Maidenhead Ch. 10

Her eyes locked with Mr. Goodwin and the look he gave her caused a wave of humiliation, fear and submission to wash over Lacy.

... I'm kneeling before a guy...

She was dressed in the most provocative and submissive outfit possible and she was kneeling before a guy who was wearing only his underwear.

She could not seem to find her breath.

His hand was on the back of her head and the 'Click-Click-Click.' of the camera sounded like bass drums in her ears.

She was being photographed in this position.

... the classic cocksucker position...

... oh, God...

... I'm being photographed on my knees...

... in front of a man...

... his hand holding my head...

... looking up at him...

... completely submissive...

... mmpphh...

... oh, God...

... how did this happen?

... how did it come to this?

Lacy's eyes darted to Miss Sellers...

... to Tricia...

... and the expression on her face caused pieces to click into place.

Eight Months Ago - Saturday, 9:37 PM

"Elbows on the bed, Lacy."

It was a command. Once again dressed in his submissive maid uniform, how could he not obey such a delicious command?

"Ass up!"

... oh, God, she's going to spank me...

Fantasy and reality began to merge.

"Arch your back."

This was a little too real. She did not sound like she was playing at all. She sounded as if she were still furious at him.

There was a swish of air behind him as something sliced through empty air. He jolted upward in fear of whatever object she held, terror filling his mind of being hit with something.

"Tricia... listen..."

Her knee landed on his back and he found himself pinned on the bed. His knees gave way, but her weight kept him from sliding downward and away. There was another swish of air.

"Stand up, Lacy. I told you there would be consequences and you were very, VERY lazy today."

He made his legs stand back up, thrusting his petticoated backside up in the air. He could feel her adjust her weight, still pinning him, yet making herself comfortable. If anything, this new position trapped him even more effectively.

Then he saw it.

... oh my God...

The thing she was holding.

"This is going to hurt, Lacy," Tricia said, "Perhaps you'll remember this the next time you have chores."

Mark's eyes widened in fear and he tried to squirm free.

"Tricia! Stop! I don't like this!"

He heard a swish of air and then felt the blindingly hot pain biting his upper left thigh.

He screamed.

"STOP!"

She swung again, and another blast of pain hit both thighs this time.

"I don't like this either, Lacy. Don't make me ever have to do it again."

A third swish and tears exploded out of him as he begged for her to stop.

"Please..."

A fourth swish...

She was not playing. This was not a game to her. She was beating him. She was beating him for disobeying her. He struggled to get out from under her. He wiggled and wormed his way around, but she was positioned on his back and arms, keeping him effectively helpless. There was another swish and this time his ass caught fire.

"Stop! Oh, God, Stop! Please! I'm so sorry! I'm so... so... sor...."

He screamed as the switch struck him again. Words no longer came, only sobs and incoherent begging. Mark had no idea how many more smacks he received. There was no count. It felt like an eternity until suddenly she was moving off of him.

Mark's legs had long ago stopped supporting him and he slid to the ground without her weight to hold him. Sobs wracked his body, tears streaming down his cheeks. He could not catch his breath.

"Look at me, Lacy."

Her voice was already across the room. Mark turned to look at her through blurry, tear-filled eyes.

"There's a new list of chores on the table downstairs. The ones you failed to do and a new set for tomorrow."

Mark could not breathe. His chest was heaving, but the outfit prevented any real air for his overworked lungs.

"I highly suggest you get them done this time."

Mark nodded eagerly. He would do them. Oh, God, he would do them. His ass and thighs were boiling lava. His eyes centered on the thing in her hand. It was a thin, plastic rod, so very small...

Mark knew what it was. It was the control rod off the blinds downstairs. But he would never see it as that again.

... she just beat me!

Mark still could not believe it. His wife had just beaten him like a child.

... like a sissy maid...

Despite the burning in his backside; despite the tears in his eyes; despite the cold, hard look in Tricia's eyes; a warm rush of arousal oozed into his panties.

Today - Sunday, 8:05 PM

"Nice," Mr. Ryan said, moving closer. "Put her head against your stomach."

The hand in Lacy's hair urged her head inward. Her cheek hit the warmth of his body and a shudder ran through her.

... this can't be happening...

"Please..."

"Lacy!" Miss Sellers' voice cut through the quiet of the room and caused Lacy to freeze. That was her no-nonsense voice. That was the voice of command.

He whimpered.

The warmth of the man's body; the smell of him; the masculine smell right next to her face. It was mingling with her own strawberry scent.

"Look up at him, Lacy."

She did.

His face was stern, yet friendly; encouraging, yet dominant. She wanted to look away. Every last instinct she had demanded she look anywhere else.

... be anywhere else...

"I said, look at him..."

Mr. Ryan was still clicking pictures, but his voice was not friendly or encouraging in any way. His voice was a command. Lacy kept her eyes up. She focused on the man holding her hair like a leash.

"Keep your mouth a little open, girl."

Her mouth dropped open all on its own.

Just the nature of the command made her brain short circuit.

With her mouth open, kneeling beside him like this...

... I must look like a...

"Good girl."

Click.

... slut...

... mmphm...

... oh, God...

"Now, wrap an arm around his leg..."

Eight Months Ago - Saturday, 10:27 PM

Mark was cleaning the dishes from dinner when Tricia walked into the room.

"It's looking good in here, Lacy."

The words were said soft and kind. A smile burst on his face, even though he could not explain why. The woman saying these words had only just recently beaten him. Yet, the tone of her voice gave the words a deep meaning.

"Thank you."

She walked up behind him as he bent over the sink. He could sense her presence, her heels clicking on the tile floor behind him. As her hands wrapped around him, tears burst into his eyes. They were not tears of pain or fear, but little droplets of relief.

... she still loves me...

She still wanted him and wanted to be with him. He let himself be hugged, his hands still in the wash water.

"I know this is difficult, Mark."

For once, hearing his male name while dressed in the festish uniform did not bother him. They had so much to discuss that the game was barely even worth talking about.

"I'm sorry..." he started.

"Shh. Let me talk." Her voice was still soft, but her words were not a request. His mouth snapped shut.

... is she playing the game now?

... is this real?

He did not know.

"I need this, Mark," she said. Her breath hitched a little and he wondered if she had been crying too. "I need Lacy to take care of the house. I need the maid... and the cook... and the masseuse..."

He nodded. She was working overtime now. The extra hours and the extra stress were partly because of him...

... because I'm not working...

"It's not just because I'm working longer hours. I need Lacy. I need you to be THIS sometimes."

His head tilted as he tried to understand.

... she needs me to be what?

"All day long, I make compromises. I bend over backwards to make sales and quotas. I have to deal with shitty people and their shitty problems. All the demands of the producers, the talent, the artists... ugh.... What I need... more than anything... is to be able to feel..."

Her breath hitched again.

"... to feel in control... even if it's only here with you and for only a little while."

... she wants to feel in control?

... she WANTS to be in control?

Mark's mind raced, trying to reconcile his need to be submissive with her apparent desire for dominance.

"I know it's a sexual thing for you..." her fingers plucked at the front of his uniform, even as her body pressed up against him. "I like it that way too... Maybe more than you know, I think... but it's more than that for me, Mark. I..."

Her forehead slumped against the back of his head and he felt her body sob... once... twice...

"I need this to work."

Her words were so soft he could barely hear them.

He turned around and hugged her. His heart pounded with love for this woman and he pressed against her with every fiber of his being. He felt her arms around him, and it took almost a full minute to realize why the hug felt different. He was inside the hug...

... her arms are around me...

He looked at her. Her beautiful face was covered in tears. He would do anything for this wonderful woman. He knew that.

... if she needs to spank me to feel in control...

... I can deal with that...

At the same time, his brain was moving fast, trying to process and keep up with what she had just revealed to him.

... what exactly does she need?

Today - Sunday, 8:07 PM

"Sit up a little higher, Lacy."

Lacy hesitated.

She sat on the kitchen floor, her bare ass on the cold tile, the tip of her semi-erect penis touching the floor. Despite the discomfort, there was hesitation.

Her arm was wrapped around Mr. Goodwin's knee, her cheek pressed against his outer thigh. If she sat up higher...

"Lacy..."

Lacy looked at his wife. The stern look was directed right at her. He silently begged her. He sent every telepathic thought he could muster.

This is too much!

This has gone too far!

Please don't make me do this!

Please!!!

Miss Sellers' face grew hard and Lacy found herself shuffling up onto her knees.

Her arm slid up the man's leg, wrapping around his thigh. Her face was at the height of his waist. The hand in her hair kept her pressed up against him, Her face slid up off the smooth, warm skin of his leg and against the rough fabric of his underwear.

... oh, god!

Her face was pressed to the side of his body.

... my face is only inches away from his...

... oh, God!

Click.

... oh, GOD!!!

"I can't do this!"

She was standing up awkwardly. The hand in her hair made it nearly impossible and she screamed as she tried in vain to yank free from his grip. She panicked as she tried to disentangle herself, feeling like a wild animal in a trap. She fought and yanked and pulled herself up to her feet with his grip on her. He seemed more shocked than her and as she met his eyes, the grip released. She whirled, trying to find the door to the kitchen.

Then she was moving, fleeing for freedom.

... clickclickclickclick...

She did not make it.

Eight Months Ago - Sunday, 6:30 PM

The petticoats were tickling his inflamed backside. Red welts covered his upper thighs from the beating. They hurt when he sat, they hurt when he walked, they hurt all day; a constant reminder of his laziness and ineptitude. He would not disappoint her again.

The list of chores left to him was, once again, endless. Laundry, vacuuming, mopping, dusting, but there was something new. Something much, much worse...

... windows...

... she wants me to clean the windows...

Cleaning the windows would mean raising the blinds and being seen by the neighborhood.

He had finished the entire list save for that one chore.

An internal battle waged itself inside of Mark's mind.

... burning backside...

... exposed to the neighborhood...

... disappointing Tricia...

... crushing humiliation of being seen...

... burning backside...

His hands rubbed the burning marks and he winced.

Will she beat me again if I don't clean the windows?

Would she beat him again, period? The hug downstairs the previous evening had lasted a long time. They had both sobbed and cried and talked and shared.

... she knows she went too far...

... does she?

"I wish I hadn't needed to punish you."

... she was crying when she said it, but looking back on it...

Looking back, Mark was not sure it was her actions she regretted.

... does she regret the NEED to switch me?

... will she beat me again?... will I let her beat me again?

His hand trembled as he reached for the cord of the blinds. His hand brushed past the thin plastic rod that was the cause of his uncomfortable rear. He shuddered at how small it was versus how much pain it caused. He hesitated with his hand on the cord.

... I'll be seen if I do this. I'll be on display...

His eyes locked on the thin, plastic rod.

He pulled the cord on the blinds. It raised a foot and showed off the top of his stockings to the world. Another foot, and suddenly his waist was visible to the world.

... my slim, corseted waist...

Another foot, and the tiny mounds that were forced upwards on his chest were now on display for all that would care to see them.

He fled the room.

It was too much.

He was still trembling, huddled on the bed, when she came home.

Today - Sunday, 8:08 PM

"I'm so sorry, Ryan," Miss Sellers said. Her hand gripped Lacy's arm so tightly it was likely to leave a bruise. "If you'll excuse us for just one second, I'll straighten this out."

Lacy was dragged out the door by her arm. His wife...

... no... Miss Sellers...

... was dragging him down the hallway at a breakneck speed. His legs pumped trying to make himself keep up in the impossible heels.

... clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick...

They entered the hallway, clicking past the large windows that looked out on the street. She did not let go of Lacy's arm. If anything, the grip intensified, causing Lacy to whimper in pain.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Lacy goggled at her.

What am I doing!?

"Do you have any idea how embarrassed I am right now?"

SHE was embarrassed? Words failed Lacy. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish as she tried to find anything to say.

"I worked very hard to set this whole thing up, Lacy! These aren't just random people. These are people I work with. They're doing me a favor by taking these photos and you have been nothing but a pain in the ass all day!"

Lacy squeaked as the hand released her arm, practically throwing her forward.

"Well? Say something!"

Lacy fought back tears.

"I can't do this, Tricia. This is too much."

"What did you call me?"

"I'm serious, Tricia. This has gone too far. I'm not comfortable with this anymore."

Her face was stone and Lacy looked down to the ground, forcing the words out of her mouth.

"I don't like guys seeing me. I don't like anyone seeing me. I just... I just want to go upstairs and take this stupid outfit off. I'm sorry we ever started playing this stupid game."

"Game?"

His eyes snapped up to her face. Her voice was genuinely surprised.

"Yeah! This stupid, dress up, French-maid shit. I'm... I'm sorry we ever tried it in the first place. I don't like this anymore, Tricia. You've gone too far."

She stared at him. Her eyes were thinking.

"You..." her voice was odd. It was part amused and part bewildered. "You think this is a game?"

"What the hell would you call it? You have me pretending to dress up as your personal maid, beat me when I'm bad, arouse and deny me..."

She stared at him. He knew what he looked like. He looked like a petulant young girl, throwing a tantrum. He did not care. He was done with this. Done with all of it.

"You invite strangers into our home, strangers that have done things to me way beyond anything I'm comfortable with. You think YOU are embarrassed? How do you think I feel?"

A tuft of his hair floated into his face and drifted on top of his nose. He puffed at it agitated. With that puff of air the anger dissipated, leaving only humiliation, fear and embarrassment.

... and she's still looking at me with that weird look...

Silence stretched out. Lacy found himself shuffling on the uncomfortable stilts locked onto her feet.

"I thought we talked about this."

Her voice was a rock, thrust into the silence like a knife.

Mark shook his head. The anger was not coming back. All he had left was humiliation and horror.

"You promised me, Mark."

"I promised you a picture. One. You have it. I did not promise you that you could bring in a whole group of people to take pictures of me. I did not promise to kneel beside a naked man like a porn star. I did not promise to let guys come in here and grope, fondle and beat me. I did not..."

The slap stopped him cold.

"You promised me, Mark."

He shook his head.

... I didn't...

... I didn't promise this...

Eight Months Ago - Sunday, 7:45 PM

She sat on the bed next to him.

"You didn't get everything done, Lacy."

He nodded. Despite the breath-stopping corset, he was huddled on the bed, holding his knees. Fear gripped him. So many different types of fear: exposure, letting her down...

... and fear of being beaten again. There's no forgetting that now...

"I'm sorry. I tried."

"What happened?"

Her arm was around him and he melted into her side, his breath catching.

"I hate this, Tricia. I hate myself."

"Shh. Don't say that." She squeezed him and the crying began.

"I hate myself. I should be supporting us. I should be working. Instead, I'm sitting here dressed in this stupid outfit, crying like a girl. I can't even do the stupid chores you want me to do. I'm useless! I hate this. I hate it all..."

He trailed off, his cries turning into sniffles.

"Shhh. I know..."

Her hand ran up his thigh, sliding along the soft, sensual stocking to the bare flesh above. He put a hand on hers to stop it.

"Please, Trish.. I'm not... I'm not in the mood."

"Shhh... It's going to be ok..."

Her hand continued upwards and he forced it back down.

"I'm serious... I don't want to do this right now. Why do I like dressing like this? What the hell is wrong with me?"

The hand forced past his resistance, sliding up between his legs. He squeezed his legs shut around it, his tucked away equipment soft and unresponsive.

"Listen to me, Mark..." she said. Her voice was soft, full of comfort and support. "I'm going to help you. Do you hear me? I'm going to help you."

"How?" Mark hated how whiny the words sounded.

"I'm going to help you, Mark. We're going to get through this together... "

Her fingers rubbed between his legs, along his tucked equipment.

She rubbed it with her middle finger, massaging between his legs as if...

... as if I were a girl...

Despite himself, he felt the throb of arousal begin.

He wished he could make it stop.

"Please, Tricia. No..."

"I'm going to help you, Mark... I know this is... hard for you..."

As she spoke, her fingers slid under the gaff. It dug in between his ass cheeks as she pulled his little member out of its entrapment. It stiffened, despite Mark's wish.

"I don't...."

"Shhh..." Her voice was in his ear. Her hands wrapping around him and gently pulling him erect. "Right now, you have no job. That's ok. I'll help you find a new one..."

He smiled sadly at her. If only it were that easy.

Her thumb found his sensitive spot and mild arousal became genuine.

"Tricia..."

"We'll find you a new job. A better one. And... you're going to dress like this... not because you like it... but because it's required."

He started as she squeezed the thing between his legs, looking up into her eyes.

"It is?"

"Yes, you silly thing... I told you... I need this right now. I need Lacy. I need you to BE Lacy."

"But..."

"Shhh. I know this is tough on you, but this is what we need right now. I need a devoted bimbo-maid..." she touched his nose with a finger. It was such a goofy thing that it made him smile through his tears, "... and you need a job. Seems like a no-brainer to me."

He shook his head. She was not taking this seriously at all.

"Mark. I'm serious."

He stared at her. She almost seemed like a different person from the woman he had married.

"I want this. I need this. You like dressing like this, anyone can see that..."

Her hand squeezed between his legs, forcing a little burst of liquid out.

"... I like having you dressed like this... so let's make the best of it."

She kissed him softly on the lips, her lipstick slick on his own.

"The maid thing is just temporary. I'll help you find a new job. In the meantime, I want you to promise me something, Mark."

He sighed. He did feel better, despite himself. She could always make him feel better.

"What?"

"Promise me that you'll be my obedient, little maid."

She smiled at him and squeezed between his legs again. He could not help but laugh. He shut his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again she was smiling back. Love flooded through his soul for her.

"I promise."

She shook her head.

"Say the whole thing."

He looked at her and giggled. It came out much more feminine than his voice usually sounded.

"I promise to be your obedient, little maid."

She laughed, pulling her hand away and standing up.

"That's my girl. Now, go sit at the vanity. Let's make sure you look presentable when you clean those windows..."

Today - Sunday, 8:09 PM

They stood in front of the windows in the hall. The blinds were up, letting the warm glow of the house out into the dark neighborhood. Once, there had been trepidation about being in front of these windows, especially at night when anyone could easily see inside.

Lacy was not thinking about that now.

Her face stung from the slap.

Tears instantly sprung up...

... what is wrong with me?!?... I WILL NOT CRY!!!

If anyone had the right to be angry it was Mark.

He ground his teeth and stared at her.

"You promised me, Mark."

"I didn't..."

"You promised to be obedient."

He stopped. She was not talking about the photo.

... she's talking about...

"You promised me."

He had promised.

... but that was part of the game...

... it was a teasing thing to make me feel better...

... I never...

"You call this obedient?"

She slapped him again, even harder this time. He stammered, not even entirely sure what to say.

... this isn't a game to her! She's acting as if...

... as if I'm nothing more than the maid...

... as if this were real...

"You've got two choices, Lacy!" She dragged the name out, making it sound degrading.

It worked.

"You can go back in there and do everything that we tell you to do... and I do mean everything..."

Lacy looked at her with wide eyes. Vision after vision of what 'everything' could mean flashed through her head, each one more graphic and demeaning. Between her legs, arousal was back in full force.

"... or," Miss Sellers strode to the front door and opened it. "You can get out of my fucking house!"

Lacy whimpered.

... her house...

... not mine... not ours...

... hers...

Lacy's mind flashed to a series of less arousing thoughts.

... the house is in her name...

Mark had never been part of that, even when he had been working.

... her house...

Lacy could not move. Her heeled feet felt glued to the floor, her brain whizzing with horror.

... is she saying what I think she's saying?

Lacy shook her head.

"Tricia... please..."

Tricia's eyes flared.

"Out!"

"... no, please..."

"OUT!"

"Please, I'll..."

A hand grabbed Lacy's wrists and half threw her out the door. Lacy staggered to keep her feet on the super high heels. The cold, night air cut against her legs, shriveling her exposed crotch.

"No! Please!"

The door shut with a slam.

"PLEASE! LET ME IN!"

As if in response, the porch light clicked off and then the hall light. Only the moon, peeking through the clouds, gave form to anything around her. Wind blew again as headlights appeared in the distance, driving slow through the suburban street.

Lacy felt smaller and more helpless than she ever had in her entire life. She was alone in the dark, clad in a fetish, sex costume that was locked around her. Each move she made risked exposing her visible crotch to the entire world, revealing her true gender.

There was no word to describe her level of fear.

The headlights drew closer and she cringed away, knowing what she would look like. There was no way to hide herself from anything. All she could do was stand there...

... stand here and be seen by everyone...

She felt herself try to shrink as the headlights hit her.

... oh, God... please don't let them stop... please don't let them stop...

The car passed, and the world grew dark again.

Another cold blast of wind pimpled her flesh, blowing her skirts upwards. She desperately tried to hold them down with her hands.

... do I have a choice?

All the different parts of her brain tried to think of any choices at all, desperately trying to think of any possible escape.

... no...

The warmth of inside and the safety of the house were all her pounding head could conjure.

She knocked on the door.

... oh, fuck... please... let me back in.... I'll do anything... please... Tricia... Mistress... please... open the door...

There was no answer. Lacy knocked again. It sounded so timid, her shaking and trembling hand barely making enough noise to wake a mouse. Her skirts blew up again and she fought them down. There was laughter from people walking way down the block.

... are they laughing at me?... did they see me?

They were far away, but moving this direction.

... please... God... I'll do anything...

The wind blew harder, her petticoats fluttering upwards exposing her completely. She frantically pushed them down as much as she could, still fighting the losing battle.

... please!

She banged on the door.

The porch light clicked on.

... thank you... thank you... oh, God... THANK YOU!

The door opened.

"Lacy."

"Miss Sellers."

His Mistress took two steps back towards the kitchen before turning her head to look at the maid.

... she's waiting...

... go ahead... you know what you have to do...

Mark dipped into a curtsy.

A small smile appeared at the corner of the woman's mouth.