Happy maid

"You are now my sissy maid," his Mistress declared, her voice firm and unwavering. "Your life here will be one of service and obedience. Do you understand?"

 

The sissy maid breath hitched in his throat. This was it, the moment he had been longing for. He nodded vigorously. "Yes, Mistress," he murmured.

His Mistress's smile grew wider, and she clapped her hands together with glee. "Excellent," she said. "Then let's begin your transformation."

The next few hours passed in a whirlwind of fabric and lace, as the sissy maid was meticulously dressed in his new attire. Each piece felt like a part of him was being peeled away, replaced by something softer, more feminine. He could feel the weight of the pantyhose compressing his legs, the constriction of the corset around his waist, and the unsteadiness of the high heels beneath his feet. But with every new addition to his outfit, his excitement grew.

When he was fully dressed, his Mistress stood back to admire her handiwork. He looked at his reflection in the full-length mirror, hardly recognizing the person staring back at him. Gone was the rough exterior of a leather-clad biker, replaced by a delicate, submissive sissy maid.

"You look perfect," his Mistress purred, her eyes raking over him. "Now, let's get you to work."

The sound of her heels clacking on the marble floor was like a gunshot in the silent room as she led him out of the closet and into the world of the mansion. Thhe siss maid's heart thudded in his chest, his palms sweaty against the lace of his new apron. He felt exposed and vulnerable, yet exhilarated by the thrill of his new identity.