she leave me alone with this monster?

Lacy desperately wanted to look around for her, but she was afraid to break eye contact with the man squeezing her neck. The man that had locked eye contact with her.

"Good girl."

The hand left her neck and she started to scramble away. She had to get out from between his legs and away from this horrible intruder.

"Where the fuck are you going?"

He grabbed her neck again, pulling her forward, pushing her cheek against his upper thigh.

"I..."

She stared up into his face, frightened.

"I said... sit... right... there..."

He squeezed her neck so hard it hurt and then suddenly released it. She dared not move. She was bent awkwardly, leaning slightly at an angle, her cheek against his leg.

In all the crawling movement, her skirt and petticoats had fluffed up and she knew her backside was completely exposed. And yet...

... if I move...

If she moved, there was no telling what this man might do.

... I bet Mr. Goodwin is looking at me right now...

Oh, God!

Her ass was completely on display. She felt a small whimper leave her throat even as she stared into the non-moving eyes of her new tormentor. The rough fabric of his pants felt wrong against her cheek.

A long, silent moment filled the room and then the man laughed. Relief filled Lacy as his eyes left the maid moving back to Mr. Goodwin.

"What were we talking about?"

Mr. Goodwin laughed at this as well.

"You mean, before you shoved the maid's face in your crotch?"

"It seems like a good place for her."

Lacy wanted to die. She felt so submissively slutty and used.

"No doubt. Location. The Kitchen, yes?"

"Right. I think that the neutral white will..."

Lacy was not listening. The conversation was not about her.

She let her eyes drop from the man's face. Her whole body was fused with embarrassment at the position she found herself in. Yet, she dared not move. She was afraid to even to sit up straight or pull down the back of the petticoats. The man that was controlling her was obviously an unstable individual and she was in NO position to fight.

The trouble was, she did not know how long she could maintain this awkward lean she was doing. Her butt was stuck out past the man's feet and her face was right up against his leg. She was looking right at his...

Suddenly, the full realization of how she looked sank in.

She was kneeling between the legs of this complete stranger. Her eyes were staring directly at his crotch. She could see the telltale bulge of what he kept beneath his pants and she hated that she was staring at it. Yet, the other option was to look up at him. She tried glancing up and that felt equally bad. It was as if she were a pet begging with her eyes. She looked back at his crotch and despair set in. She felt completely and totally helpless.

*This man...*

*... this complete stranger...*

*... completely dominated me...*

*... mmph...*

The Lacy part of his brain was relishing that thought.

*... in less than two minutes...*

*... this man just took control of me...*

*... dominated me...*

*... owns me...*

*Shut up, Slut! You're not helping.*

This was ridiculous. Things were out of control. He was between the legs of a man, dressed like a slut and letting the man have his way with him. It had to stop.

*... and yet...*

Yet, his cheek stayed glued to the man's leg.

*There are two of them and I'm trapped in heels and a corset. I don't know where Tricia is. One of them could easily overpower me and there are TWO of them. If I draw attention to myself, they might...*

*They might what?*

That was Lacy.

A very excited Lacy.

A very excited and eager to cum Lacy.

Her hand was under the front of the petticoats and Mark's eyes goggled as he felt the hand caress the throbbing excitement beneath the front of his skirts.

No. Don't touch that!

SOOOO horny!

No!

"Did I miss something?"

Tricia.... Miss Sellers... Oh, thank god. She'll fix this. She'll...

"Your maid spilled beer all over the place." Mr. Goodwin said, his voice too charming for comfort.

"Oh, for heaven's... - I leave for five minutes..." Tricia sounded annoyed. "She's completely hopeless sometimes. I trust you sorted it all out, Ryan?"

"Of course," the voice above her said, "But, I wasn't sure what your policy was for these things. She was clumsy and that was forgivable, but then she started with the attitude."

Attitude?! What had she...

"Well, we can't spank her... she likes it too much!" Mr. Goodwin laughed.

"That's true."

Likes it? They had beaten her...

"I suggest you cane her," the voice above her said, "She won't like that, I guarantee it."

Cane her? They wouldn't...

oh, God... they couldn't...

Mark, deep inside the fetish exterior, felt his whole world slide away. All around him, people were discussing ways to punish him. They were offering up ways to humiliate, torture and degrade him. He felt trapped. Helpless. He was well and truly trapped and not in the arousing 'let's play a submissive game' kind of way. No one else in this room was treating this like a game. They were treating it like...... like this is who I really am...

"Good idea, but no caning tonight, I think. We don't want to mark her up..."

"That's fair."

"She really is just a little too willful..."

They were talking about her as if she were not even there. Yet, she dared not speak; dared not bring attention to herself; dared not even move her cheek off of the horrid man's leg.

*Cane her? They might cane her!*

"If I may..." the man above her said and started to stand.

Lacy panicked.

*Do I keep my leg on his cheek or disengage or...*

The decision was spared her. He grabbed her again by the scruff of the neck and roughly 'encouraged' her to get to her feet. She tottered as her heels hit the floor, her eyes large and frightened as she looked up at the large man holding her neck. Then she felt his other hand poking around her stomach. He was...

*Oh, God... he's undoing his belt!*

Lacy whimpered.

"... please, no... I'm so sorry, sir... please... no..."

"Shhh." The release of air was short and insistent. With his belt unbuckled, he released her neck, almost daring her to run. The belt slid out of the loops on his pants with a hissing sound.

*Is he going to beat me?*

*Is he undoing his pants?*

*Is he...*

He pulled the belt free and sat back down in front of her.

*Am I supposed to kneel back down?*

*I don't know the rules...*

*This isn't fair... I don't know what to do...*

*It isn't f...*

His hands snaked around her legs and she felt the belt wrap around her tightly, just above the knee. Despite the fear, the touch of his hands through her stockings caused Lacy to mewl in heat and the little erection down below to throb.

*... Oh, God, it's right at his eye level now...*

He slipped the belt through the buckle and cinched it. She nearly fell on top of him, as her knees slammed together. He buckled it tight and then wrapped the belt again, feeding the slack through the leather holding strap.

"There." he said, his hand smacking her exposed upper leg just above the stocking. "Maybe that will remind you to slow down and be a little more careful and courteous."

Her eyes went wide as saucers.

He just hobbled me.

I have to walk like this?

I'm hobbled!

I can't pull my knees apart.

"Now, go get me another beer and let's pretend we're starting over, yes?"

He smacked her upper leg again, harder this time, and she squealed, leaping up a little. Her petticoats fluttered upward revealing everything.

"Look! She even likes that," Mr. Goodwin laughed.

"I told you, Charles," Miss Sellers said, "She's a complete nympho."

Lacy whimpered and began trying to turn around. Every step was delicate. She had to carefully plan each step, just to walk. Her hands had to swing overwhelmingly girlish as she hobbled for the door. She dared not look at any of them. Every ounce of her concentration was focused on the simple act of walking. She was almost to the door, almost safe when...

"Lacy!"

It was Miss Sellers.

*Why is she letting this happen?*

She turned around awkwardly to face the room again. Humiliation flooded through her as she caught the image of herself in the mirror. The sexy slut it reflected now looked even more helplessly submissive. The bondage only gave her more of the damsel-in-distress look.

"Yes, Miss Sellers?"

"You forgot your tray."

Lacy paled.

"Yes, Miss Sellers. Sorry, Miss Sellers."

They all laughed as she hobbled slowly back into the room. With all eyes on her, she awkwardly bent to get the tray and then hobbled her way out the door. The laughter could be heard even as it swung shut behind her.

Eight Months Ago - Friday, 9:13 PM

"Please, Tricia?"

He hated the whine in his voice, but the desire...

... is overwhelming...

"I know I screwed up last night. I'm very, very, VERY sorry... but... please? Can we try it again?"

Tricia sat on the bed. She had already changed out of her work clothes and into a comfortable set of sleepwear. Her book was on her lap, already open to the right spot. She held her place with her thumb and looked up at him with an annoyed expression.

"What do I get out of it?" her voice was level, her eyes on his. One eyebrow quirked up at him.

A negotiation.

That is a good sign.

She's entertaining the possibility.

All day, he wanted to put on the maid's outfit. The night before had been torturous...

... at first...

With his desire spent, the overly constricting bondage was somewhat painful.

As the evening wore on, the arousal slowly returned and it had been a heavenly treat. Yet, at the end of it, he had dared not cum. He could not risk it after having disappointed her by losing control earlier without her.

They had gone to bed. She released him from the overly-erotic bondage outfit and encouraged him to wear one of his new satin nightgowns.

Sleep would not come.

The satin caressed his smooth skin and the feel of the outfit haunted him.

... and I can't cum...

He dared not cum...

... not after he had ruined the evening with his loss of control.

The morning finally arrived and he dragged himself from bed, red-eyed from unrest. He made her breakfast, kissed her goodbye and...

... and obsessed...

... all day...

Just the idea of sliding back into that maid outfit, overwhelmed him with lust.

Yet, he dared not relieve himself.

... not after the last time...

He could not sleep. He could not eat. The desire overwhelmed everything else and became obsession.

By the time she arrived home that evening, he was a wreck. All he could think about was her...

... her locking me back into that outfit...

Tricia was having none of it.

He made her dinner and listened as best he could to her venting of the day.

He refilled her wine glass at any and every opportunity.

He fetched her clean towels for her bath.

He doted on her hand and foot.

The evening ended. She was ready for bed, her book in her hand...

... and he...

... he was completely and absolutely desperate.

"Please, Tricia!"

"What do I get out of it?" she asked again. She was smiling now, the dominance from the previous evening creeping back in.

"Whatever you want. Anything." he said eagerly, "What do you want?"

"Oh, honey..." she said chuckling, "You don't want to go there..."

"Whatever you want, Tricia. Anything!" he pleaded. "I know you're tired and work was bad today... I just... It was really fun last night and I wanted to..."

"Did you shave, Lacy?"

She was using that new name.

The name she gave me.

I really need to talk to her about that.

... but not tonight.

No need to complicate things. Not when he was this close to talking her into locking him back into his outfit.

"Yes. Absolutely."

"You shaved everywhere?"

"Yep. Everywhere."

He had shaved. It was the only substantial thing he had accomplished today. It was a surprisingly difficult and time-consuming task. Shaving his whole body top to bottom took forever.

It was not unpleasant.

How could he not have shaved today, knowing that he might get the chance to put on that heavenly outfit again?

"... and the... other thing... you were supposed to do?"

He blushed.

He really didn't like giving himself an enema.

Yet, he had. It was nothing extreme, just a quick disposable one from the box of them she had purchased.

She had specifically requested he start doing it in the morning.

Tricia never asked for things like that without following up on them.

He nodded, his face brilliantly scarlet.

"So, you're a good girl, are you?" she smiled.

His heart beat a little faster.

*A good girl.*

"Fetch me a notebook and then put on your makeup just like I showed you last night..."

He dashed to the desk, looking for a notepad. He felt like a kid on Christmas morning. His eagerness was overwhelming.

"Take your time with the makeup, Lacy. You don't want to rush these things."

She was laying on the bed, her pencil scratching words on the notepad. He sat at the vanity, carefully going through the steps she had explained the night before. His face slowly becoming more and more feminine with each application.

He hated doing his eyes. Everything he tried seemed smudgy and out of place.

She had instructed him on it and he dared not leave anything out. If they were going play, it would need to be perfect. Yet, as he went through his kit, he realized that in his discomfort and lack of interest the previous night he had not paid enough attention. He hoped he could do it well enough to please her.

Twenty minutes later, he presented himself with a small 'ta-da' of a flourish.

"Not bad for the first attempt on your own. You used too much blush and your eyes are a little whorish, but not bad. There's a Cosmo on the coffee table downstairs that has an article on making your eyes look bigger. Read it tomorrow."

He nodded.

*Cosmo. Sure. Whatever.*

The desire was so strong his mouth was watering.

"So, you're absolutely sure you want to be the maid tonight?"

He nodded. He tried not to look too eager.

He failed.

"I'll help you get locked into it..."

*Locked into it. Oh, God... so arousing.*

"... but, I'm going to have to go to bed, honey."

*No. No, he had waited all day for this.*

"Please, Tricia."

She smiled at him.

"I said I'd help. I'm just saying that if you're going to do this, you're going to stay that way all night. I don't want you waking me up in an hour or two begging to be unlocked."

*All night?*

His mind swam in erotic visions.

"I have to be up early, so here's my proposal..."

She swung her legs off the side of the bed and patted the mattress next to her. He took the cue and sat next to her. She held out the notepad which was now covered with writing.

"These are chores that need to be done around the house. I'll dress you up, lock you in, and you can spend the night downstairs doing these chores."

The first hint of disappointment began to radiate through him.

"Tricia... it's ten o'clock. These things would take..."

"All night."

"All night?"

"At six o'clock you can make me breakfast. I wrote down what I would like, and you can bring it to me in bed. After breakfast, I'll unlock you and then you can spend the day however you like."

"All night?"

"This gives us both something we want. You get to dress up as your slutty, little fantasy, and I get a clean and tidy house and breakfast in bed. Do we have a deal?"

Mark nibbled his lower lip for a minute. It was so sweet, the lipgloss coating it with a fruity and feminine taste.

"All night long?"

"Deal."

The word burst out of him, and he wondered if it came from his rational mind or from the submissive part of his brain that was throbbing with desire.

"Get the outfit, Lacy. We'll get you locked in..."

Today - Sunday, 6:22 PM

Walking with her knees hobbled together made the arousal unbearable. His baby-smooth thighs were rubbing back and forth. The overwhelming sensory arousal of the stockings caressing each other beneath the horrid, hobbling belt made each move torture.

*I can't go back in there.*

*So horny...*

*Stop it...*

*Let's cum...*

*No!*

*Please?!*

*No!*

*I have to cum!*

*You don't have to and no!*

Each step was an internal struggle just to keep the inner Bimbo-Slut in check. Truth be told, Mark wanted to cum just as bad as she did, but he knew what would happen if he did...

That lesson had been hard learned. If you cum, it is always worse.

... and it's already so bad...

... please, let me cum...

... really bad...

... I need it. I need it so badly!

... life changing bad...

... it'll only take a second. Just let me touch it...

... his world was gone...

*How do I come back from something like this?*

*Cum. Cum. Cum.*

What had been a simple dress up game was now something insanely more. Tricia had crossed a line. She was not playing his game anymore. She was playing some other game.

... her game...

A game that had a new set of rules that Mark did not know.

... I think my marriage is over...

... please... let's just touch ourselves for a minute. Just for a second...

Tricia must no longer see him as a man at all. He had played the game too much. He had played too often and too eagerly, letting her take more and more control. He had really and truly become her slutty and submissive maid.

*How did I not see this coming?*

Cum!

How did I let it come to this?

CUM! Touch it! Touch me! Fuck me! Please, God... I need to cum!

"SHUT UP!"

The words hissed out of his teeth in a soft growl. He was only halfway down the return trip to the study.

Step...

Cum! Cum! Cum!

... after humiliatingly awkward step...

... please... just touch it. Just touch me, just a little.

He had one hand holding the tray and the other hand holding the bottle on the tray. He would not drop this one. He would not shake it. He was NOT going to be punished for ANYTHING else.

I need it!

Step.

Please?!

Step.

Fuck me!

Step.

The hand holding the bottle was moving. He was rubbing the bottle neck with his thumb.

Correction: Lacy was rubbing it.

She's rubbing it like it was a long, hard c...

STOP IT!

He tried to stomp his foot, but hobbled as he was by the belt and high heels it was more of a tap.

It was only ten more feet to the door. Only a few minutes had passed as he traversed the hall, but it felt like days. He breathed a shallow breath and forced the Bimbo-Slut down...

... way down...

... back...

... and away.

Musical chimes filled the room.

Mark whimpered.

The doorbell.

There was no command bellowed from the den this time.

Is there a need for one?

He was the maid, after all. His job was to answer the door.

He pivoted, careful of the beer bottle, and hobbled to the front door.

I can't do this.

He could not open the door.

How many more people are going to see me like this?

How many more men are going to show up and make this nightmare worse?

The chimes filled the room again.

If they rang a third time, he was certain there WOULD be a command from the den.

I'll be punished...

... again...

He would be punished in some unspeakably horrible way.

I can't do this...

Sucks to be you.

Please, help me.

Now you want my help?

Please.

Can we cum?

Maybe.

Maybe, yes?

Maybe.

Good enough.

Lacy took control. By putting one toe up, it made the hobble look less awkward and gave her a cute jutted out hip. Her feminine hand reached out and quickly opened the door.

Outside stood the most unusual looking woman Lacy had ever seen. She had spiked, purple hair, with a blast of pink that was frizzed up to one side. Along the side of her neck, tattooed creatures crept up around her ear. Her makeup was a plethora of colors and made her whole appearance exotic and wild.

"Hi! I'm Toni!"

The woman took a long look at the sissy maid in front of her and then smiled a friendly grin.

"Aren't you just the sexiest thing ever?" she giggled. Without waiting for Lacy to invite her in, she pushed past her. The large wooden box in her left hand bumped against the maid and she teetered, almost falling over. With the tray in one hand and her legs hobbled together, she wobbled like a bowling pin on the insanely high heels.

"Oops sorry." said the tattooed woman, as she helped steady the maid. "You must be Lacy. Nice to meet you."

Toni shut the door herself as Lacy desperately tried to maintain her newly regained balance.

"So... where's the party?"