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?
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?
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