Receiving visitors

This lovely maid goes promptly to receive visitors of her beloved Mistress. She will attend them with her best smile and feminine manners. Her Mistress must be proud of her diligent maid.

 

The doorbell chimed sweetly, piercing the quiet afternoon. The sissy maid paused in his meticulous dusting of the antique vase in the hallway. It was an unexpected sound in the sprawling mansion, a place where solitude was the most reliable of companions.

Visitors meant that Mistress had planned something special, and the sissy maid knew that special occasions called for his most impeccable service. He glided across the polished marble floor, the swish of his silk petticoats echoing off the high ceilings. The house was a stage, and he was about to perform in the role he was born for.

In the grand foyer, the chandelier cast a warm glow over the gleaming surfaces. Kitten's reflection danced in the gleaming mahogany of the banister as he approached the door. He took a moment to ensure that every hair was in place, every ribbon perfectly tied. The door was a barrier to the outside world, a world that knew him as something else, as someone else. But here, in this house, he was the sissy maid, and he was ready to greet whatever lay beyond that threshold.

The door swung open with a grace that belied its weight. The scent of freshly cut flowers wafted in from the garden, mingling with the faint scent of leather and musk that clung to the visitors' clothes. There they were, three of them, their eyes widening slightly as they took in the sight of him. The sissy maid's smile never wavered as he stepped aside, ushering them in with a sweep of his hand. "Welcome to our humble abode," he trilled, his voice a soft melody that seemed to float in the air. "Mistress will be with you shortly."

The visitors, two men and a woman, exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of curiosity and something else that the sissy maid couldn't quite read. He didn't care; their opinions were as irrelevant as the dust he'd spent the morning banishing. His only concern was pleasing Mistress. He led them into the drawing room, where the plush sofas and velvet drapes whispered secrets of countless past gatherings. The crackling fireplace threw flickering shadows across the floor, and a decanter of fine wine waited on the sideboard, untouched until Mistress deemed it necessary.

The visitors seated themselves, their movements stiff with uncertainty. The sissy maid busied himself, arranging the cushions just so, straightening an already straight painting, anything to avoid their scrutinizing gazes. The silence was a heavy cloak that he longed to shed. But he knew better than to speak out of turn. So, he waited, his eyes downcast, his posture demure, his heart racing in anticipation of the main event.

Doubful maid

This sweet sissy maid looks doubful because she does not know how to please her Mistress that punishes her so frecuently for that. This maid does not know yet that her Mistress punish her because loves her a lot.

 

He was a sissy maid, working for the most feared and admired woman in town who is also his Mistress.

Every morning, the sissy maid would wake up with a knot in his stomach, not knowing what the day would bring. He would slip into nlack pantyhose and his maid's uniform, feeling the smooth fabric against his skin and the tightness of the corset that cinched in his waist and the high heels in his feet. As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he couldn't help but feel a mix of dread and arousal, knowing that he would soon face his Mistress's scrutiny.

His Mistress was a woman of high standards. Tall, with raven hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall of night, she had piercing blue eyes that could cut through the thickest fog of doubt. Her figure was statuesque, with curves that could make even the most stoic of men stumble over their words. Her voice was like velvet, but it could turn as sharp as a knife when she was displeased. Thhe sissy maid knew that today was going to be one of those days.

As he entered the grand hallway, the scent of leather and the faint echoes of her stiletto heels on the marble floors reached his ears. He paused for a moment, gathering his courage, then proceeded to the kitchen to start his daily duties. His heart raced as he worked, scrubbing floors and polishing silverware, his mind racing with the fear of making a mistake.

The sissy maid had always felt drawn to serving, but serving his Mistress was different. The punishments she doled out were both humiliating and exhilarating. He had become accustomed to the sting of the riding crop across his bare ass and the feel of the cold steel collar around his neck, but he still couldn't shake the doubt that plagued him. Was he truly good enough? Did she truly love him as she said she did? Or was he just a toy for her to play with?

Ready to please

This lovely sissy maid is ready to please her Mistress, and to do that she wears her most sexy outfit combining her most short black french maid dress with her black fishnet pantyhose and black high heels.

 

The sissy maid, once a man, now transformed into a vision of feminine allure. His broad shoulders had been bound tightly, his hair styled into luscious waves that cascaded down his back, and his face painted with a masterful touch that highlighted his now delicate features. He wore a short black French maid dress that hugged his newfound curves, the frills fluttering around his hips with every movement. Beneath it, a pair of black fishnet pantyhose clung to his legs, the stark contrast to his smooth, hairless skin creating an alluring illusion of both concealment and exposure.

The story the sissy maid is one of submission and desire. Dressed in his most tantalizing outfit, he awaits the pleasure and punishment of serving his Mistress. Each moment is a delicate dance of power and passion, a tapestry of emotions and sensations that will unfold as he tends to her every need, wearing the short black dress and fishnet pantyhose that she finds so irresistible. His transformation from a man to a maid is complete, and now he exists solely to satisfy her whims. The mansion is their stage, and their relationship a symphony of domination and adoration.

With a soft click-clack of his high heels on the polished marble floor, The sissy maid glided through the grand halls of the mansion. His heart raced with excitement and a hint of trepidation as he approached the library, where he knew his Mistress was waiting for him to please her.

Her stern voice echoed through the corridor, "Enter."

He pushed the heavy, oak door open and stepped inside, the scent of aged leather and ink enveloping him. His eyes fell upon her, lounging on an opulent velvet chaise, one leg crossed over the other, revealing the top of her stocking-clad thigh. She was a vision of power and beauty, her stern gaze unyielding yet filled with the promise of what was to come.

The sissy maid curtsied deeply, his dress riding up slightly, exposing more of the fishnet fabric. "Mistress, I am ready to serve," he said, his voice a breathy whisper that betrayed his eagerness.

Her eyes raked over him, a smirk playing on her lips as she took in the sight of his barely contained arousal. She pointed to the floor beside her. "Come here," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You know what I require of you."

He hurried over, kneeling at her side, his hands folded demurely in his lap. She reached down, her fingernails digging into his shoulder as she leaned closer, her hot breath tickling his ear. "You will do exactly as I say, understand?"

He nodded fervently, feeling a thrill of submission shoot through his body. "Yes, Mistress."

Her hand slid down his arm, her touch light and teasing, sending shivers down his spine. She lifted his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Good," she said, her voice a purr. "Now, let's begin."

The maid felt a surge of excitement as she began to detail his tasks for the evening. Each one was a testament to her dominance and his willingness to serve, to be the perfect plaything for her amusement. His role was clear, and he was eager to perform it to her satisfaction.

 

Sweet maid

Did you hear that sweetie? It is your Mistress calling you to please her, so, hurry up. Go before she will punishes you for being late.

 

"What on earth are you doing, sissy?"

The shrill voice pierced the quiet of the mansion's hallway, making the delicate chandeliers tremble in their crystalline embrace. The young sissy maid, clad in frills and a maid's apron, froze mid-step, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red than the crimson ribbon tied around his neck. He'd been caught lingering again, daydreaming about the day he wouldn't have to wear these ridiculous clothes or cater to the whims of his Mistress.

"Coming, Mistress!" he squealed, scurrying towards the source of the sound. His Mistress had taken to calling him "sweetie" or "sissy maid," as if to erase his true identity. The plush carpet muffled the clack of his high heels as he rushed to her side, his heart thumping in his chest like a drum in a marching band.

His Mistress stood tall in the arched doorway of the living room, her arms folded across her chest, her expression a perfect blend of boredom and irritation. She was a statuesque woman, dressed in a black latex catsuit that clung to her curves like a second skin, accentuating every sharp line and powerful muscle. Her hair was a cascade of raven locks that fell down to her waist, and her eyes were like emeralds set in a face of porcelain.

"You're late," she said flatly, her voice dripping with condescension. "I expect perfection from my little sissy maid, not dawdling."

The sissy maid's eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape, but the walls seemed to close in on him, the very air thick with the scent of her dominance. He knew better than to argue. "I'm sorry, Mistress," he said, his voice high and feminine, the result of months of practice. "I'll do better."

"You will," she said, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. 

 

Feel sexy

Feeling sexy

How sweet is to find a lovely sissy maid that feel sexy herself just to thinking in please her Mistress. With that in mind, this sweet sissy maid wears her sexiest outfit to make happy her Mistress. That is so cute.

 

The sissy maid's heart raced as he picked up the delicate porcelain tea set. He'd never felt so sexy in his life, and yet so utterly out of place. The short maid dress felt like it was going to fly up at any moment, revealing his lacy panties and stockings, and the heels were a torture device. But with each step, he grew more confident, feeling a strange thrill at the idea of serving his Mistress in such a way.

The sissy maid carefully poured the tea, trying not to spill a drop. The warm liquid swirled in the cup, the steam rising in delicate patterns that danced in the soft light of the room. He knelt before his Mistress presenting the tea with a trembling hand and a demure smile. "Your tea, Madam," he murmured, his voice softer now, more feminine.

His Mistress took the cup with a dramatic flourish. "Mm, just how I like it," she said, taking a sip and nodding her approval. "But remember, it's all about the details, sweetie. You've got to make it look like you're loving every second of it."

The sissy maid nodded, his eyes never leaving his Mistress's as he took her empty cup and set it back on the tray. "I'll make sure Mistress is happy," he promised, his voice filled with determination.

"I have no doubt you will," his Mistress said, patting his head.

The sissy maid felt a warm blush spread across his cheeks, the soft fabric of his bonnet brushing against them as he took in her praise. He knew that his transformation was complete when he saw the smirk on her face, a smirk that grew more pronounced with each little act of obedience he performed. The way she looked at him, as if she owned every inch of his being, only served to fuel the fire burning in his core. He craved to be her perfect servant, to satisfy every whim and desire she could possibly have.

Mistress stood up, the rustling of her silk dress echoing in the quiet room. She walked over to the large, ornate mirror hanging on the wall, her heels clicking sharply against the polished hardwood floor. The sissy maid followed, his eyes drawn to her reflection like a moth to a flame. She was breathtakingly beautiful, a stark contrast to his own frilly attire. The sway of her hips as she moved was mesmerizing, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of envy for the power she wielded so effortlessly.

Turning to face him, she placed a hand on her hip. "You're staring, darling," she said with a knowing smile. "Is there something you'd like to say?"

He gulped, feeling his throat constrict with nerves. "I just... I want to be everything you want me to be, Mistress," he stuttered out. "To make you proud."

Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer, her finger tracing the line of his jaw. "Oh, I know you do," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "And that's what makes you so deliciously tempting."

The sissy maid shivered, his body responding to her touch in ways he didn't fully understand. He knew he was supposed to be a servant, but the desire to serve went beyond just his duties. It was a part of him now, a need that he couldn't ignore.

"Good," she said, stepping back and giving him a once-over. "Now, let's see if you can handle the next task. I have guests arriving soon, and I expect everything to be perfect. Do you think you can handle it?"

The challenge in her voice was unmistakable, and the sissy maid's heart raced even faster. "Yes, Mistress," he replied, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. "I'll make sure everything is perfect."

With a nod of approval, she turned and glided out of the room, leaving him to his duties. He took a deep breath, the scent of her perfume lingering in the air like a siren's call. The excitement of the day ahead was palpable, and he knew that every moment would be a chance to prove his worth to her. And as he went about setting the table and preparing the house, he couldn't help but wonder what other delights she had in store for him. Each task was a test, and he was more than ready to pass with flying colors.

Happy maid

This sweet sissy maid looks so happy to please her Mistress. She loves her Mistress in demostrates it by serving her in every possible way.

 

 "You're late again, sissy," his Mistress's voice echoed through the corridor, her heels clicking impatiently against the marble floor.

"I'm sorry, Mistress. I got held up," the sissy maid replied meekly, his voice slightly shaking. He hurried into the grand foyer, his black pantyhose and maid dress swishing around his legs. His heart raced in his chest, his cheeks burning with a mix of fear and excitement. He'd never been late before, and he knew the consequences would be severe.

"Look at you, all flustered and disheveled. Did you even have time to put on your makeup properly?" hhis Mistress sneered, her eyes scanning him from head to toe. The sissy maid felt his stomach drop as he realized he'd forgotten to apply his lipstick that morning.

"I'll fix it right away, Mistress," he said, bowing his head in submission. He could feel the weight of her gaze on him, heavy and unyielding. "Is there anything else you need before I start my duties?"

His Mistress looked him up and down, a smirk playing on her lips. "Well, since you're already dressed for the part, I suppose we'll just have to make do," she said, her tone laced with amusement. The sissy maid felt a twinge of hope that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't too upset with him.

He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself, eager to prove his worth to the woman who owned him. He knew that serving her was his purpose, and he lived for the moments when she was pleased with his work. The anticipation of the day's tasks filled him with both dread and excitement. What new ways would she find to push him, to test his limits and make him grow as her devoted servant?

His Mistress snapped her fingers, and the sissy maid jumped to attention. "Follow me," she ordered, turning on her heel and striding towards the kitchen. He scurried after her, his high heels clacking against the floor in a frantic rhythm that matched his racing thoughts. As he worked alongside her, cleaning and serving, he felt a strange sense of belonging, a deep satisfaction in knowing that every action he took was for her benefit.

"Remember, sissy, you're here to serve," his Mistress said as she handed him the vacuum. Her eyes gleamed with something that looked almost like affection, but he knew better than to mistake it for anything other than a rare show of approval. He took the vacuum eagerly, his mind already racing with the thought of all the ways he could make her happy today.

And so, the day began in the grand estate, with the sissy maid ready to face whatever trials his Mistress had in store for him, all the while wearing his black pantyhose and heels with pride. He knew that no matter how difficult the tasks, he would do them with a smile, because serving his Mistress was what brought him joy.

 

Spoiled maid

Sometimes sweet siss maids like to behave like a spoiled girl, and that has a reason. Remember a good feminine sissy maid likes to be bound and gagged, spanked, by her Mistress. So, what better way to achieve that than being a brat girl?

 

The sissy maid's attire was always a topic of gossip among the townsfolk. He would strut around in white stockings with garter belts, a really short black maid dress that barely covered his round cheeks, and white gloves that stretched up to his elbows. The black high heels he wore clicked rhythmically against the floorboards, adding to the spectacle of his flamboyant sashay. His Mistress had a penchant for dressing him in such a fashion, which she believed highlighted his feminine grace, despite his protests of clumsiness.

His Mistress's stern voice could be heard, echoing through the grand halls as she instructed the sissy maid on the day's chores. He'd roll his eyes, exaggerating his huffs and puffs, feigning the effort required to lift a mere dust cloth. The truth was, he enjoyed the attention he received when he was a naughty sissy maid, the way his Mistress's gaze would narrow and her lips would purse in disapproval.

"You're such a clumsy sissy," hhis Mistress scolded, her eyes scanning the room for the next mess to be corrected. "If you don't pay attention, you'll be in for a world of trouble." Her words were like a secret promise to him, a thrilling invitation to push the boundaries. The sissy's heart fluttered with excitement at the prospect of what the day might bring. He knew that if he played his cards right, his Mistress's frustration would boil over, and she would give him the punishment he secretly craved.

The sissy maid pretended to trip over his own feet, the black high heels clacking dramatically against the floorboards. He giggled as he watched the feather duster fly out of his hand, the plumes scattered like a burst of black confetti across the gleaming marble tiles. The Mistress's expression grew sterner with each mishap, her eyes darkening with a mix of irritation and amusement. The tension grew palpable, thick like the scent of freshly baked cookies wafting from the kitchen.

Seizing the moment, the sissy maid decided to up the ante. He sauntered over to the ornate vase that adorned the sideboard, his hips swaying more than necessary. With a playful smirk, he pretended to dust it, his gloved fingers lingering dangerously close to its edge. His heart raced with the thrill of the game as he watched his Mistress's gaze dart between his face and the precarious vase. He could almost feel the heat of her stare as she anticipated his next move.

Finally, with a dramatic flourish, the sissy maid "accidentally" knocked the vase to the floor. It shattered into a hundred pieces, the sound reverberating through the hallway like a thunderclap. The Mistress's eyes widened, and she took a sharp breath, her hands clenching into fists at her side. The sissy maid's smile grew wider, his cheeks reddening with excitement. He knew what was coming next: the scolding, the chase, the inevitable punishment that would end with him bound and gagged, begging for more.

The Mistress stomped over to him, her own heels punctuating her furious steps. "You've gone too far this time," she growled, her voice low and menacing. "You're going to pay for your carelessness, you naughty sissy." Her words were like a sweet serenade to his ears, and he couldn't help but quiver in anticipation. The sissy maid took a step back, feigning fear, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his true feelings.

"I-I'm sorry, Mistress," he stuttered, his voice high-pitched and shaky, as if he were truly afraid of her wrath. "I didn't mean to break your precious vase." The Mistress's eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer, her breath hot on his face. He could smell the faint scent of her perfume, something floral and intoxicating that made his knees weak. "You know what happens to sissy maids who don't behave," she whispered, her voice a seductive mix of anger and promise.

Without another word, she grabbed his arm and yanked him towards the library, her grip surprisingly firm. His heart skipped a beat as he stumbled along, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. The library was where she kept her special collection of toys and devices, the ones she used to teach him his place when he was particularly naughty. The sissy maid felt his body respond to the thought, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink.

Once inside, she slammed the door shut and turned to face him. "Strip," she ordered, her voice like a whip cracking through the air. The sissy maid's eyes went wide, but he knew better than to protest. He began to fumble with the buttons of his dress, his trembling fingers struggling to keep up with his racing heart. As the dress fell away, revealing his lacy lingerie, he couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. This was what he wanted, what he had been working towards all day.

The Mistress's eyes raked over him, taking in every inch of his exposed flesh. She pointed out a particular object to him: a Saint Andrews cross, standing tall and imposing in the corner of the room. "You know what this is for," she said, her voice a mix of warning and excitement. "Now go and stand by it."

"Please Mistress, l promise that I will behave, please, the sissy maid whimpered, his voice a symphony of fear and arousal. He knew the Saint Andrews cross was a symbol of his Mistress's power, a place where she would tie him up and correct his brattiness. The cross gleamed in the dim light of the library, the leather restraints beckoning him with a mix of fear and desire. He shuffled over to it, the clack of his heels on the hardwood floor sounding like a death march.

The Mistress approached him, her steps deliberate and slow, enjoying the show of submission. She grabbed his chin firmly and tilted his head back, forcing him to meet her gaze. "You know the rules," she said, her eyes glinting with the promise of punishment. "You've been a bad sissy, and now you'll pay the price." Her words sent a shiver down his spine, and he nodded eagerly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

The Mistress secured his wrists to the upper restraints, stretching them, her movements precise and efficient. Thhen she continue with his ankles, leaving him spread-eagled and vulnerable.

"Now, for your gag," she mused, her eyes scanning the shelves filled with various gags. She selected a red ball gag with a shiny silver chain attached to it. The sissy maid's eyes grew wide, but his mouth watered at the sight. The Mistress knew just how much he liked the feeling of being silenced, the way it heightened his senses and made him focus solely on the sensations that would soon follow.

As she approached with the gag, the sissy maid couldn't help but whine, his body already trembling in anticipation. She chuckled darkly, the sound sending a thrill through his body. "Open wide," she ordered, her voice a low purr. He obeyed, allowing her to stuff the red ball into his mouth, the leather tasting faintly of mint from the last time it had been cleaned. She tightened the straps, ensuring the gag was secure and that his mouth was forced into a perfect 'O' of submission.

The Mistress stepped back, admiring her work. The sissy maid looked like a work of art, bound and gagged, his eyes pleading yet filled with excitement. She traced a finger along the side of his face, the sissy maid's skin tingling at her touch. "You will stay here meditating until you learn to behave like a good sissy," she said firmly, her voice a sweet caress that belied the sternness of her words. "Think about your actions and how you can serve me better."

With that, she turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

 

 A day in the yard

This sweet sissy maid is so happy to please his Mistress in the yard when she is with her new lover. The maid is always ready to do whatever his Mistress orders him, even to please to her lover just for the amusement of her Mistress.

 

"Oh, darling, isn't it just a gorgeous day for a little garden party?" his Mistress cooed, her voice as sugary sweet as the lemonade she was mixing. She stepped out of the French doors, her high heels clacking against the wooden floorboards before descending onto the plush emerald grass of the backyard.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as they fell upon her sissy maid, who was meticulously arranging the patio furniture. His short black dress billowed slightly in the breeze, the white pantyhose and black high heels adding an unexpected flair to the otherwise typical maid attire. He looked up, his cheeks flushing a rosy shade as he took in her radiant smile.

"Yes, Mistress," he replied, his voice as soft as the fabric of the dress that clung to his curvy form. "I've set up the table just as you instructed."

His Mistress's gaze swept over the pristine yard, the flowers in full bloom, their vibrant colors popping against the lush greenery. She nodded approvingly at the sissy maid's handiwork before her eyes drifted to the figure lounging by the pool. It was her new lover, a man with a chiseled jaw and a body that could make the angels weep with envy. He was shirtless, his muscular chest glistening with sunscreen and sweat, the water of the pool reflecting off his taut abs.

"Perfect, sweetie," she purred. "Now, go fetch my lover a cold towel and some more refreshments, won't you? And make sure to bend over just right when you serve him. I want him to get a good look at your...assets."

The sissy maid felt a mix of excitement and anxiety at the thought of serving her lover, especially under his Mistress's watchful eye. He knew she enjoyed flaunting him, turning his humiliation into a spectacle for her own amusement. But the thrill of serving her, of being used by her, was a heady cocktail he couldn't resist.

With a nod, the sissy maid scurried off to the kitchen, his heart racing in his chest. The coldness of the marble countertop was a stark contrast to the warmth of his skin as he filled a tray with a chilled pitcher of lemonade and a plate of freshly sliced fruit. He took a deep breath, straightened his dress, and made his way back outside.

As he approached his Mistress's lover, the sizzle of the BBQ filled the air, mixing with the faint scent of chlorine from the pool. Her lover looked up from his book, his eyes traveling up the sissy maid's legs, pausing at the round curves of his hips, and lingering on the way the dress clung to his chest. The sissy maid felt a thrill run through him, his nipples hardening against the fabric.

"Thank you, sissy," her lover said with a smirk, reaching for the towel.

His Mistress watched from the sidelines, her eyes glinting with satisfaction as the sissy maid bent over to serve. She knew exactly what her lover was thinking, and the power she had over both of them only fueled her desire to push the sissy maid further.

"Good boy," she murmured, patting the sissy maid's head gently. "Now, why don't you go wipe down the pool chairs? I'm sure my lover's friends will be here any minute."

The sissy maid's stomach flipped at the mention of guests. He hadn't realized there would be an audience for his servitude. But, as always, he knew better than to protest. With a quick curtsy, he picked up the wet wipes and made his way to the poolside chairs, his every move a deliberate dance of submission for his Mistress's entertainment.

The anticipation grew as the first of the guests began to arrive, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the air. The sissy maid felt both excited and terrified, knowing that the real fun was just about to begin.