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Forgetful Maid by Sally Tranz 1 - Dressing for Sunday chores My silent alarm buzzed and my arm jerked slightly as the watch brought me out of my light sleep. Although it had been a late night, I rarely slept past 7am, but Sunday was a special day. Sometimes, the alarm was set as late as 9am, which meant that I lay in bed even when awake. Sunday was the day my lady was treated very special. Today it was 7.30. As I eased out of our bed, the gentle breathing of my lady reassured me that she was asleep. Entering the en-suite, I closed the door and carried out the same function that every man did every morning as soon as he woke! Except I held up my pink baby doll nightie and eased down my matching panties before starting. One addition to the normal morning routine of most me - and indeed me - was the enema. The importance of this was due to the uncertainty of when I would next be allowed to empty my rear end! On completion, I removed both the panties and nightie, had a lovely hot shower and began my preparations. Covering my smooth, hairless body with cream, I felt an erection stirring. Best stop that I thought and covered my genitals, bum and surrounding area with baby powder before inserting the remote controlled butt plug that my lady insisted made me walk better, then pulled on the Tollyboy chastity belt and locked it in place. This was only ever worn on a Sunday as it would set off the metal detectors where I worked if I ever had it on that long. The first item of clothing was the corset liner. My lady had left out an ivory coloured, silk one for today and I silently thanked her for that little kindness. Next came the corset, also ivory, with the six suspenders hanging. Naturally, I tightened it and measured it, then re-tightened it until my waist measurement matched that on the instructions my lady had left. The thin, metal belt easily wrapped round the outside of the corset, now that I'd ensured the correct tightness and the solid click of it locking into place sent a silent shiver down my back, as I knew the lock would not be undone for at least fourteen hours. The lovely, ultra light, 7-denier tan stocking shone beautifully as I began to roll the first one up. The unmistakable caress of such a light material as I pulled it up my leg always excited my senses. Once connected to the three suspenders, the task was repeated with the other leg. Standing up, that gentle tug of stocking on suspender never failed to bring a smile to my face. My silky thong was gently and slowly pulled up my legs and I settled it in place outside of the garters. Next, came the bright pink, 5" heeled court shoes, with the ankle strap and little padlock for added security. Even though I knew that my feet would be extremely tired after fourteen hours at this angle, I still enjoyed the thrill of being locked into the shoes and had absolute trust in my lady releasing me at an appropriate time. Just as well really, as I never knew where the keys were kept! Seating myself on the deep, padded chair in front of the cosmetic mirrors, I adjusted myself until there was a semblance of comfort from the plug. My skill with foundation, blusher, eye-liner, eye shadow, mascara, lip liner, lipstick and gloss was always improving and I loved the way my face changed from the slightly harsh features that were natures gift, into the smooth, blended canvass that now smiled at the world. Knowing that the gag would ruin the effect of the lip make-up did not deter me from ensuring it was as near perfect as possible. Although I would have preferred to leave the gag until the last possible moment, I realised it was impractical to try and fix it on once the wig was in place. Checking first that the breathing hole was not blocked and that the feeding cap easily unscrewed, my mouth opened wide and the ball gag was located comfortably - well as comfortable as any large ball could be in your mouth - and the metal band taken round the back of my had and clicked into the lock. So many locks, so much pleasure from clicking them, so much surrender... Next came the earrings. Long, dangly earrings always ensured that my shoulders were aware of my femininity, as they tickled the bare flesh gently. The Raquel Welch Knockout wig was an unexpected, fabulous gift from my lady for my 30th birthday - which was spent in delicious feminine bondage like every birthday since we married - and settled beautifully over my head and was fixed into place with a special glue - that my lady had the "unfixer" for. Loving the look in the mirror, it was clearly time to get the uniform on. This was only the second time that my lady wanted me to wear the "Jade" French Maid dress from Miss By Elaine. It is a sumptuous dress in bright pink with 14 underskirts in purple and cerise and has a matching apron and headdress, which only slightly upsets the lay of the wig. If it was not for the chastity belt, I knew that I would not have been able to resist caressing myself once this dress was on. The act of pulling - no, easing - this bountiful array of femininity up my legs, past my thong and then settling it around my waist before sliding my hands into the arms and slowly pulling the zip into place is the most sensual act I have ever carried out whilst alone. The final click sent yet another shiver of anticipation down my spine, as with almost everything else that has been laid out by my lady, this dress is also locked on. Fixing the apron and cap in place was a welcome distraction to the lack of erection that I so wanted to have, and so wanted to release. Whoever invented the expression "delayed gratification" was not thinking of this situation when they thought of it, but I could not think of a more appropriate use for the two words! Although not strictly clothing, the ankle and wrist cuffs have to be locked on, connected as they are by tethers to prevent movement, other than short steps and small movements. So, with my arms and legs separated by a maximum of 12" I leave the en-suite and head down to the laundry room, taking the latest clothing discarded by my lady and I last night - not forgetting my panties and nightie from earlier. 2 - Sunday surprise To ensure that my lady is not disturbed, we had our bedroom sound-proofed in the second year of my service to her, therefore I am not concerned by the noise of the washing machine, vacuum cleaner or indeed the tumble drier when it starts. After about forty minutes, having ironed several of my lady's blouses, tops, skirts and suits from a previous wash, the first load of washing of the day is finished. All this talk I hear of maids bending at the waist because their "Mistresses" don't want them to bend at the knee sometimes makes me smile. With this corset on, there is no way that I can bend at the waist. Usually, I bend my knees and keep my back straight, however, sometimes I'll bend forward from my hips for a bit of masochism - as well as the lovely way I know my petticoats are showing! It is when I'm doing this and stretching into the tumble drier that I feel hands on my legs. Surprise is an understatement, as my lady rarely rises before the third load of washing is complete, however I have the presence of mind not to turn round, or indeed straighten up, as the rule is that she will turn me when ready, and that I must stay in position while she inspects me for the first time. Slowly, I realise that her hands are not inspecting me, but they appear to be "searching". When I first felt them, they were on the outside of my upper thighs, towards the backs, but not quite on my buttocks, however, one hand moved up over my right buttock and round the outside of my right thigh, whilst the other moved down and inside, then the fingers spread out, forcing my legs apart slightly, before they push forward, as if searching for my cock. Her right hand pulls me back towards her and it is then that I realise this is not my lady. The fingers on the left hand are too rough and I feel a rising panic. Who is this? How did they get in? What are they doing? Well, the last question really is stupid, because I can feel what they are doing... The right hand spins me round and the shock on my face must have registered, because Peter is looking straight at me, and says. "Don't look so scared, I'm not going to hurt you." How can I not look scared, this is Peter, who is married to one of my lady's work colleagues that stayed over last night after our dinner party? How stupid of me - or is it my lady that was forgetful? We usually have a rule that the clothes are not left out, nor the list of chores on top of the clothes, when guests are visiting. Perhaps my lady had a little too much to drink last night and forgot all about that. It was obvious that I had. Back to Peter though. His hands continued to roam over my legs, buttocks and over the surface of the chastity belt - phew, just realised how that has saved me. Perhaps Peter hasn't recognised me yet. After all, this was the first time that we had met, his wife had visited a couple of times, but never stayed over, therefore it would be best if she did not see me... Peter is smiling and I realise that he is just wearing boxer shorts. A bit tacky, but then it is better than some of the Ann Summers stuff that some people wear. Although I am in no position to argue my position, I try and express myself through the gag, but it just comes out as muffles. He takes one hand out from under the petticoats and puts it to my gag, and says. "Shhhhuuuusssshhh." I stop, he pauses, smiles and then in a very quiet voice, asks. "Are you the regular maid, or were you just brought in to clean up after last night?" My head nods then shakes. My earrings tinkle and brush my shoulders, whilst my hair falls over my eyes slightly. He brushes the hair out of the way and then asks. "Are you the regular maid?" I nod slowly. "Excellent." Peter smiles. I feel my eyebrows frown and he explains. "Well, if you were just here for last night, then the way you are dressed could have been arranged by George and Cathy as a bit of fun. But with you being the regular maid, it is clear that you are the slut Cathy has told my wife about." At this, my eyes popped wide and Peter's smile widened into a huge grin. I started to shake my head and raised my hands to protect myself, but this just meant that he noticed the tether holding my cuffs! Oops, I thought, that wasn't the smartest move around. He grabbed the tether and pulled me downwards and to his left. This put me way off balance and I almost fell to the floor, just managing to put my hands out to protect myself after he let go of the tether. As I started to get up, he pushed my back down and moved behind me. With the heels and my position, I must have presented an incredibly sexy sight and soon found his hands roaming around my bum, in between my legs and up towards where my cock would have been straining, if it wasn't locked away and pointed downward. Obviously I tried to get up, but the position was too difficult and he just pushed me back down. Then he used one leg to force my legs apart - to the full extent of the lower tether - which he clearly noticed. "This is exciting." He said. "It is the first time that I've had a maid trussed up for me to play with." At that, I began to really struggle, but he simply held me down. As I twisted and tried to get up, the corset really cut in to me and I began to feel nauseous and a bit light headed. Needless to say, this put the resistance on hold a little, which prompted Peter to say. "That's better, don't fight it too much. We have plenty time. Does your Mistress share you with others?" I shook my head no, which simply spurred him in the wrong direction! "We'll just have to keep quiet then, won't we?" With that, he put both hands on my corseted waist, pulled me up to him and spun me round to face him. Smiling, he asked. "Do you have the key to that little chastity device?" Shaking my head no, he looked pensive for a moment. "How about this little gag?" Again, I shook my head no, but his right hand was now behind my head, pulling me towards him. I thought he was going to kiss me, then realised that he couldn't anyway, as the gag was in the way. Instead, he was staring at the ball gag, then began to untwist the feeding cover. This was an innovation that my lady had designed and paid handsomely to ensure it was the best of workmanship. The ball was really two semi-spheres and allowed my lady to keep me well trussed up for longer as she could feed soft food into my mouth, thereby keeping my energy levels up to the rate she demanded. Once the cover was off, he pulled my head towards him and I felt his tongue inside my mouth. Resisting the gagging urge was difficult, but I managed to pull my mouth away from him without choking, although it appeared that the end of the connector was not as smooth as he or I first thought, as the thread appeared to catch him slightly. Not enough to cut, but clearly enough to shock. "To avoid little trouble like that on my dick, you better behave yourself." He said. As his intentions dawned on me, my eyes grew bulbous and his smile became larger. "Are you telling me you don't provide sexual services to your Mistress here?" I nodded. "Well, I'm her guest and she obviously meant me to find you, otherwise you would have been warned. So get down on your knees and keep still. If you don't use your tongue properly, or open your throat at the correct time, your Mistress will hear of your lack of guest relations." My body froze. Then he grabbed the tether between my arms and pulled it quickly down. Stumbling to keep my balance, I ended up with one knee on the floor and my other leg starting to go backwards behind me. Unfortunately, the tether wasn't long enough and I collapsed face down on the floor. He was on top of me right away, sitting on my back with his face towards my feet and the petticoats were everywhere! Struggling to get up was impossible with my hands tethered in front of me, especially as he was a bit heavier than me. Perhaps with both hands free, I could have shaken him off, but they had ended up down near my groin area and there was no leverage. He pulled the petticoats back as much as he could, then started spanking me loudly on my buttocks. Through the thin material of my thong, my bum soon was on fire. Try as I might, I couldn't twist round. In a matter of minutes I could feel tears welling up and very quickly I began to sob. Whether the pain was causing the sobbing, or the humiliation wasn't clear. I just sobbed. And drooled through the hole in the gag. His spanking slowed and he began to rub my buttocks. Firmly at first, but then a bit more gently, until my sobbing had subsided to little breaths. He helped me over onto my back, smiled again and stated. "That was fun! Now that I've had some exercise and you've had your punishment, it is time for your reward. Now do you want it on your knees or are you just going to lie there?" Realising that if I just lay there he would fuck my mouth and I would probably choke, I tried to get up a bit. He helped me until I was on my knees then he stood up and began to lower his boxers. Fear gripped me, and I began looking for a door. All rational thought had gone, until he said. "If you try anything else, this wooden spoon will tan your arse much worse than my hand just has." Surrender. It was all I could think of. My lady and I had sometimes spoken about me being used to service one of her friends that did not know about my pleasure in dresses and bondage, but it was always along the lines of the ball gag attachment being used to penetrate her girlfriend. Neither of us had ever thought about putting a male into the frame. I just didn't want to get hurt anymore. The pain in my buttocks had subsided thanks to his massage, but it was still painful, so I meekly leaned back onto my haunches, hoping that I could control him a bit. By now, his boxers were at his knees. His cock was still hanging down, but it had clearly grown from the early morning state and I suddenly thought 'I hope he's washed this morning.' Reaching down, he began massaging his cock, allowing it to grow and rise. A strange part of me noticed that it was not the biggest I had seen (out of all the many pricks I'd seen in showers) and that he was smaller than me, although about the same thickness. Slowly he neared me and began feeding it in to my mouth. My eyes closed and he stopped. "Open your eyes slut." My eyes opened. "Look up at my face." I did. He was smiling now, then warned me. "This gag of yours has some rough edges, therefore if you want to avoid the noise of the spoon on your arse, you had better be REAL careful. Understand? I nodded and he leaned in towards me. "Now use that tongue as soon as you feel me fill you up." Whilst perhaps not the most unpleasant taste in the world, it certainly was not as refreshing as Stella Artois on a summer's day! I felt his cock head touch my tongue and started to think about what I would like done to me - it had been a long time as my lady did not perform oral sex on me - even when we were not playing as lady and lady's maid. Circling my tongue round the top of his cock, I tasted the pre-cum. Having tasted my own on many occasions, I was surprised at the difference to mine. Not offensive, but then the thought of what I was doing entered my head and I gagged. "You better stop that now or the spoon is coming out." He quickly said. The bulge in my eyes showed him that this threat had had the desired effect and my tongue continued its ministrations around the head of his cock. He started to feed it deeper into my mouth and my tongue began to get a bit squashed. Racking my memory for the only time I could remember completely filling the mouth of a female admirer, the term deep throat leapt into my consciousness. Try as I might, every time I tried to get his cock into my throat I gagged again, but this must have felt to him like I was sucking on him as each time his eyes lit up a bit and there were now beads of sweat on his forehead. Serves him right for being overweight I thought. Then his hands grabbed my head and he was literally fucking my face. Once more, this was not the most pleasurable experience of my life, but it was nothing compared to the jet of spunk that hit the roof of my mouth when he first exploded. With it falling onto my tongue the second jet entered and then he was just holding my head close to his body whilst he finished the thrashing of his buttock clenching orgasm. Several seconds went by with me desperately trying not to swallow his come, but also not trying to throw up. He eased himself out of me, reached down and grabbed my hands - not the tether this time - and helped me to my feet. Strangely, I now noticed that I was about three inches taller than he. Clearly in my concern at being found out earlier this fact had been out of my thoughts. His right hand went to the back of my head and he pulled me to him and mixed his tongue with my saliva and his come. Not sure whether to gag or celebrate at this strange turn of events, I began pushing my tongue towards his. This spurred him on more and soon almost all of his jism had left my mouth and he was swallowing it whilst still tonguing the inside of my mouth as if searching for more. Finally he stopped, took a step back and at last had the character to look sheepish. With a sort of lop-sided grin on his face, he explained. "I've always thought the best way to start the day is with a blow job, but my wife thinks it is disgusting at any time, let alone first thing in the morning. Good job for you I'd had the decency to wash before coming down for some coffee. Which reminds me, do you do coffee? Nodding yes, I took the opportunity to move away from him to the coffee machine, which was set up for my lady's first cup, i.e. not started yet. Flicking the switch, I busied myself getting a mug, some sugar and cream arranged on a tray. Effectively, anything that avoided looking at his face. Soon the coffee was ready and I poured him a mug and took the tray over to him. He had sat on one of the kitchen stools, hence I was only slightly looking down on him as I approached. He seemed to avoid my eyes also and added cream but no sugar, then mumbled thanks and took the coffee away. Before he had got far, he had second thoughts and my heart sank. Returning to the kitchen he asked for a second mug for Jane, put cream in that and then left. As soon as I saw his legs going up the stairs, my legs virtually gave way and I leant against the breakfast bar. Wondering if I was going to throw up, I went over to the sink, got some water and rinsed my mouth out - as best as I could with half a ball gag on. Next into the fridge and grabbing one of those sickly sweet strawberry milk drinks, I opened it and found a straw. Thinking this would take the taste away, it partly worked in that there was always a sort of aftertaste - perhaps this was psychological, but it tasted real enough to me! Eventually I pulled myself together and went back to the tumble drier. Knowing that my lady would not be happy if I did not finish the tasks she had set, I emptied the drier and began on some more ironing. Not long afterwards, I had most of the ironing finished and began to write a note for my lady. This was the only way I was allowed to communicate with her, until she removed my gag. My gag! Where is the other part of it, I suddenly thought? A quick search found it on one of the worktops and I quickly screwed it back in place. Some more emptying of tumble driers, relocating washing from the machine to the drier, and a little bit of ironing, then the light went on above the coffee machine. 3 - Sunday confession and penance Stopping everything I was doing, I switched the coffee machine on, popped down the two slices of toast, then ensured everything else was in it's correct place on the tray. The toast holder, butter, marmalade, cup, saucer and cream were all arranged as normal. I added the note in a special, leather bound A6 portfolio holder. The coffee was ready and the toast popped whilst I was pouring the steaming black liquid into her cup. As an afterthought I added some painkillers to the saucer - just in case. Steadying myself for a potential encounter, I moved towards the stairs, then climbed them without incident. Entering our bedroom, I bobbed a curtsey and placed the tray on the bedside cabinet. My lady was sat up, although her hair needed some help and she had obviously not removed her make-up correctly the night before. Naturally, I made no sound to bring this to her attention. Nor did I try to push the note towards her. She would find that in her own time. Instead I stood with heels together, hands clasped in front of me, looking down towards the valance on the bed. Once she had finished the toast and coffee, she simply said, "Water" I minced to the en-suite then returned quickly with a glass of water. She had two tablets in her hand and swiftly swallowed them with a quick sip of water. Finally, my peripheral vision noticed her picking up the portfolio. "Sally," she said, "this had better be important or your day is going to be the worst you have ever experienced." I did not move, but remained with my eyes cast down and my hands and feet together. After what seemed like many minutes, but was probably only one or two, she whispered. "Sally, come over here and lay across my legs." She was now fully sat up, and I moved swiftly towards the bed, then lay over her legs, as requested. She moved me further into the bed and my legs stuck out as they could no longer touch the floor. Her left hand began to caress my neck and her right started at the back of my legs just above the knee. Her gently rhythm soon relaxed my body and her right hand soon found my buttocks. She then remarked. "Your skin is still warm, and very red. Are you sure he did this with just his hand?" Naturally, I nodded. "Up," came the command. Quickly I was on my feet and assumed the respectful position again. "Time for my shower Sally." Disappointment struck me like a blow, although I retained the presence of mind to go into the en suite and turn on the shower to the correct temperature. Once my lady was in the shower, my thoughts began churning... Was she not going to release me to avoid our guests for the rest of the day? Was she simply going to allow Peter to take liberties in our house on the day when I was there to serve her, and she had agreed to protect me from the outside world? Was this unimportant to her? No answers came, but her contented sighs indicated that the shower was to her satisfaction. On hearing the water stop, I was at the door with a large, soft beach towel to wrap around her, then another smaller towel to begin the process of drying her beautiful, dark, shoulder length hair. Whilst not quite black, it was dark enough that some people thought it was indeed black. Helping her dry, I smoothed moisturiser over her body, towel dried her hair, then moved towards her wardrobe. She simply shook her head and said one word. "Basement." My eyes must have given my thoughts away, as it had been several months since she had played with me in the basement. This was our second soundproof room in the house, but it contained an assortment of toys for her to use. Most of these toys caused me some pain, hence the idea of going to the basement after the treatment that Peter had just meted out was not appealing. A raised eyebrow had me moving quickly. From the hook behind the door I fetched her black silk ankle length robe and quickly wrapped it round her. Opening the door, I wondered if Peter and Joan had surfaced properly, then stepped back to let my lady proceed ahead of me. As she passed, I bobbed another curtsey then she patted me on my head. Following her down to the basement, we did not encounter Joan or Peter (thankfully) and I soon found myself spread-eagled to the wall behind the door. My lady switched off the light then left. This is perhaps the most cruel aspect of being dominated by a creative mind. My lady realised that by leaving the light on I could play mind games to keep myself amused (counting the different types of pain inflicting devices for instance). In addition, this would give me some idea of how much time had passed, as would music playing in her absence. How long it was before the light came on I'll never know, but both Peter and Joan followed my lady into the room. My heart sank. Had this been a conspiracy by my lady to genuinely humiliate me beyond my wildest nightmares? Her dress certainly appeared to indicate this. I could see that she still had her robe on, but noticed the heels of her boots. They were her "dominant" boots that I knew were thigh high. Although I couldn't be certain, I suspected that she had a black leather corset on under the robe and it had stockings attached. Whether she wore panties depended on her mood. From experience, I preferred it when she had panties on, as this indicated a lighter level of punishment. My lady indicated the black leather couch to Peter and Joan. No words were spoken, but my lady moved across to me, loosed her robe, and offered her nipple to me. Looking down, I could see the corset, but she was too close for me to discover the answer to the panty mystery. Unable to move my mouth, I used my nose to gently caress her nipple and saw it rise into a firm, proud protuberance from her breast. The other one was offered and I repeated the exercise. Having perfected this method of breast massage over many years, a satisfied - and slightly triumphant - look appeared in her eyes. Stepping back, she closed her robe, then turned her back on me, pointed at Joan, who stood and allowed her robe to fall open. Naked underneath, I tried desperately not to look at her lower area, as looking at other females pubic area was strictly prohibited by my lady. Joan walked towards my lady, who took hold of the shoulders of Joan's robe and pushed it off her completely. My eyes were straight ahead when my lady turned round, gently guiding Joan towards me, simply saying to Joan. "Enjoy." Joan put her nipple in my face and I responded by using my nose to caress her gently. Soon I was rewarded with two proud nipples and a very red faced - and somewhat breathless - Joan. She pulled away from me and turned to my lady. "She is awesome, where did you get her?" My lady smiled, then looked at Peter and pointed to "The Chair". Clearly, he did not realise the importance of this chair as he went and sat on with incredible anticipation. No sooner had he sat on it than Joan was beside him, massaging his prick through his boxers and encouraging him to lie back, which he obviously did. In a flash, my lady and Joan had the wrist restraints on him. Before he could recover, the leg restraints were also attached, and then my lady produced the scissors. His boxers were soon cut off, although his protruding eyes were more concerned about his shrivelling manhood than his underwear. Joan began... "Whilst I've often suspected that you played away Peter, I never expected you to do so when we were guests together at someone else's home, although I suppose playing with the domestic staff indicates your imagination - or lack of it." Peter looked horrified, but Joan continued. "You made a mistake in picking on this particular maid, because she is extremely loyal and immediately outlined everything you did. Technically, it is rape, but Cathy and I have devised a punishment that is more "fitting" to the crime than calling in the police." Joan smiles at this and looks over towards me, still spread-eagled to the wall. My lady has begun covering Peter with cream that I can tell is hair remover. He begins to enjoy the ministrations, especially when his wife joins in. The fact that they are wearing Marigold rubber gloves does not deter his rising manhood once again. Once his front is covered, including his cock and balls - cruelty always was a specialty of my lady - leather cuffs are attached to his wrists, just above the chair cuffs. He notices that these cuffs have wire attached to them, then my lady begins using the remote control that used to put fear into me. His chair cuffs melt away and he leans forward as if to release his ankle restraints before the wires tighten and begin pulling him upwards. Soon he is stretched as though he were on a medieval rack. Naturally, ankle cuffs follow and the same process is repeated, although this time the wires pull his legs apart. He is now suspended entirely and his wife and my lady continue to smooth cream over his entire body. Then they wrap a posture collar around his neck - despite his resistance - that locks his head in an upright manner. Next, my lady produces a hairdresser's set of clippers and begins shaving his entire head hair. The cream is finally applied all over his head and face, including his eyebrows, then he is left suspended, at an angle of about 45 degrees - although it is difficult to guess as his body is bowed in between the wires suspending his arms and those that are pulling his legs apart. Clearly the leg wires are much lower though. He appears to be in some pain, which is not surprising given that his arms have suspended his weight for over ten minutes now. Surprisingly, his erection has remained throughout this treatment, something that my lady has noticed, but Jane does not appear to have. Only when the itching that I used to know begins, does he suspect something might just not be right. "What is this stuff?" Peter asks. "This is designed to make your skin nice and smooth," replies Joan. "Best known as hair removal cream." "What? Why are you removing my hair?" Peter asks. "Before answering that, I'm going to give you a choice. First, you can continue to ask us questions and we will be forced to gag you, just like our domestic attached to the wall over there. Or, you can keep quiet and answer questions when I ask you. Which do you prefer?" "How could you gag me if I won't open my mouth?" Peter stupidly asks, forgetting that he is not in a position to resist. Joan's reply is interesting in that she has clearly been speaking to my lady, and her inexperience shows. My lady would simply have knocked me out, put the gag in, then asked what choice I would prefer. Not that I ever resisted enough to get to that situation! "If you choose to keep asking questions, we will simply administer some chloroform to you, then when you wake up - with some pretty vile smelling salts to help you waken - you will have a gag in place, in addition to the monstrous headache that always follows a period of chloroform induced unconsciousness. Now which route do you wish to take?" "I'll keep quiet." "Excellent," smiles Joan, "your hair is being removed because you cannot be trusted to be faithful, therefore you are going to be shown how to remain faithful." Once the itching becomes unbearable - and believe me, we know how long that takes - we'll remove the cream, then you will be dressed in a similar, but not quite as lovely, manner as our maid over there." Then you will demonstrate your apology in an appropriate manner and serve the evening meal, under her strict supervision of course. Peter's eyes are bulging, but his erection appears to gain strength. My lady and I exchange a knowing look as we now understand Peter is a secret cross dresser - or perhaps a repressed one. My lady and Joan spend the next several minutes using my nose to heighten their state of arousal, although I could clearly see that Joan does not need much in the way of encouragement. She had not bothered to close her robe and the moisture that glistened on her legs was indication enough. This was noticed by peripheral vision of course, as my lady would not have tolerated any possible looking. Peter was clearly in significant discomfort. This could be judged by the level of twists and turns his body was going through, although he was admirably keeping quiet - apart from the odd groans and moans that escaped his writhing body. "Would you like us to remove your body hair now Peter?" Joan asked. Peter responded with vigorous nodding of the head. "That will never do Peter. If you want the itching to stop, you must repeat... 'Please Mistress Joan, will you remove this unwanted, irritating hair from all over my delicate skin'." "Please, remove my hair, Joan." "Not good enough. It must be exactly as I said. Would you like me to repeat it?" Peter nodded and Joan repeated it. "Please Mistress Joan, can you remove this unwanted hair from my body?" "Not quite Peter, try again." Instructed Joan, then she repeated the sentence. This time Peter did not mess up and stated in a very strong, pleading voice... "Please Mistress Joan, will you remove this unwanted, irritating hair from all over my delicate skin." "Certainly Peter. Don't worry, we'll soon have you smooth and fresh all over, just like you want to be, then you can get to wear your pretty serving clothes." I was sure that Peter's cock twitched when he heard this. He must really be a closet tranny, I thought. It will be interesting to find out how submissive he is. My lady appeared with the showerhead, as though from nowhere and immediately started spraying his body with it. Un-noticed by both Joan and Peter, my wife's robe had disappeared and she was now fully exposed with her leather corset, stockings, thigh high boots with six inch, steel spike heels, and - joyous to me - a black leather thong. As she rinsed Peter thoroughly, she stood back far enough and allowed Joan to get wet all over. Given that she was still naked, this was not a problem for her, and she seemed to be enjoying the attention that the water gave her. Peter's hair disappeared slowly and Joan continued rubbing his body with a soft cotton cloth to make sure that nothing had been missed. As the water was warm, his erection continued to jut downwards from his suspended body and my lady attracted my attention when Joan's back was to both of us and the water was directed at Peter's head. Her simple smile explained that this was going to be a pleasant session for me and there would be little pain, unless I made some serious error of course. It also suggested to me that Peter was not going to be quite so lucky. The shower was turned off and Peter's feet were lowered to the ground, although still kept about three feet apart. This gave him significant relief though as he felt the lack of tension in his arms. They were not lowered below head level though, so he was still on edge and had to concentrate on standing up. A large, fluffy beach towel appeared for Joan and she began to pat him all over. Memories of our introduction to these games came flooding back, as I remembered being dried by my lady for the first time. Peter was dried thoroughly, then the tray appeared. This included everything that my wife used to prepare me for our sessions, the first part was always the body lotion. Peter's was definitely more feminine in smell than the brand my lady bought for me now. The smell suggested a cheap brand that was more for the smell, than the actual moisturising effect. After Joan had smoothed this all over Peter's body, talcum was dusted over his torso, arms and legs, with the noticeable - to me anyway - omission of his genital area, his bum and everything from the bottom of the posture collar upwards. Joan then reclined on one of the three padded tables that were in the room and my lady used the remote to lift Peter off the floor once again. He was manoeuvred until his nose was just above Joan's pubic area, then lowered until it was obvious what was required. He began licking ferociously, clearly hoping to bring Joan to a quick orgasm and be lowered to the ground quickly. Joan immediately stopped him and outlined his task... "This is not a race Peter. This is where I enjoy being brought to several orgasms before you are lowered to the ground. Whilst I appreciate that neither you or I are particularly keen on giving oral sex, we are both keen receivers - not that you would know that, given the lack of attention you have paid to my clit when you have been washing your face down there in the past! Now, take your time and use that tongue of yours to caress - and I mean caress - the tops of my legs. If you touch a single public hair before I tell you, you will regret it." Unknown to Peter, my lady stood behind him with a paddle that she had used on me in the past. This was not an implement to be used by an inexpert hand, and fortunately for Peter - well fortunate in one way at least - my lady was an expert! Peter had resumed his oral ministrations on his wife, who looked as though she was beginning to enjoy herself. Her smile showed a certain degree of pleasure, though I'm not certain if this was due to the power she now felt over her suspended husband or if it was that Peter was working his tongue to her satisfaction. After about thirty seconds or so, her smile disappeared and she nodded at my lady. Her downward swat on Peter's bare buttocks was nowhere near full power, but the unexpected nature of it must have given him an enormous shock. His entire body went rigid and then started shaking, whilst several oaths sprang from his mouth. Again, the paddle hit him, then Joan shouted at him. "Did I tell you to stop?" A brief pause when he looked at her unbelievingly. "Get your tongue down there quick or there will be more from the paddle." He very quickly realised his predicament and got busy again. This time though Joan was clearly in no mood to wait for his obedience or indeed his inexperience at giving oral pleasure to a woman. "Now Peter, unless you follow my instructions precisely, your buttocks will be black and blue, not the lovely colour of red they are right now. When I said to caress the tops of my legs until I tell you, I meant caress. You started superbly, but nibbling does not form part of caress. When I am ready to be nibbled - if at all - I will let you know. Now keep the caress going until I tell you to move on." Her smile slowly returned, but this time the look in her eyes highlighted that this was as much about the power, as it was about his caressing. He had clearly learned one lesson and was concentrating enormously on the giving of pleasure. His head was moving slowly, and the only noise in the room was Joan's breathing and the slight slurping noise coming from Peter's tongue. After several minutes, Joan commanded. "Now, begin to caress all round the outside of my hair, both sides and above as far as your tongue can reach, again do not touch the hair." Peter's head moved slowly to ensure that Joan was satisfied with his work and her smile began to get bigger. By this time, her face was beginning to get flushed and I noticed that my lady had moved her hand inside her panties and was obviously enjoying the scene in front of her. Indeed were it not for the chastity belt constraining me, there would have been one of my largest ever erections protruding from my body. Joan's face was even more flushed now and - somewhat breathlessly, and indeed very sensually - she spoke at Peter. "Now is the time for closer contact. Work your way slowly - very, very slowly in towards my real pleasure zone. If you go to fast, your buttocks will be on fire, if you go too slow... well, there isn't really too slow! You are learning fast Peter. This could be very good for you. Rewards follow good performance, just as punishment follows poor performance." Peter's head had begun a large circle of Joan's "pleasure zone" and she was so obviously enjoying the power now that she was on the brink of orgasm without him getting near her clit. This was obviously a new experience for her as she began to look a bit confused at what was happening. Very quickly though, nature took over and her orgasm racked through her body. All I could see was the mixture of pleasure and pain as powerful waves of pleasure washed over her body and she alternatively pushed Peter's head away with her thrusts, then grabbed it back into her with her head. She nodded at my lady, who began a gentle paddling of Peter's rear - although from experience I knew that it would not feel that gentle after the initial two swats from earlier - whilst Joan held firmly onto his ears to ensure that his tongue and mouth remained in contact with her exactly where she wanted. After a good minute and perhaps longer, Joan's body began to slow down and she eased her grip on Peter's ears. With her right hand, she let go of his ear and slowly caressed his head, pulling it further into her mound. Then her left hand joined the right at the back of Peter's head then came the explanation. "That was an excellent start Peter. The sooner we repeat that, although I haven't decided how many times yet - then the sooner you will get your reward. Continue where you had been instructed before..." Her breathy voice seemed to appear from deep within her, and her eyes were definitely looking at a different plateau to the one that the other three of us in the room were on, although my lady was now flushed looking. Although she had been paddling Peter until Joan had let go of his ear, my lady had not removed her other hand from inside her panties. She now turned and walked over to me. Her right breast was put at my nose again, to which I responded as expected. She must have lain down the paddle as I could sense that her left hand was still inside her panties, whereas her right hand was now caressing the inside of my thighs, very high under my petticoats. The pleasure that comes from being caressed in such an erotic manner, whilst knowing there is no chance of release is exquisite. The downside of this was that my lady was stood in front of me and I could not see what was going on between Peter and Joan. My lady had my full attention though and I could feel her breathing as her breast moved about my nose in a way that was not controlled by my movements now. Feeling her body go rigid, I eased off with my nose, knowing that anything more than a whisper touch would involve a reaction too painful to contemplate. The touch was still important though, therefore the judgement that had taken many sessions to master was - even though I say so myself - perfect! After she had calmed down, we both heard the rasping of Joan's breath as she fought another orgasm. She had clearly been talking to Peter, though neither of us had noticed to this point, and she was now praying the way many of us do at the point of major release... "God, that is wonderful," she semi shouted/gasped. Peter's head was almost being forced inside her and I had a slight degree of sympathy for the poor man as I know how difficult it is to breathe when you are not in a position to remove your head from a woman in the throes of orgasm. Slowly Joan came back to our level and Peter began breathing normally again. Noticeably, he was continuing his servicing of his wife. He must have been pleased not to be paddled this time. "I think it is time for a reward now Peter," Joan stated. 4 - A sweet transvestite My lady moved behind Peter and reached down to the tray where a jar of cream was waiting. Putting on some rubber gloves, she began very gently rubbing some cream onto Peter's fiery buttocks. Joan was quick to pull him back when the initial shock of cold cream had caused his head to jump away from her. He was obviously enjoying the attention that his buttocks were getting and began to open his thighs a bit wider in the hope of getting some attention for his balls. Big mistake there! Knowing my lady would not miss such an opportunity, she began massaging the cream lower and lower, until she was close to his anus. Instead of continuing to his balls like he was expecting, she began to massage the cream all around his hole and eventually pushed a finger in. Sadly, I could not see how far in it was, but Peter's reaction was enough to let me know that it was in by a margin that certainly got his attention. Despite the quick hesitation, he was back lapping at Joan's pleasure zone before she could even react to his brief lapse. Joan was beginning to breathe faster once again, and her face was almost permanently red now. She was certainly getting her daily cardio-vascular exercise today! Without seeing exactly what was going on around Peter's rear end, I knew from experience that a second finger would be going in at some time. Exactly when it happened I'm not sure, but the moan that came from Peter suggested a possible time. As Joan approached a third orgasm, Peter's erection was almost pulsing and when the third - it could have been fourth, I was just too far away to see - finger entered him, he ejaculated all over the floor. Despite his bucking, he admirably managed to keep his face firmly attached to Joan, who obviously recognised the significance of this act and instantly started bucking herself. My lady was staring straight at me and smiling broadly. Although we had often discussed introducing someone into our games, this was not only unexpected, but also going down a path that we had not begun to discuss. Never in our discussions had an opportunity like this presented to us. Being unable to smile with my mouth (which had began the aching that is expected after several hours of ball-in-mouth gag), my eyes hopefully showed my lady that this was indeed a path worth following. Although on Sundays I served my lady in every way she wanted - including being the "punch bag" for her to vent her frustration at some other infractions in her life, although she never actually punched me - ours was a marriage of love in every way. If I had asked her to be tied in order that I could paddle or cane or whip her, I know she would have agreed, though not on a Sunday. She had indeed offered this on more than one occasion in our earlier days of experimentation, until she understood that my release was to be restricted, controlled and humiliated. The pain she dispensed was not my pleasure, however serving her was my pleasure and if that meant she craved giving pain, then we agreed it was better to give it to me than to either keep it inside or risk arrest. Back to Joan and Peter though... Their mutual orgasm was another golden opportunity and my lady wasted no time in taking her fingers out of Peter's rear - who raised his buttocks as if asking for the fingers back - and replacing them very quickly with a slender butt plug. The ring at the exposed end of the plug showed me that Peter was in for an interesting time, although that is perhaps not how he would describe it. This obviously satisfied Peter who clenched his buttocks in apparent gratitude at the re-entry so quickly of something satisfying. His head was still clasped by Joan's hands and she had begun subsiding again. Once both she and Peter had returned to a reasonable level of breathing, a sign from my lady elicited a nod from Joan and the remote was used to lift Peter away from Joan by a few inches. Enough that she could look at his eyes and he could clearly see hers. "Look at me Peter," Joan commanded in a voice that he had clearly never heard before. "In your arse is a butt plug. If that drops out of you, you will be caned and I can assure you that the cane is far more painful than a paddle, plus it will break the skin and we don't want blood over our guests floor now do we?" Peter shook his head, then Joan continued. "Earlier I mentioned that you will be dressed similar to our domestic attached to the wall, and the time has come for that to happen. Although we are putting your feet on the ground in a few minutes, your hands will still be kept high as you will not be released until I have decided you can be trusted. This may be some time." "Understand?" He nodded. Slowly he was raised to an upright position, then his legs were lowered until his feet were on the floor, albeit about three feet apart. It must have been very difficult for him to keep the plug inside, but he managed. Joan had by now stood and my lady handed her the first part of the chastity device. This consisted of a tube, which his cock was forced into. It was then forced down between his legs and the chain attached to the tube fed through the ring on his butt plug. Drawing the chain up between the crack of his buttocks, it was attached back and front to the steel reinforced leather belt, thereby ensuring he would not be removing the plug with help. The resounding click that I heard almost had me jetting, even in my restricted state. Peter did not seem to notice. It was as thought he was in a different place, at least mentally. One of my old, plain black corsets was wrapped round his body and the clips at the front connected before the lacing began. My lady was now sat watching all of this taking place, occasionally staring at Peter, but mostly watching Joan, and just every now and then smiling over at me. As Joan tightened the laces, she commented. "You will need to lose some weight young lady. I can't have a maid of mine looking as fat as you are. Let me see what we've got you down to." Taking a tape measure from the tray, she announced. "34 inches, that will never do. What is your maid's waist Cathy?" "26 today." This is the first time that my lady has spoken since we entered the room and Peter is suddenly brought back to earth as he realises his predicament. Suspended from the roof by wires, attached to the floor by other wires, tightly corseted and his chastity guarded, he obviously has felt the need to regain his manhood in this situation. Oh-oh I think, don't do it. "OK girls, you've had your fun, time to let me go." Smack! Joan reacted much quicker and better than I expected. Her hand had shot out and slapped Peter's cheek with such venom that his head was knocked sideways. "Who gave you permission to speak?" she roared. "This is not some game that is designed for your pleasure. You force our host's maid into giving you a blow job and expect there to be no repercussions, then think that because you have had your rocks off it must be time to go back to normal life. Let me assure you that your normal life has changed forever now. Until I give you permission, you will not speak unless spoken to. Now, you ARE going to be gagged and the only question remains, do you want it voluntarily or are we going to have to knock you out?" Peter looks completely bewildered. His mouth is hanging open, perhaps because this is the first time his wife has hit him, but it could also be because of the authority in her voice. "You may speak to give an answer to my question now." "Can you repeat the question." Smack. "From now on, when you speak, you will only do so when answering a question and you will begin and end every sentence with 'Mistress', OK" Peter appears to be on the verge of tears now, but has the composure to reply. "Mistress, yes Mistress." "Now what did you say?" "Mistress, can you repeat the question please, Mistress?" "Do you want the gag in your mouth with or without chloroform?" "Mistress, without Mistress." "Thank god for that. Get that mouth open." Peter opens his mouth and is not expecting a mini cock shaped gag being placed in his mouth. Although it is only about two and a half inches long, this still causes a gag reflex. "Control yourself girl," Joan exclaims. Peter's eyes are wide with fear and uncertainty now and he fights back the gag reflex. The gag is attached with a strap and there is the familiar - well to me anyway - sound of the lock clicking into place. "There is also an easy way and a difficult way for the rest of your dressing to take place. The easy way is that we release your legs and dress you quickly and without pain, or the difficult way is that we whip you for not cooperating, then drug you, dress you and you wake up with a monstrous headache. Will the easy way suit you?" Peter nods vigorously and the arm wires are loosened slightly. The extra pressure on Peter's waist caused by his body settling into his corset causes him to take a sharp intake of breath and try and stand straighter. Joan simply raises an eyebrow and he stands perfectly still. The wires attached to his feet go slack and the cuffs around his ankles are removed. Joan moves his feet until they are almost together under his body, which is clearly not coping well with the corset. His waist must have been closer to 40", than the 34" he currently is. Joan reaches down inside the corset and pulls on his flesh, moulding it towards a cleavage of sorts, then smiling mischievously and asking. "Do you want bigger breasts girl?" Peter shakes his head and Joan continues. "Aw, why not? These are cute, but they are not proper breasts. Wouldn't you like breasts like these?" Joan clasps her breasts together and forces them up to his face. They are indeed beautiful and Peter shakes his head slowly as his eyes are focussed on Joan's upward turned nipples, which she has now began to play with. "Just think, with breasts like mine, you could tweak your own nipples all day long. Think of the pleasure that would give you, massaging, caressing, perhaps even reaching down with your tongue like this and licking your own nipples." Joan illustrates with one of the longest tongues I have ever seen. Peter's knees seem to buckle, then he straightens up quickly as the corset has obviously caused a bit of distress. "Not to worry. I know that breasts are a new thing for you, so if you change your mind, let me know. Now, where were we? Oh yes, panties. Well, as you are a new maid, we can't have you getting anything fancy, so we've just got these for you. I hope they fit." Once more, these are an old pair of mine and hold such memories for me. They are effectively little girls pants, white satin nylon with loads of ruffles sewn into the back. Joan holds them up in front of Peter and I can tell from the look in his eye that he is caught between emotions. He sooo wants to wear these, but can't admit that in front of his wife, let alone two other people. His eyes appear to be looking around the room for a means of escape as Joan crouches down, never taking her eyes of his and says. "Up." Peter lifts his left leg and Joan slides the panties up partially. She raises an eyebrow and Peter raises his other leg. As Joan slowly slides the panties up Peter's legs, his eyes close and Joan instructs. "Open." Peter opens his eyes and his misty - almost tearful - look appears to be interpreted by Joan as humiliation. My lady and I look at each other as we recognise the pleasure that Peter is experiencing is not just humiliation. He LOVES the feel of these panties. Joan pulls them all the way up and is standing looking straight into Peter's eyes as she adjusts them into place and rubs her hands all over his buttocks through the soft shiny ruffles and brings her hands round the front, caressing his thighs and the front of his groin. Peter appears to try and hump forward slightly, but Joan takes her hands away. "Now, now young lady. That's not how a demure maid should behave. Remember you are on trial here." Peter look bemused again, but Joan has turned away and has picked out the sheerest stockings that my lady and I ever use. These are only seven denier and are a whisper of a fabric in a black colour, although the fabric is so thin, it almost looks silver. Joan balls one stocking up, then crouches down and looks up at Peter, who lifts his foot. As Joan slides the stockings up his leg I am trying to remember the first time that I had a stocking sliding over smooth skin. Joan puts the long garters attached to the corset under his panties, smoothing them back into place of course, then clips the stockings to them. Peter appears to be about to come, but the chastity belt is doing its work and he remains glazed while Joan repeats the exercise with his other leg. She stands up and looks into his eyes, which remain staring somewhere other than Joan, despite the appearance of looking straight at her. "You enjoy this, don't you Peter?" The use of his name snaps him back to reality. He nods slowly. "Do you want to be my maid?" Joan asks huskily. Peter nods. "Do you want to be my lesbian lover?" Peter nods more enthusiastically. "Would you like bigger breasts, lesbian lover?" Peter nods. "Lesbians don't have cocks, you know that Peter?" Peter nods again, albeit a bit slower. "Do you have a cock Peter?" He nods. "You can't be my lesbian lover then, can you?" He shakes his head. "Would you like to lose your cock so that you can be my lesbian lover, Peter? He shakes his head again. "Pity, I would have enjoyed having your cock removed. Don't worry that isn't your punishment. But would you like larger breasts to help you be a better lesbian, Peter?" He nods again, then leaves his head hanging in shame. "Don't be sad Peter, all girls want bigger breasts at some time in their lives. You are just a late developer. Now, let's get the rest of your clothes on." Joan picks up one of my old satin maid's dresses that she pulls up his legs and slides into place. It does not have arms therefore it only manages to stay on him because his waist is so tightly corseted now. This is followed by a net and soft nylon petticoat set that ensures the dress juts out at an obscene angle. All the while, Joan is caressing Peter's legs and panties, ensuring that he is kept at a high state of arousal, even if he cannot get erect. "Raise your left leg, sweetie." Peter does so and Joan attaches four-inch heel courts with and ankle strap. Not surprisingly, they are locked on. "If these appear a bit tight, that is because they are one size too small for you. If you had only told me how much you liked to wear feminine clothes I would have bought you some, but these will have to do. Next leg." As Peter put weight onto the heeled foot, you could see discomfort in his eyes, but only for a moment as he once more returned to his happy place that the clothes and humiliation were taking him to. "Now for your apron." A very small, white satin apron that matches the underskirts and contrasts in typical manner with the black of the unimaginative French Maid's outfit - well it was my first - is wrapped round. "Now, I'm going to take your gag out because I have some questions that I want you to answer in a very specific way. Understand?" Peter nods. Joan moves behind Peter, unlocks the gag and removes it. "Do you enjoy wearing these clothes Peter?" "Mistress, yes Mistress." A satisfied smile appears on Joan's face on hearing the correct use of "Mistress" in his first spoken word for some time. "In your own words, tell me how you like them." "Mistress, the feel of the stockings and panties are so smooth and soft on my freshly shaven body Mistress. Mistress, thank you for dressing me in these beautiful clothes, Mistress." "Do you want to serve me now Peter." "Mistress, oh yes, please let me serve you Mistress." Joan's eyes narrow, as she is not sure if Peter is genuine. Not to worry, my lady has switched the screen on. "Watch, Peter." My lady has been sorting some video footage out of what has been happening in this room over the last hour or so and Peter sees himself leaping into the chair, then responding to the question "Would you like bigger breasts?" with a nod. A quick fast forward and he hears himself repeating the last exchange. As always with the hidden camera, the wires do not show, and Peter looks like as if he wants to show off his small, budding breasts. "Now that we have this, you can rest assured it will be edited to present you in your best, feminine light, so if you thought you were trying to lead me on to ensure that you could try and get out of this, you can think again. Imagine if one of your golfing mates was to see this." Peter shakes his head, but does not say anything. "You are my plaything now Peter. Do you understand? You may speak." "Mistress, yes Mistress." "Now, would you prefer to be my little girl plaything, my maid plaything or my grown up lesbian plaything?" "Mistress, I want to be any of those for you Mistress." "We'll see. Now bend your head forward." Joan once again dons Marigolds and begins applying a clear gel to Peter's head. She then produces a shocking blond wig that looks incredibly cheap - the sort of thing that could be bought from Blackpool for about 99p - and adjusts it into position on Peter's head, moving his head to get the correct perspective and finally appearing satisfied, begins applying make-up. Of course, Peter cannot see that his eyebrows have gone, therefore he is unaware that the painted on, grossly arched eyebrows make him look even cheaper. Add to this, the over done eye shadow (bright blue, how common!), the thick, dark eye liner, over the top blusher and the garish Ferrari red lipstick and Peter is a parody of a tart on the pull at any one of the seedier areas of our cities. Except Peter is dressed more femininely than any of the hookers that can be seen on the streets. 5 - Sunday School "Time for your lessons now Peter. Do you know how to curtsey?" He shakes his head. "Pity that, it would have been much easier if you could simply curtsey. However, we have an expert on hand to show you," Joan states, looking at me. My lady comes over, loosens my bonds, unclips both tethers, then massages my wrists and ankles before pointing down to the floor. Immediately, I gather my skirt in my hands at the widest point, sweep my left foot behind my right leg and bend my right knee until my nose is almost touching the ground. Remaining there until anything changes, I hear Joan say. "Your turn Peter." The swish of his underskirts is the only sound, at least before I hear a thump. My lady taps me and I rise to the standing position, knees and feet together, hands c