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.
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment