Caught maid
Each morning, the sissy maid would rise with the sun and tiptoe into the back of his closet, where a treasure trove of frills, lace, and satin awaited him.
With trembling hands, he would unearth his favorite maid's outfit, complete with a short black dress, sheer pantyhose, and a pair of shiny high heels that clacked against the wooden floor like a tap dancer's dream.
The sun had reached its zenith, casting sharp rays through the window and illuminating the dust bunnies that had gathered in the corners of the room, serving as a stark reminder of the neglected chores. The sissy maid, lost in her own vanity, had forgotten the time. The once-innocent giggles had turned into nervous ones as the realization dawned that she had wasted the morning primping instead of performing her duties.
Her heart skipped a beat as the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed out the noon hour. She knew the mistress would be back from her morning errands any minute now. Panic set in, and she hastily tried to straighten up the mess she had made of her room. But the tangled web of stockings and the scattered makeup brushes only seemed to multiply under her frantic touch.
The sound of a key turning in the lock sent a cold shiver down her spine. The mistress, a stern figure in a crisp business suit, strode into the house, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the undone tasks. The sissy maid, caught red-handed, felt her face flush with a mix of excitement and dread. She had been so caught up in her own little world that she had forgotten the consequences of her actions.
Now, she faced the woman whose house she was supposed to maintain, whose orders she was meant to follow to the letter. But instead, she had chosen to indulge in her secret desires, leaving the chores untouched and the house in disarray. The mistress's gaze swept over the room, taking in every detail, before finally landing on the sissy maid. The silence was deafening as she approached, her heels clicking ominously with each step. The anticipation was palpable, thick like the scent of freshly baked bread that should have been wafting from the kitchen, but instead hung heavy with the tension of unfulfilled expectations.
The sissy maid stuttered an apology, her voice high-pitched and trembling. But the mistress was not in the mood for excuses. Her eyes darkened and she spoke in a firm, authoritative tone that left no room for argument. "You know what happens when you neglect your duties," she said, her words cutting through the silence like a knife through butter. The sissy maid nodded meekly, her eyes cast downward, unable to meet the mistress's gaze.
The mistress's hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of the sissy maid's hair, yanking her head back. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you!" she barked, her grip unyielding. The sissy maid's eyes watered from the pain, but she obeyed, staring up at the woman who held her fate in her hands. The mistress's eyes searched hers, looking for any hint of defiance or excuse, but all she found was fear and regret.
With a heavy sigh, the mistress released her and turned to the closet, her hand trailing over the neatly pressed dresses and starched aprons. She pulled out a leather riding crop, the kind that left welts and bruises, and turned back to face the sissy maid. "You've been a very naughty boy," she said, her voice softer but no less severe. "And naughty boys need to be punished." The sissy maid felt a strange mix of terror and excitement at the sight of the crop, her heart racing in her chest.
The mistress pointed to the center of the room, and the sissy maid knew what was expected of her. She stepped forward, her legs wobbling in the high heels she had chosen to wear, and bent over the chair that had been placed there, her round buttocks sticking out invitingly. The dress barely covered her, and she felt the cool air of the room kiss her exposed skin. The crop swished through the air, a whispered promise of pain, and she braced herself for the impact. But it never came.
Instead, the mistress leaned in close, her breath warm against the sissy maid's ear. "You want this, don't you?" she murmured, her voice a seductive purr that sent shivers down the sissy maid's spine. "You want to be punished for your laziness, for your disobedience." The sissy maid nodded, unable to speak, the words lodged in her throat like a piece of dry toast.
The mistress chuckled, her amusement a dark, thrilling sound. "Very well," she said, taking a step back. "Let us begin your education in the art of obedience." And with that, she raised the crop high, poised to bring it down on the tender flesh of the sissy maid's bottom. The sissy maid closed her eyes, waiting for the sting, the sharp reminder that she was a maid first and foremost, and that her desires were secondary to her duties.
The sun had reached its zenith, casting sharp rays through the window and illuminating the dust bunnies that had gathered in the corners of the room, serving as a stark reminder of the neglected chores. The sissy maid, lost in her own vanity, had forgotten the time. The once-innocent giggles had turned into nervous ones as the realization dawned that she had wasted the morning primping instead of performing her duties.
Her heart skipped a beat as the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed out the noon hour. She knew the mistress would be back from her morning errands any minute now. Panic set in, and she hastily tried to straighten up the mess she had made of her room. But the tangled web of stockings and the scattered makeup brushes only seemed to multiply under her frantic touch.
The sound of a key turning in the lock sent a cold shiver down her spine. The mistress, a stern figure in a crisp business suit, strode into the house, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the undone tasks. The sissy maid, caught red-handed, felt her face flush with a mix of excitement and dread. She had been so caught up in her own little world that she had forgotten the consequences of her actions.
Now, she faced the woman whose house she was supposed to maintain, whose orders she was meant to follow to the letter. But instead, she had chosen to indulge in her secret desires, leaving the chores untouched and the house in disarray. The mistress's gaze swept over the room, taking in every detail, before finally landing on the sissy maid. The silence was deafening as she approached, her heels clicking ominously with each step. The anticipation was palpable, thick like the scent of freshly baked bread that should have been wafting from the kitchen, but instead hung heavy with the tension of unfulfilled expectations.
The sissy maid stuttered an apology, her voice high-pitched and trembling. But the mistress was not in the mood for excuses. Her eyes darkened and she spoke in a firm, authoritative tone that left no room for argument. "You know what happens when you neglect your duties," she said, her words cutting through the silence like a knife through butter. The sissy maid nodded meekly, her eyes cast downward, unable to meet the mistress's gaze.
The mistress's hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of the sissy maid's hair, yanking her head back. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you!" she barked, her grip unyielding. The sissy maid's eyes watered from the pain, but she obeyed, staring up at the woman who held her fate in her hands. The mistress's eyes searched hers, looking for any hint of defiance or excuse, but all she found was fear and regret.
With a heavy sigh, the mistress released her and turned to the closet, her hand trailing over the neatly pressed dresses and starched aprons. She pulled out a leather riding crop, the kind that left welts and bruises, and turned back to face the sissy maid. "You've been a very naughty boy," she said, her voice softer but no less severe. "And naughty boys need to be punished." The sissy maid felt a strange mix of terror and excitement at the sight of the crop, her heart racing in her chest.
The mistress pointed to the center of the room, and the sissy maid knew what was expected of her. She stepped forward, her legs wobbling in the high heels she had chosen to wear, and bent over the chair that had been placed there, her round buttocks sticking out invitingly. The dress barely covered her, and she felt the cool air of the room kiss her exposed skin. The crop swished through the air, a whispered promise of pain, and she braced herself for the impact. But it never came.
Instead, the mistress leaned in close, her breath warm against the sissy maid's ear. "You want this, don't you?" she murmured, her voice a seductive purr that sent shivers down the sissy maid's spine. "You want to be punished for your laziness, for your disobedience." The sissy maid nodded, unable to speak, the words lodged in her throat like a piece of dry toast.
The mistress chuckled, her amusement a dark, thrilling sound. "Very well," she said, taking a step back. "Let us begin your education in the art of obedience." And with that, she raised the crop high, poised to bring it down on the tender flesh of the sissy maid's bottom. The sissy maid closed her eyes, waiting for the sting, the sharp reminder that she was a maid first and foremost, and that her desires were secondary to her duties.
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