A Whole New Life- Part1

I awake with a start, look at the alarm clock and realize it is only 4 a.m. Disoriented I try to remember where I am. Then everything comes flooding back, overwhelming my mind. "Oh my God," I think as I remember last night. And not just last night -- the "wedding" -- but the last four months.

Let me start at the beginning. Or at least the moment my life changed forever. My wife, Emily, and I had been married for a little over a year. Over that time we had tried some games to spice up our sex life. They were always fun but nothing struck a chord like her idea to treat me like a maid for a weekend. I was a little reluctant but went along. After all, she had always been willing to try new things. Turnabout is fair play, isn't it?

I worked from home in an office I had set up. Emily was a lawyer with a small firm.

All day Friday I waited, nervously wondering what she had in mind for the weekend. At 3 p.m. the doorbell rang and I opened the door to find the UPS man waiting with a big box. I signed for it and saw the package was addressed to me.

I had no clue what it could be. I opened the box and saw several gift-wrapped packages inside along with an envelope with my wife's handwriting on it. Inside the envelope I found a long letter addressed to "My darling little sissy maid" explaining that my weekend as a maid was starting a little early. I was to open the packages in the order they were marked (I looked and saw each was numbered).

"My darling little sissy maid." The words ran through my head. I had never imagined being referred to that way. And by my beautiful wife! The letter ended with a reminder that for the weekend I was her servant and that she expected total obedience at all times. She closed with the instruction that she was to be referred to as "Miss Emily" or "Miss" at all times.
My mind was racing as I realized I had less than 3 hours until she would be home. I didn't want to disappoint her.

I took the big box to the bedroom and opened the package marked with a pink No. 1. Inside was a jar of Nair and a note saying to use it everywhere below my neck except for a small triangle above my cock. I can't say I expected this from her at all. But almost in a daze I stripped, took a shower and then spread the cream on. Soon enough I saw my soft, blonde body hair going down the drain.

I stepped out of the shower and dried my body. As I entered the bedroom to get package No. 2, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Was that really me? I looked so small. Granted, I am short at barely 5'6 on tip-toes and slender at 140 pounds (I have since lost seven pounds) but still I never thought of myself as feminine. Did others? Is this what Emily saw?

With a start I realized I was wasting time. I opened the second package and found a pair of panties. Black with white and black ruffles. No way I could pretend they were sexy men's briefs. I slipped them on. My cock jumped at the feel of the material. No way I like this, I told myself. I glanced in the mirror. My small cock (barely four inches erect) was barely visible in the ruffled panties.

I went through the rest of the boxes. I found a garter belt and stockings both in black. I struggled to get the stockings on (making sure not to tear them as her note admonished). There was a body shaper. I could barely breathe with that on.

Then there was the big box. It wasn't hard to figure what it would be. A maid's dress, complete with petticoats and frilly apron. I put it on. I wondered to myself if I was insane. Why would a man do this? Still, I kept going. I did not want to disappoint her.

The next-to-last-box was a pair of black pumps with two-inch heels. I put them on. They pinched my feet and I wobbled as I stood. Very strange. The last package was small. A tube of pink sparkly lip gloss like a teenager would wear.

I went to the mirror and put it on. I made a mess of it but after a few tries I thought it was passable. In the mirror I looked ridiculous. A man wearing lip gloss with the body of a woman.

I looked at the clock and realized I had 5 minutes to clean up the boxes and wait by the front door.

As I waited I started shaking. What was I doing? Would she approve? Why do I want her approval of me dressed as a maid? I heard her car drive up.

When I heard her car pull into the driveway my throat went dry and my heart started to pound. "My God," I thought. My wife is going to see me dressed like a maid. I felt my cheeks flush and I wanted to run and hide. But before I could even move I heard the key in the lock and the door opened.

I looked at Emily's (or should say Miss Emily's) eyes and quickly looked down, afraid, embarrassed. I heard a soft laugh come from her as she closed the door. "Well, well, what have we here?" she said. I started to stammer a reply when she said, "Quiet, sissy."

I had never heard such a cold, authoritative tone from my wife. I was still staring at her shoes as she began to circle me. Appraising me like she was looking at a horse she wanted to purchase. Miss Emily said, "Not bad for a first time. I wasn't sure what I'd find when I got home. But I guess this really does suit you."

My mind was racing as I felt her hand grab my chin and pull it up. She was staring at me. Almost smirking. "Not bad on the lip gloss, either. Tell me sissy, how long did it take you to get it to look so good?" she asked.

My throat was dry as I started to speak "I-I-I don't know Emily. Nine or ten times," I said.

Slapppp. My cheek stung from the force of her slapping. "It's Miss Emily. I expect you to be able to follow simple instructions. Surely you are not that stupid, are you?"

"N-N-N-o, Miss Emily, Please forgive me," I said. Forgive me? How could I be asking for forgiveness. My mind reeled.

"We will discuss your disrespect later, sissy," she said. "Take my coat and hang it up. And then get me a glass of wine. I'll be in the den. Hurry."

"Yes, Miss Emily," I said. I removed her coat. Realizing for the first time that she was wearing an elegant pantsuit. I was in a skirt. It furthered my feeling of embarrassment. I entered the den with a glass of her favorite Cabernet on a tray.

I approached her chair. She took the wine without a word. I stood there unsure what to do, My feet were aching in the heels. Even my back was feeling a little sore. I watched her as she sipped the wine.

Finally, she turned to look at me. "Obviously, you have read my note and realize that the No. 1 rule for this weekend is obedience. Of course, there are other rules. First, this weekend you are my servant. At all times you will be treated as such and I expect you to act accordingly. I know it will not be easy for you, but your comfort is immaterial to me. Is that clear, sissy?" she asked.

"Y-Y-Yes, Miss Emily, I understand," I replied.

"Just to be clear, servants do not speak unless spoken to and they never sit in the presence of their betters unless told to do so. I will not hesitate to punish you for any mistakes, my little sissy maid," she said. "Now kneel by my feet."

She sounded so stern, serious. I complied. She lifted her foot so that it was in front of my face. The sole of her shoe was filthy. I started, nervously. "When a superior raises a shoe or foot to your face you are to kiss it and then lick it, sissy," I heard her say.

That tone again. And she keeps calling me sissy. I swallowed hard and kissed the shoe. I could feel grit on my lips. My cheeks flushed. Burning. "Lick it clean," I heard her order.

Despite my feeling of revulsion I did it. When she pulled the shoes from my face I felt a mixture of humiliation and disappointment. Soon enough I was cleaning the other shoe.

After cleaning it thoroughly, she pulled her shoe away. I could feel the dirt on my tongue. "Savor that taste, sissy. You should feel fortunate to be allowed to swallow your Superior's dirt," she said without a bit of humor in her voice.

"Stand up," she barked. I did. She stood, telling me to follow her upstairs. I helped her change, hanging her clothes carefully. When she was undressed she told me to lie face up on the bed. I had thoughts of great sex in my mind. The material of the panties and other feminine clothes, and maybe even the humiliation, had me in heat. I could not have been more wrong about what she had in mind.

Naked she straddled my neck. Looking down, she smirked. "Comfortable. sissy? I hope so because I have been looking forward to this. Instead of that tiny dicklette of yours I am going to get some real satisfaction," she said.

With that she moved up and quickly lowered her pussy to my mouth, smothering me. It was soaked. I had never seen her so excited. I had no choice but to lick. My face was covered with her juices. She was moaning. Bouncing roughly on my face. She rode my face for two orgasms like I had never seen her have.

I wanted to cum, too. But when she was done she hopped off and walked to the bathroom. I laid on the bed. Exhausted. Excited. Humiliated. She came back into the bedroom dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt. "What the hell do you think you are doing, sissy? Stand up! Can't you remember the simplest rules? You act like a five-year-old," she barked.

I jumped to my feet. "Wash your face, fix your lip gloss, it’s a mess, and meet me downstairs," she ordered.

In the bathroom I looked at my face. Her dried juices everywhere. The lip gloss down to a faint trace. I stared in shock. I wondered what I had gotten myself into. I couldn't believe the way my wife was talking to me. "Dicklette?" She had never made any comments like that. And was I supposed to read her mind. She told me to lie down. How was I to know I could stand up. This was confusing!

I walked down the stairs in a daze. My feet ached from the women's shoes and now my jaw ached from licking Miss Emily while she sat on my face. I was trying to understand what was happening as I entered the kitchen, where I found Miss Emily waiting. Even in my mind I was calling her by that proper name. What was going on?

I stopped when I saw her. Seeing her in her comfortable washed out red sweats and an olive green T-shirt made my position even more evident. I could feel the nylon stockings against my hairless legs and hear the rustle of the petticoats. Petticoats? I felt so vulnerable and small.

I looked at her face and the stern gaze instantly made me avert my eyes. I found myself staring at Miss Emily's slippers. Flats. That made me even more aware of the uncomfortable heels I was wearing. I stood still. Waiting. Nervous.

"I'm hungry, sissy," she said, with a hint of ice in her voice. I felt defensive. When was I supposed to make her dinner, I wondered. "There's a steak for you to cook and I want a salad and some asparagus," she said. "And to be clear, you may have eat a salad in the kitchen after you have served me. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Miss Emily," I heard myself say. Without another word she left the kitchen. I started preparing dinner. My mind consumed with wonder at how I ended up dressed like a maid in the kitchen. Sure, we had tried other scenes to spice up our sex life. But this seemed different.

My wife was so stern, serious. She had never talked to me like that. Surely it was just for the weekend. For fun. No harm in that.

Dinner was ready. I nervously went to the den. Remembering that I was not speak unless spoken to, I walked in and waited. "Well, what is it?" Miss Emily snapped. "Cat got your tongue?"

"D-d-d-dinner is ready Miss Emily," I stammered. My mind raced, wondering what I had done wrong.

"It’s about time, sissy. I'm starved," She said.

After she was seated in the dining room, I served Miss Emily her dinner. My stomach was growling. And I was envious of her steak and asparagus. When she was finished I was ordered to eat my dinner, wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen. "That means dishes dried and put away. I will not abide a half-done job, sissy," she said.
I went in to the kitchen; before I cleaned up I ate my salad. I felt so alone. I realized I had better not dawdle. I washed and dried the dishes and scrubbed the counter. I then returned to the den.

"Come her, sissy," Miss Emily said. I walked over to her chair, wondering why she had to call me 'sissy' so often. I waited. She sipped her wine.

"I told you earlier that we would discuss your disrespect to me. I know this is new to you, but that is no excuse. Obedience and respect are what I expect and demand. After all, how else should a servant act?" she said in that cold tone she was using. I looked at my feet, my throat dry.

"So that you remember this lesson, you will be punished," she said. "And I promise it will hurt YOU more than me." She laughed.

She stood up and ordered me to bend over the back of the chair. I felt her lift my skirt and petticoats. My ruffled panties were pulled to mid-thigh. I was shaking. "Don't move," she said. I heard her leave the room and then return a few minutes later.

"Remember this, sissy boy," she said showing me a leather, studded paddle we had used when she played submissive to me. "Yes, Miss."

"I never really liked it much. And besides I don't think you really knew how to use it," she said. "For this first offense I think it best to be quite severe. You need to understand that I am serious, sissy. You will get 25 whacks. I want to hear you count each one. If you forget I will start over. Got it, sissy?"

"Y-Y-Yes," I replied.

"What was that? Again you show disrespect to your superior. Make it 35," she said with ice dripping from her voice.

Then the paddling started. I was sobbing by number eight. How could she hit so hard? Did she hate me? My mind swirled as my butt was burning. Fortunately, I counted them all.

When she was finished she walked around to my face. "Stand up, sissy," she said, She brought the paddle to my face. Remembering her filthy shoes, I kissed it. "There may be some hope for you yet, sissy," she said. "Now, off to the corner till I call for you.."

I started to pull up my panties. "STOP!  Leave those down, sissy. You don't breathe unless I say it's OK," she said. Slappp. I felt the sting on my red-hot butt. Off to the corner I went. Feeling like a five-year-old.

Standing in the corner I felt so humiliated. Alone. My feet hurt, my butt was on fire and now my back was starting to ache. I felt like crying but held the tears back. "Maybe I should quit this game," I thought. But I didn't want to disappoint her. Disappoint her? After the way she paddled me and treated me like nothing more than a hired servant? Still I stayed facing the corner.

It seemed like hours before Miss Emily called out, "Sissy come here, NOW." I turned to walk toward the chair where she sat. I felt clumsy with the heels on and all the aches. I saw by the clock it was 8:30. I had been in the corner half an hour.

As I approached, she said "Kneel." I did. Grateful to be off my feet. Grateful to be kneeling? Strange to be thinking that. Miss Emily brought her foot in front of my face. I wasn't going to risk another paddling. I kissed the sole of her slipper. "Lick," I heard. I did. At least it wasn't filthy like her shoes had been.

Finally, she lowered her foot. I sat staring at her feet, afraid to look up. "Look at me sissy," I heard through my daze. She was grinning, or maybe it was a smirk. "Tell me, sissy, what did you learn from your punishment time?" she asked.

My throat was dry. I stammered, unsure what to say. "M-M-M-iss Emily. I-I-I learned that I must be all respectful and obedient to my superiors at all times," I said. Where did that come from? I dropped my head. Ashamed. To my surprise, I heard her say, "Very good, sissy. I am proud of you. I hope you remember your lesson." She patted my head like I was a puppy.

I felt my cheeks flush. Even that strange praise made me feel better. Miss Emily stood up and I saw her remove her sweatpants. She pushed my shoulders and said, "On your back, sissy boy." Soon I was again licking her sopping pussy, feeling her thighs around my head. I could feel my cock growing but was unable to do anything about it.

Finally, Miss Emily stood. "Not bad. You just might be useful for sex after all," she said with a laugh.

She ordered me to stand. With my two-inch heels and her in slippers I realized I was a little taller than her. Yet she was certainly in control.

"Sissy, I noticed you don't walk so well in heels. You need to practice. No sense having a maid that clomps around pretending to be a male," she said. She then gave me instructions on how to walk. How to walk? I'm 28. I know how to walk, I thought. Small steps. One foot in front of the other. Swing the hips in a rolling manner. Keep the arms up, wrists limp, palms upturned.

Over and over. Back and forth. For an hour. When I messed up she would get angry. A few times she slapped my face. Finally she seemed pleased. Or at least she didn't slap me or seem so angry.

At 10 p.m., she said, "OK sissy, that's enough. You have a long day tomorrow. It's your bedtime."

I thought about protesting. In bed at 10? But before I did I felt the burning on my butt and said, "Yes, Miss Emily," and followed her upstairs.

As I followed Miss Emily up the stairs, I was aware of how I was holding my arms, keeping my wrists limp. I was following behind her as I tried to make sure I didn't forget how to walk. I could still feel that paddle on my butt and I didn't want to give her a reason to punish me again. When Miss Emily got to the top of the stairs she waited. When I finally made it to the top I turned and headed into our bedroom.

"And where do you think you are going, sissy?" I heard her bark. I turned and said, "Miss Emily I was going to bed as you ordered," I said. My mind raced. What had I done wrong? I was following her command.

As soon as the words left my mouth I felt tension in the air as she stared at me, anger flashing in her blue eyes. Then, to my surprise, she burst out laughing. She tried to say something but couldn't, she was laughing so hard. Finally, she composed herself. "You didn't actually think a servant would sleep in the same room as the lady of the house, did you, sissy?" she said.

I felt like a five-year-old and wished I could hide. "Please forgive me, Miss Emily. I j-j-ust thought that's what you wanted," I said, almost in a whisper. I couldn't even look her in the eye. I stared at those slippers again.

I heard her chuckle. "It's OK, sissy. It amused me so much that you would think you belonged in my bedroom that I won't even punish you. This time, anyway," she said. "Now come along. You sleep in the maid's room."

I followed her down the hall to the guest bedroom. I rarely went inside and had no clue she had made some changes. Stepping inside the room looked basically the same. But the sheets and bedding were all done in pink the lace around the edges. There were pink roses in a vase on the bureau.

"I hope you like it, sissy," she said. "I wanted make sure you didn't forget your new position. Now then, let's get you ready for bed. First, I want you to strip."

I complied. Totally embarrassed. It dawned on me that my body was hairless. She hadn't seen that. That made me feel even smaller. As I undressed, Miss Emily admonished me to fold my clothes neatly and hang the maid's uniform in the closet. I was shocked to see three other uniforms hanging there. They were plainer than the one I wore today. Two were black and one was pink. Seeing them made my throat go dry.

When I was naked, Miss Emily told me to stand with my hands clasped behind my head. "Very cute, sissy," she clucked. "I bet you like feeling all smooth." I heard another chuckle. I say heard because I was too embarrassed to do anything but stare at the floor as she circled me. "Follow me, sissy," she ordered.

I was led into the bathroom, where I brushed my teeth washed up and was shown how to remove the lip gloss. "Wow your butt is really red. That must hurt," Miss Emily said. Slapppp. I yelped as I felt her hand land on my butt. Another chuckle rang in my ears. "Bend over the sink, sissy. I have something that might help," she said.

Nervously I did as told. I was surprised to feel her hands rubbing my welts with some kind of cool cream. Instantly, my cock started to get hard. My balls ached. Between licking her and the smooth clothes I had been aroused for hours with no relief. I felt her step away. A moan escaped my lips.

"Turn around," she barked. I did as told. Her gaze lowered to my cock. "Look at thing. Even hard, if you can call it that, it's barely a dicklette," she said. "And it's all drippy. Yuck. I don't think it needs to be said, but sissies are not allowed to cum without permission. Understand?"

I was in shock. Staring at the ground I mumbled, "Yes, Miss Emily."

"Speak up," she said back to that cold, stern tone.

"Yes, Miss Emily, I understand."

"Understand what, sissy?"

"Miss Emily, I understand I am not allowed to cum without your permission."

"Such a good little sissy," she answered in atone usually reserved for children or dogs.

Somehow even that praise seemed better than being yelled at or punished. I followed her back to the bedroom She opened a bureau drawer and I watched her remove a pair of peach-colored panties with ruffles. "Put these on, sissy. It's bedtime," she said.

I walked over and put the panties on. I felt ridiculous. Next, I watched as she reached into the drawer and took out a lacy nightgown that matched the panties. She put it over my head. I wanted to run away. But I didn't. As she smoothed it down I saw it fall to mid-thigh. Lacy straps hung on my shoulders.  Staring down I noticed little white flowers sewn around the hem, the bodice and on the shoulder straps.

"Ohhh. Aren't you a little cutie," Miss Emily said. I could hear a laugh in her voice. "Now hop into bed."

I pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. Miss Emily pulled the covers up and tucked me in. Again, I felt like I was five. I inhaled. I noticed the sheets and pillows smelled like flowers.

"You have a big day tomorrow, sissy," Miss Emily said. "I have set your alarm. Shower and dress in one of the plain black uniforms. Your undergarments are in the top bureau drawer. After you are dressed you may make breakfast in the kitchen. I want breakfast in bed at 10 a.m., unless I call for you earlier.

"I will leave further instructions for you in the kitchen. Sweet dreams, little sissy. And remember, don't touch that little dicklette. That would make Me very angry."

She leaned down with an indulgent smile and kissed my forehead. I was in shock as she turned off the light and closed the door as she left the room. I smelled the flowery scent with every breath and felt the lacy nightgown rubbing my smooth body. I tried to organize my thought. Understand how this had happened. What it meant. I couldn't make sense of it.

I fell into a deep sleep.

2. Emily’s Thoughts

Emily Jackson closed the door to the maid's room and let out a sigh. It had been quite an evening and she didn't know quite what to think. She had always had fun trying out different role play situations with her husband, but something was different this time. She wasn't quite sure what.

When she first stumbled into the "Sissy Maids" chat room on AOL she wasn't sure what it was all about. She was shocked at how she was bombarded by IMs from men who said they wanted to be her maid. It made her laugh but she didn't think much about it.

But a few nights later she returned. That second time she started chatting with a woman named Sharon who said her husband loved being a maid for her. They got to talking and Emily was intrigued, although she also thought that Sharon's husband must not be much of a man.

After some e-mail correspondence with Sharon, Emily began to think it might be fun to have a maid for a weekend. She doubted her husband with go along with it, but it was her turn to choose a role play scenario, so why not ask.

Now, she didn't know what to think. She was somewhat surprised to come home from work and find Dan waiting as she had instructed. She had never considered how really feminine he could be.

As the night progressed, she found herself enjoying her newfound power. Not that her husband was ever macho or controlling. But she began to realize that he was truly frightened that he would displease her. And for some reason she enjoyed seeing him that way.

But she was conflicted. She truly loved Dan, and didn't want to hurt him. Was he mad at her? She smiled to herself. If he was angry he would have ended the game. She thought of the way he immediately licked her slipper just because she ordered it. That made her chuckle out loud.

And she remembered riding his face. No worries about his small cock shooting early. She found herself wondering how he would react in the morning when he realized he would spend the day really working as a maid. For her, this wasn't just about sex. It was a chance to have a spotless house, something she had little time for with her demanding job.

Despite her ambivalence, Emily smiled and decided to get some sleep. After all, who knew exactly what Saturday would bring.

3. The Weekend Continues

The clanging of the alarm jolted me awake. Stunned, I tried to figure out where I am. Then it hit me. I felt the silky fabric of the panties and the lacy nightie. I reached for my twitching cock. I stop. I could hear Miss Emily's order not to cum. I could hear her mocking word "dicklette." Even alone I felt my cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

A glance at the clock and I saw it was only 6:30. The room was still dark. Is she kidding? It's Saturday! A groan escaped my lips. But almost against my will I got out bed and head for the bathroom. My feet ache. My back is sore and my butt stings. I take my nightie off and slip the panties down my legs. I carefully fold them. No sense giving her a reason to punish me, I think.

Standing under the warm water I began to wake up. I reached for the soap, but all I found is some body wash. The bottle said "mango scent." With no choice I used it. I inhaled the feminine fragrance. I was surprised and then found my self wondering how I could be with all that had happened in less than a day. After all, didn't I sleep on pink sheets sprayed with a flower fragrance? Time to wash my hair. The shampoo bottle was labeled "tropical wave." A picture of a blonde on a beach looked back at me. Sigh. I lathered it into my blond hair. It was not too long but at that time did come over my ears. I inhaled the fragrance. It really did remind me of the beach. I rinsed the shampoo out and turn the water off.

After drying myself (the towels were pink, what else?), I walked to the bureau in the bedroom. In the drawer I found my underwear for the day. A bodyshaper, ruffled panties, stockings and a garter belt. I put the garments on. In the closet I pulled one of the black maid's dresses from its hanger and put it on. It was plain compared to the frilly outfit I wore last night. Last came the shoes I wore the night before. Already they pinched my feet. As I walked to the bedroom door I remembered the lip gloss. Remember the lip gloss? What am was I thinking. In the bathroom mirror I applied the pink gloss. It only took me four tries to get it looking acceptable.

In the kitchen I found a pink envelope addressed "Sissy Maid," in Miss Emily's handwriting. Inside a note informs me that I may eat breakfast -- one piece of toast, one egg scrambled, juice and one cup of coffee. It also informs me to start the laundry as it has been piling up for the last ten days. Ten days?! I think. It will take me all day. What was she thinking? I felt like crying, but again held the tears back.

The rest of the note included Miss Emily's breakfast menu -- three strips of bacon, an English muffin, two eggs scrambled, fresh squeezed orange juice and coffee. Reading her menu made me hungry. I had eaten just a salad since lunch yesterday. The note concluded with instructions to scrub the kitchen floor with the brush and pail in the utility closet. My heart sank.

I decided to start the laundry before I made my own breakfast. The laundry room was a disaster. Clothes everywhere. It took me 15 minutes just to sort them. The washer started, I returned to the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator I found a note on a carton of orange juice. "This is for you, sissy."  I had been planning to have some of the fresh juice I was to make for Miss Emily.

I made my breakfast. It looked so pitiful on the plate. After finishing it, I was still starving. "This is so unfair," I thought. I wanted to scream. But then I was afraid I would wake her. I don't think she'd be happy.
 
 I washed my breakfast dishes and made her orange juice. The clock read 8 a.m. Most Saturdays I'd be fast asleep. I sighed. So much work to do. I squeezed the juice for Miss Emily and when I finished I remembered the laundry. I changed the loads and went to scrub the floor.

In the pail in the closet I found a small brush and some pink knee pads. Oh, No! She expected to me use this tiny brush? I felt so angry and frustrated. But what choice did I have. Soon enough I was scrubbing the floor, I had never realized it was so big. It was an hour later when I finally had finished. I was dead tired. New aches were added to yesterday's.

As I walked to the utility sink near the washer and dryer to empty the bucket I realized how sore I was. My knees aches despite having worn the pink kneepads. My arms, back and shoulders were stiff. And it was only a little after 9 a.m. "This is so unfair," I thought. But then I thought of Miss Emily' instructions and the paddling I received the night before and realized I had better not be late with her breakfast.

After emptying the bucket and rinsing the brush (how could the floor had it made so filthy, I wondered), I changed the laundry loads. After folding the first load, I started to make her breakfast. This was much easier. I had always been able to cook, at least the basic things. When everything was ready, I looked at the clock and saw I had five minutes. I retrieved a pretty tray from the cupboard and carefully placed the coffee, juice, toast, bacon and eggs on it. My stomach growled as I smelled the aroma.

I carefully walked up the stairs. I knew Miss Emily would not be pleased if I spilled her breakfast. At the top of the stairs, I had an idea. I headed to my bedroom ("my bedroom?" I thought. I had been there one night and was thinking that way.)  In the room I took one of the roses from the vase on the dresser and placed it on the breakfast tray.

I approached her bedroom door. As I knocked I was nervous; wondering if she would be pleased or angry for some reason. "You may enter, sissy," Miss Emily called out.

I opened the door. I saw her smile. "Bring my breakfast, sissy," she said. I walked to the bed and the tray down on her nightstand. "It looks good, sissy," she said.

I smiled and said, "Thank you, Miss Emily." I was wondering why she always called me sissy. It made me feel so small.

As I looked at her face, I saw anger flash in her eyes as her smile disappeared. "You look like something the cat dragged in," she said. "Your hair is a mess, your uniform is stained and you are wearing a scrub woman's knee pads. I am disgusted."

I felt like crying. I tried to reply, "I-I-I-m s-s-s-orry, Miss Emily. I scrubbed the floor and ..."

"QUIET," she barked. I was scared. Shaking. Speechless. "We will discuss the disrespect later. Go clean up and put on your other black work uniform. Be quick, sissy." She waved her hand as if to dismiss me.

I left. The tears ready to flow. I somehow kept them in.

4. Emily Reflects
 
As the door to her bedroom closed, Emily Jackson took a sip of coffee and pondered what had just happened. Part of her could not believe how truly angry she had become when she saw  the unkempt appearance of her husband. She wondered if he was mad at her for treating him that way.

As she ate her breakfast, though, a feeling of contentment came over her. The breakfast was good. And she hadn't even had to leave her bed to enjoy it. "i certainly could get used to this," she thought.

Thinking about his messy appearance made Emily realize that he must have really scrubbed the kitchen floor. This thought pleased her. She could picture him on his hands and knees with that little brush she had bought. The sissy really was following her orders. And she had been sleeping the whole time.

The image of Dan stammering an apology made her chuckle out loud. She had never seen him so nervous and scared and, for some reason she could not understand, it made her smile. It dawned on her that if he was that nervous about displeasing her, she probably would not have much trouble the rest of the day. It seemed just a look of anger would keep him in line.

This thought gave her pause. She had never acted this way with anyone, let alone her husband. She did not want to hurt him, but felt some irresistible force pulling her along. And, she reasoned, Dan certainly did not even protest much. Sure he looked like he might cry, but he hadn't challenged her authority.

He even meekly accepted a severe paddling and corner time. Corner time! Like a five-year-old. That made her laugh out loud.

Just then, she heard a knock on the door.

5. The Weekend Continues

As I stood outside Miss Emily's door waiting for her to answer my neck I noticed that my hands were trembling. Her tone had been so harsh when she sent me to clean up I was afraid she was going to hit me. How could I have been so wrong? When she first saw the breakfast tray she seemed so pleased. But that stern, cold look had returned in a blink of an eye. Now I wondered what she would say.

"Enter, sissy," I heard Miss Emily call. I walked in, conscious of keeping my wrists limp and my hips swaying the way she had drilled me the night before. I approached her bed slowly. "I-I-I-m s-s-s-orry, Miss ..." I said, barely able to look her in the eye. Immediately the anger flashed. "SHUSH," she ordered and raised her hand in a dismissive manner. "Didn't I tell you we would discuss your disrespect later?" She rolled her eyes and continued. "Now, sissy, no more of your silly chattering. Take the dishes away. Get me more coffee and the newspaper." With that she waved her hand again as she had before.

I was in shock as I left the room. How could she not even note the fresh uniform I had put on. And I had combed my hair and put on new lip gloss. Wasn't there anything I could do to please her? Does she hate me? I wondered.

As I was walking up the stairs with the coffee and newspaper I heard the phone ring. When I entered her bedroom I heard her talking on the phone. Her voice was so light. She was clearly happy. "Amy, that sounds like fun. I'll see you at 12:30 at the club, then," I heard her say before she hung up the phone.

I set her coffee down on the night table and handed her the newspaper. I wasn't sure what to do next. She looked at the front page; it was like I did not exist. Finally after several minutes, which felt like hours, she looked at me and said, "Well, what are you standing there for? Don't you have laundry to do?' Her cold manner and those angry eyes had returned. I wanted to find someplace to hide. I turned and walked toward the door. I thought I heard a small chuckle as I left the room.

As I folded more laundry I could not stop thinking about how Miss Emily's tone had changed so quickly. One minute she was laughing while on the phone and the next she was severe with me. I wondered what I had done wrong.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her voice. "SISSY, get up here right now," she called. I did not have to be told twice. "Coming, Miss Emily," I replied as I hurried upstairs.
 
As I entered the room I saw Miss Emily getting some clothes out of her closet. "I need to take a shower, sissy," she said. "Go run the water and make sure it is nice and warm. I am going to play tennis with Miss Amy at her club. I am sure there is plenty of housework to keep you busy."

Why did she call her best friend "Miss Amy," I wondered. After the shower was running, Miss Emily entered the bathroom. For the first time I realized she was wearing white pajamas. Again, she was wearing pants and I was in a skirt. Somehow that realization was humiliating to me.

"Help me undress, sissy," she commanded. I unbuttoned her top slipped it off her shoulders and down her arms. The sight of her naked breasts and trim body made me stare in awe. It seemed like I had never seen them before and yet it had only been a few days. Her 34b breasts were perfect. But I knew better than to touch them.

My hands were shaking as I slid the bottoms down her legs. She stood still offering me no help. This forced me to kneel and pull them over her feet which she lifted just a little off the floor. "Stay, sissy," she commanded. I was staring at her trimmed pubic hair, unsure what she was planning. She turned, so her butt was in front of my face. She bet slightly, exposing the crack. "Lick, sissy," she said.

I was revolted. I wanted to refuse. But instead, I leaned forward and licked her crack. Again I heard a chuckle, Then she moved her butt against my face. My tongue was forced deeper. I heard her moan. I felt ridiculous. Her were moving faster and I could her moans getting louder. Finally she spasmed and her butt ground against my face harder.

She kept it there as her breathing slowed. Without a word, she turned, patted me on the head and got into the shower. I could feel my cock was throbbing, but remembered I had been ordered not to touch it.

As I wondered whether I should wait I heard the shower turn. "Sissy, bring my towel and dry me off," she barked. Carefully I dried her body. She stood on the bathmat making me walk around her to complete the task. Being so close to her body was pure torture.

When I was done she told me to help her dress. She always looked cute in her tennis outfits, and this time was no exception. Short blue shorts, a white halter, panties, and tennis socks all fit her perfectly. Because it was cold out I helped her into her black and teal warm up suit.

I slipped her shoes on her feet as she sat on the edge of the bed. She lifted her shoes so the soles were in front of my face. I licked them and could feel grit on my tongue. Suddenly she stood, patted me on the head and said "Follow me, sissy."

She walked down to the kitchen. I watched as she stared at the floor. "Not bad for a first time, sissy," she said. I did not know whether that was a compliment or an insult. I thought the floor was spotless. She turned to face me and I found myself moving my eyes down so I was staring at her feet.

"Now, sissy, I have much for you to do while I am at the club. Finish the laundry, obviously. I am sure even you remember that," she said. "I want my bed linens changed, the dirty ones washed and put away. I will not have dirty laundry piling up."

I was shocked. She had let laundry pile up for days and now she was insisting that it all be done immediately? I wanted to yell at her. But something stopped me.

"Finally, sissy, I want my bathroom scrubbed. You may use your new brush. I can see you need practice using it," she said while looking at the kitchen floor. "I will be home at 3 o'clock. I expect all your chores to be completed by then. Be waiting at the door for me."

 "Yes, Miss Emily," I heard myself say. I was not even thinking. I felt like I was in a daze.

I helped her put on her winter coat and she left.
 
6. Emily’s Thoughts

As Emily pulled her BMW out of the garage, she had a big smile on her face. She loved the idea that she could she enjoy a day at the club while her maid scrubbed the house.

She was surprised at how naturally this all had come to her. She had never thought of herself as so domineering. But treating Dan like a servant, a sissy or female servant at that, just seemed to come naturally. Each time he entered her presence she was sure she would end the game. But as soon as he appeared in his cute maid's outfit her personality seemed to change without her even realizing it.


Emily had particularly liked the look on Dan's face when she referred to "Miss Amy." He looked like he wanted to ask why Emily called her that formal name, but stopped. In fact, Emily Had noticed that Dan had stopped short several times when it appeared he would question her.

The thought made her feel a tingle between her legs....