Waiting for orders from her mistress

This maid is waiting obediently for the orders of her mistress.

 

Dressed in a skintight black PVC maid dress, she adjusted the frills that lined the neckline, ensuring every crease was smoothed away. She slipped into a pair of fishnet pantyhose that clung to her legs like a second skin, accentuating her now shapely thighs and calves. Her toes wiggled in the high heels that completed the ensemble, their stiletto tips poking out from under the dress's short hem. Each step she took was a silent symphony of submission, a ballet of obedience that was both thrilling and terrifying in its precision.

The house was still, almost eerily so, as she made her way down the grand staircase. The chandeliers cast flickering shadows across the marble floor, and the velvet curtains hung heavy, keeping the outside world at bay. She could hear the faint ticking of an old grandfather clock in the distance, the only reminder of the relentless march of time that waited for no one, not even a sissy maid awaiting instructions.

With each step closer to the mistress's chamber, her heart beat a little faster. She knew the rules: no speaking unless spoken to, no looking directly in her eyes unless permitted, and absolutely no mistakes. The thought of her displeasure was enough to make her quiver with fear and anticipation. Yet, the allure of serving her was a siren's call she couldn't resist, a thrill that coursed through her veins like the sweetest poison.