The Story Of Lisa's Maid free porn video

The Story of Lisa's Maid My feet were killing me. But I guess I shouldn't expect anything less after standing and working in 5" heels for the last thirteen hours. My "shift" was almost up - only an hour or two left to go - and I still had the bed to turn down, the candles to light, the strawberries to chocolate, and the champagne to pour. Then my aching arches would finally get some relief. I put the last dinner plate into the cabinet, then minced over to the refrigerator to get the champagne. The click of my heels on the tiles set my mind wandering... wandering back to the first time I stumbled around the kitchen in these same shoes. "I... I don't know if I can do this, honey..." "What? Did you just say what I think you said?" she said, half-jokingly. I blushed, stammered a little, and tried again. "I'm sorry Mistress. I meant, I don't know if I can do this, Mistress." She smiled a little as she smacked my ass, and pointed to the cabinet where my latest task awaited me: putting the last of the dishes away. "Sure you can... maid." Our little game had progressed from the occasional sexy pillow-talk about our favorite fantasies to an occasional role playing episode (she loved playing the high-class call girl) to this. For some reason, I'd agreed to play her personal maid for the weekend. What I didn't expect was how far she would take it. Not that I was disappointed - despite our marriage of 10 years, I'd never shared with her my penchant for crossdressing - but I was noticeably surprised when she presented the 5" heels in which I was now "stumbling" around the kitchen. I say "stumbling" because I was making a conscious (and hopefully non- transparent) effort to look unstable in them. When I got home that fateful Friday night, just before the hour we'd agreed upon for the beginning of my servitude, she smiled, took my bag, and said, "Strip." I faltered a little, not expecting her demanding demeanor, and uttered some stupid reply that escapes me now. Her reaction I haven't forgotten, however. At the first syllable of sound to escape my lips, she slapped my face lightly. "Don't argue," she stated simply. "I said 'Strip.' So strip. Please don't make me ask a third time." I quickly pulled off my shoes, jumped out of my shirt and slacks, and practically ripped off my socks and boxers. She smiled. "Good. Are you ready for this weekend, honey?" She reached out for my quickly rising erection. "Hmmm, nevermind... I think I know the answer. Now get up to the bedroom. I have a surprise for you." You can imagine what it was. Yes - my uniform for the remainder of the weekend: a white lacy apron and a little white maid's cap. After she placed the cap on my head and tied the apron around my waist, making a big bow over my bare ass, she presented me with the shoes. I hope she mistook the fire on my cheeks for embarrassment at being presented with something so obviously feminine - but the truth was that my blush was really my lust at seeing those beautiful black 5" stilettos and imagining wearing them around the house! "You like them, honey?" she said, giggling slightly at my obvious reaction. "Because you're going to be wearing them all weekend!" "What?!" was my carefully stammered reply. "You're not serious, are you?" "Completely. Put them on. Right now, maid." As I slipped into them, she smiled brightly. "They make your legs and ass look wonderful, honey! Now... get downstairs and get to work!" It was difficult pretending to stumble clumsily for my first few steps (since I'd been wearing heels for longer than SHE had), but I think that she bought it. I almost plunged down the stairs, in fact, and she made a move to catch me, asking, "Oh my god, honey - are you alright?" The rest of my weekend was spent in that little outfit - heels, apron and cap - as I provided for her every whim. And thus, the track to my eventual and inevitable servitude was laid. The chill of the champagne broke my reverie. Quickly, I placed the bottle and glasses on my silver serving tray, along with the freshly coated strawberries, and then I crossed the kitchen into the dining room. The stairs were a little more difficult since I couldn't hold on to the railings, but I negotiated them expertly (I'd had a lot of practice). The door to Mistress' bedroom was open (a strict prohibition when She was at home - the door was otherwise to be closed at all times); I entered and placed the champagne in the waiting ice bucket. I left the flutes on the tray with the strawberries and made a final glance around the room. Oh my god - the candles! I forgot to put out the candles! I minced promptly to the bathroom where I keep the lavender candles, passing Her bathroom's full-length mirror along the way. What a sight. I ashamedly admitted to myself that this had become my favorite image: my corseted torso locked into a sheer black satin maid's uniform, with frilly white petticoats barely covering the tops of my black seamed stockings, all atop a pair of my 5-inch "working" heels... that were cunningly locked to my slim, stockinged ankles. My whole body tingled at even the briefest glimpse of my transformed image. I couldn't help thinking about how far I'd come since my first time in this uniform - about how much more feminine and graceful I appeared now... What had started as an innocent every-other-month "play date" had awoken something in my wife I'd desperately wished might be there: a love of her power over me. The repeated sessions of me in uniform and "in her service," as she liked to call it, seemed to excite her, and gradually, she had me serving her almost every other weekend. My first few times in service were spent in my original uniform of apron, cap and heels. After the third time, she commented on how much better I'd look if my legs were shaved; after the fifth or sixth time, she'd had me keeping my entire body free of unwanted hair. For me, this was wonderful, I'd always wanted to be completely shaved; I was reveling in all the changes she was "forcing" on me! Little did I know how far she'd push me. During those weeks and months, my wife also began to make little slip- ups when talking about my service. Sometimes when I wasn't "in service," we'd talk jokingly about the "maid" in the third person, as if I wasn't the maid. And as the weeks progressed, she increasingly referred to the maid with feminine pronouns - "she" or "her." It was sometime during the 6th or 7th month after engaging in this progressively perverse diversion that she promised - almost threatened - to take our games a little further. We'd been planning to take some time from work for a small week-long vacation, and a few weeks before the time arrived, I realized that we hadn't made any travel arrangements. "Don't worry about the details, honey," she'd said. "Let me surprise you!" As I left for work the Friday before our vacation, I noticed several UPS boxes on the front porch, but I was late and didn't have time to open them or even look to see to whom they were addressed. As if that wasn't enigmatic enough, I logged onto my email around noon, and immediately noticed something from my wife with the subject line: "Know any good local dress makers?" There was nothing in the body of the email. When I returned home from work that evening, the UPS boxes were stacked in the foyer - and one of the return addresses was from a neighborhood only 15 miles away. There was a white envelope on top of the boxes. Its only adornment was the word "Maid". Inside, the letter read: "Maid: "As you know, I'm vacationing this week. Although I don't plan to travel, I still anticipate a time of complete relaxation, and expect that you will attend to my personal needs for the entire week. Therefore, you are expected to be in service from the time I arrive home this evening until next Sunday evening. Perfect service will be rewarded, and you will be appropriately disciplined for any deficiencies. "As your usual terms of service don't include the weekdays, you will be compensated for your extra efforts. That extra compensation is contained in these boxes. You may take the boxes to your quarters, and use the gifts inside to prepare yourself for your week of service. "I expect dinner to be ready by 7:30. "Mistress Lisa" My breath had gotten quicker with each paragraph. An entire week in service? I was ecstatic! I quickly gathered the boxes and rushed upstairs to the bedroom... only to find the door locked. What? And then I looked at the letter again - "You may take the boxes to your quarters..." did she mean the guest bedroom? Indeed she did; the door even bore a small printed sign that read "Maid's Quarters." I tore into the boxes the instant I put them down. The first was from Voller's and contained two corsets: one heavily boned in black satin and another, less severe one in nude. The black corset's waistline looked quite forbidding and I shuddered to think how small it could get my waist with the proper training. The next was from an eBay seller in Arizona, and contained two utilitarian but formal black "Bonne Bonne" uniforms, four white cotton aprons, and a small white cotton cap. The third box was from Secrets in Lace and contained 4 pairs each of black seamed stockings and sheer nude stockings. They felt wonderful in my hands, giving me goose-bumps as I wondered what they'd feel like on my smooth legs. The box also contained two Rago body briefers, one each in colors to match the corsets, several pairs of satiny panties in assorted colors, and several bras. The fourth and final box was the one with a California postmark, from a company called "Fashions 4 Fetish." It wasn't heavy, but was quite large. My heart jumped into my mouth as I opened it and saw the wonderful treasures inside: two beautiful satin English maid's uniforms (one in black, and the other in a wonderfully feminine light pink!), a short white satin apron, a larger white satin pinafore, two billowing and frilly white lace petticoats, and two cute little maid's caps to match the uniforms. The pinafore was even embroidered with the words "Sissy Maid Tami!" I picked up the pink uniform and held it to my torso, then turned quickly to the small full-length mirror on the wall. But I couldn't focus on my reflection (noting later that the uniform was the perfect length, of course), because the view was blocked by another envelope taped to the mirror. It, too, was labeled "Maid." Laying the uniform on the bed, I quickly opened the second letter from my Mistress. "Maid: "By now I suppose you've opened your gifts from me. Remember that they are given to you as compensation for the additional service you will be providing during the week ahead. As I've spent a great deal of my personal time and money to acquire these uniforms for you, I anticipate nothing short of perfect service this week. And perfect service means perfect appearance. "To that end, you will do the following before donning your uniforms: - Strip and place all of your current clothes into the garbage bag near the door of your Quarters. You will deal with these later. Shower and shave completely, as you've been instructed in the past. "Following these preparations, you will slip into the cream body- briefer, the tan corset, and a pair of the tan stockings. Although I suspect my new sissy maid will want to don the frilly satiny ones first, I expect you to wear the formal black Bonne Bonne uniform tonight. "Oh yes, maid, one more thing: please don't touch your little dick until I say you can. As of the moment you read these words, you are strictly forbidden from masturbating without my express permission. "Now hurry along, maid. You have a lot to do... don't keep me waiting for dinner. "Mistress Lisa" I must admit that I'd unknowingly started to stroke my swelling erection through the front of my pants as I read the letter, and it took a near- Herculian effort to pull my hand from the turgid shaft. Barely believing what was happening, I re-read the letter several times, sensing the growing fullness in my loins growing with every word. And did she actually write "little dick? Those words rekindled a humiliation I'd harbored for several years - that my small penis never really brought her the sexual satisfaction she deserved. Seeing the words written in her hand brought back the shame in a wave... but it was also a powerful aphrodisiac, making my already swollen member even harder. God, I wanted to touch it, to relieve the pressure building up! Showering without touching my erection was a challenge. I admit that I stroked it a few times - I couldn't help myself - but I was actually good enough to refrain from orgasming. Shaving made things even worse - I LOVED being smooth - and when I dried off and slipped into the stockings, I was as hard as I could remember. Putting on the body briefer was next to impossible, but somehow I was able to tuck my little member into the tight confines of the briefer's attached girdle. Attaching the garter tabs to my stockings further inflamed my already aching loins, and with a great breathless effort, I laced the corset around my torso. Finally, I was ready to wear the uniform. She was right - I would rather have slipped into the smooth satin uniforms from Fashions 4 Fetish! But I followed my Mistress' orders and pulled on the black formal (and somewhat plain) Bonne Bonne maid's dress. I finished the uniform with the accompanying pair of 3" black heels. I looked a little funny, sans make-up and breasts - a woman from the ground up, but clearly a man above the collar. I giggled silently to myself, remembering how silly I must have looked that first time in full uniform: certainly not man, not quite woman, but definitely headed toward sissy. I'd since learned a lot about make-up, and She'd had the sense to outfit my chest with silicone breastforms. I checked the time again, and took another glance around the room. The candles' calming scent was lovely, and served to slow my racing heart, soothe my frustrated loins, and... well, they did nothing to help my aching feet. I triple checked my slim watch, and finding I had a few rare moments to myself, sat carefully on the ottoman. I shivered as as my hands slid down my stockings toward my tender soles, and I sighed in relief at the thought of massaging them for 30 seconds. But the shiver became an electric shock as my fingers met the tiny padlock that securely fastened the 5" heels to my ankles. Unable to stop my fingers from twisting and turning in their vain attempt to ease the strain of the wicked shoes, I groaned in frustration. I pulled at the lock, its unexpected heft confirming the futility of any efforts to slip them from my feet, and I plunged again into reverie. I had finished my afternoon chores and was sitting at the kitchen table, when I heard the front door open. Her unexpected footsteps in the foyer made my breath catch. I was trying frantically to put my heels back on when she walked into the kitchen - and stopped suddenly. The reproach on her face was enough to make my toes freeze halfway into the vamp. "Hmm." She put her shopping bags down, stood straight and folded her arms over her chest. She stood there, as if waiting for something... and even began tapping her toes impatiently. Sensing her increasing displeasure, I finished replacing the shoes on my sore feet, and stood up apprehensively, hands folded over my apron, eyes downward, expecting the worst. She paused a moment, letting me suffer her silence while she gathered her thoughts. When she spoke, her tone was quiet, her command curt:"Take these bags to my room, then come back here." I knew better than to utter even a single syllable in reply. I curtseyed and let my quick execution of her orders serve as an affirmative response. Depositing the bags in her closet, I paused briefly in front of her full length mirror to put my uniform in order before mincing downstairs to the kitchen. She was waiting there at the kitchen table, legs crossed, back straight, face sober. "What was it you were doing when I came home?" Her perfect nails tapped the tabletop peremptorily. My cheeks flushed. "I... well, um... my feet really hurt, Ma'am, so I... I was trying to massage them. I had finished all of my cho..." Her interruption was abrupt. "What are my expectations for your uniform, maid?" "I must... um... That I'm to be completely uniformed when I'm in service, Ma'am." "And would you say that your uniform was 'complete' when I came home just now?" The change in her countenance was almost imperceptible, but the hint of an ominous smirk began to curl itself into her lips. Her perfect, full, red lips. A bead of sweat formed at my temple. "I only took it off for... I mean, my shoe was right here..." "A simple 'yes' or 'no' will do, maid." She emphasized the questions with brief but cautionary pauses. "Was. Your uniform. Complete. When I came home just now?" The bead of sweat fell into the corner of my mascaraed eye and I witnessed my own trembling in the drops' refracted light. I could barely breathe the words, "No, Ma'am." "No. No it wasn't. Have I ever given you permission to remove part of your uniform while you're in service, except when changing serving dresses or going to bed?" "No, Ma'am." "Then what gave you the idea that it would be OK to do so? Was it the fact that I wasn't home?" "I... well, I didn't think tha..." "Tell me, maid. Would you ever remove part of your uniform in my presence?" "No, of course not, Ma'am!" "Then what gives you the audacity to assume that type of behavior would ever be acceptable whether I'm home or not?!" "I... I don't know, Ma'am. I just didn't think..." "Yes, maid, you've mentioned that. You just didn't think. That's obvious! You didn't stop to consider how I'd feel about your poor conduct, did you?" My cheeks were on fire, the nape of my neck wet with nervous sweat. "No Ma'am, I didn't." She let me brood in silence for a moment. "Well, how do you propose that we resolve your confusion about my simple instruction?" I could sense the precipice approaching, but I could do nothing to stop sliding towards it. "I... umm... I could promise not to remove my uniform, Ma'am?" "Maid! You already promised me that! And see how well that worked out? No, that's obviously not a solution for your bad behavior. And since you won't be able to come up with an adequate resolution, I will. "In fact, I already have." With those words, she dropped four little padlocks onto the table. One. By. One. The curl in her lips that had begun a few minutes ago was now a mischievously wicked smirk. "Yes, that's right, maid. Since you've clearly shown you lack the self-restraint to obey a simple instruction, these little locks will provide the real restraint. "And since you're about to endure the full consequences of an incomplete mistake, you may as well finish it now. Strip down to your briefer and stockings. Immediately." I couldn't believe what I was hearing, what was about to happen. Was she really going to lock me up somehow? "But, I'm not supposed to undre..." "Right now, maid! And recognize this will be the last time you'll ever be out of your complete uniform in my presence." Blushing as much from my apparent indiscretions as from my ironic near- nakedness before my own wife, I was soon standing in stocking-feet before her, head bowed and body trembling. I watched with dismay as she stood, collected the locks from the table, and instructed me to gather my doffed uniform. "Follow me," was all she said. On the desk in her office were 3 plain brown boxes. I took my assigned position in her office as she walked to sit behind the desk. Her lioness' grace emphasized the danger that lurked beneath her ladylike exterior. I gasped slightly. "You can put that uniform down, maid. You won't be needing it tonight." Again, that smirk. I placed the dress and my troublesome shoes on the chair by the door, then returned to my proper place. She must have seen the dawning of understanding on my face as her web's intricacies became clear to me, because her smirk intensified. In the few minutes that I'd used to take her shopping bags to her closet, she'd seemingly conjured up the locks and these boxes... "That's right, maid. I've suspected your bad behavior for quite some time. These packages have been sitting in my office for weeks, but it's only now that I've caught you in the act. And while you might otherwise call these 'presents,' they are gifts only to me in that I'll no longer have to actively police your dress code. You may open them now, maid." Even though my feet were unheeled, I teetered as I padded towards her large desk. The boxes were unmarked brown cardboard and closed by clear tape; she snickered under her breath as she handed me a small letter opener. I reached for the smallest box, but she stopped me enigmatically: "No maid, open the large one first. Save that one for last." The first contained something made of a shiny black material that crinkled dully as I removed it. I held it up, and the garment unraveled itself to reveal a long, narrow uniform in PVC. I looked at her quizzically, but she said nothing and motioned to the second box. This one was smaller but heavier, and I'm ashamed to admit that I gasped when I glimpsed inside: a sensually soft, steel-boned black satin corset. This time, she couldn't disguise the derisive snicker as she witnessed my reaction. Underneath the corset was a narrow black leather strap whose function I was about to discover. As I lifted the third box, I could see her smile widen. And she sat up slightly in her chair, as if to get a better view. The contents again made me gasp, but this time with distress. As I lifted out the impossibly high stilettos, their ankle straps clearly illuminated my wife's wicked intentions: these heels were meant to be securely locked to my feet. "Well, what do you think, maid? Isn't your new uniform gorgeous?" Her demeanor evoked the image of a Spanish Inquisitor calmly addressing his suspect. "I can't wait for you to put it on!" She stood up and started around the desk before I could voice an objection. Lifting the corset from its box, she sauntered towards me. "Let's get this on you first, shall we? Lift your arms, please." We'd played this game so long and so completely that her commands served as direct synaptic relays to my nervous system; my arms almost raised of their own accord at her order. I could feel the soft satin initially caress the body briefer's nylon panels... and then the corset's thick boning bit into my torso as she fastened the busk beneath my faux breasts. "Oh yes, this will be... fun," she giggled, walking behind me. "Deep breath in," she said, pulling the lacing grommets firmly into my back, then "Breathe out hard." My breath was as much exhaled by me as forced out by her. The grommets, lace, and boning seized my next inhalation, and my waist groaned against the satin's strain. Again, she giggled. "Almost there. Just a few more breaths. Like I said, maid. Fun!" After four breaths, my torso and waist were encased in a satin and steel prison that robbed me of virtually all flexibility and ventilation. I was lightheaded as I tried to control my shallow breaths while she walked back to the desk. When she turned around, she was holding the slim leather strap from the corset's box in one hand, and a lock in the other. "It's time for lock number one!" She sashayed back to me, taking the strap between her hands, stretching it around my ridiculously narrowed waist. I felt more than heard the strap's metal fitments snap into place, and was aptly breathless as awaited the next sound: CLICK. "A perfect fit! I just hope it's not too tight, maid," she chuckled as she ran her hands down the corset from bust to bum, pausing to pull firmly at the lock securing the diabolical device to my body. "What, cat got your tongue?" she teased as she went back to the desk. I could barely eek out a "No, Ma'am" with what little breath I had available. "Hmmm, good. I think I could do with a little peace and quiet." She turned back to me, and held the new uniform up to my shoulders. "Yes, this should be just right." She unzipped the back, and then presented the uniform's nape to me. The two metal loops situated behind the collar were subtle, but their function was obvious. "I'm having the same loops installed on every one of your uniforms, maid. From now on, you'll be locked into uniform, and released only when I turn the key." The irony of my wife helping me into my own punishment dress was not lost on me as I stepped into the unzipped opening. The uniform's skirt was hobbled, tightly confining my legs from waist to mid-calf; I knew it would severely restrict my steps. She'd had it tailored almost perfectly, too - it hugged my corseted waist and flowed upwards over my breasts and shoulders onto my neck. Its collar was high and stiff, forcing my head upwards at an almost-uncomfortable angle. Looking down would be next to impossible in this thing, and accomplished only by bending at my hips. I could hear the air draw between her lips as she zipped the dress into place. The silence created by our synchronously held breath amplified the kindling, smoldering love I had for this woman, and the CLICK ignited it to a lustful blaze. My girdled and pantied privates swelled uselessly beneath layers of nylon and plastic. I panted in frustration and constriction. She patted my PVC-clad rear, and giggled lightly. "Oh, that... that looks wonderful. You better hope I don't get attached to seeing you like that, maid." She stood back, arms crossed beneath her breasts, leaning slightly backwards on one heel, and ogled me up and down, smiling broadly. I wasn't sure whether the fire on my cheeks was more from pride or from humiliation. "And now, the pi?ce de r?sistance." She dangled the heels by their firm straps. "I just hope that these heels do justice to that uniform. Because I know they'll be doing justice to your feet." The satire practically dripped from her beautiful lips. "But... I didn't mean to... I... please, Ma'am..." "Oh you don't have to worry maid. You won't have to wear this uniform all the time. Only when you've been naughty. And you have been naughty, haven't you, maid?" "But please, Ma'am... do I have to?" I could barely imagine having those terrible things strapped to my ankles, much less serving her in them... I could barely hide my growing despair. She took only a single half-step forward, but the force of her anger was palpable. I cowered as much as I could in my restrictive regalia as she leaned toward me, her breasts heaving with exasperation. She took a long deep breath before she spoke. "I'm about to lose my patience with you, Tami. Don't you dare ruin this for me." She rarely called me by my sissy name any longer, preferring to call me 'maid.' She was on the brink of losing control and I sensed that my next actions would dictate the tolerability of the next few weeks. I bent at the waist and tried my deepest curtsey. "I'm sorry, Ms Smith." She straightened up and a quick sigh escaped her lips, taking a moment to regain her composure. "That's better. Now, where were we? Oh yes, the shoes. Aren't they lovely? I'm told they look wonderful when worn, but I didn't have the guts to wear them myself... much less walk in them." She smiled up at me as she knelt down to hold them to my feet. Again, the irony of the image we presented - a woman dressing her maid - must have been provocative. I gasped as her slim but strong fingers grasped my ankle, and even though I knew better, I attempted to pull away. The uniform just didn't afford me enough leverage to offer much resistance. Her annoyed glance upwards weakened my struggles, and she guided my toes into the vamp, my heel into the seat, my ankle into the fiendish strap. The second shoe was more difficult as I struggled to balance on one 6" stiletto. She smiled up at me one last time, and then... CLICK. CLICK. She stood up beside me, her gorgeous smile radiating power and delight. "Oh yes, the saleslady was right. They do look wonderful!" She slowly walked around me to survey her handiwork, and I could hear her breath quicken. She stopped behind me and placed one hand on my corseted waist overlying the locked belt, and the other on the lock behind my collar. "Oh yes. Much better." She pulled the locks backwards and leveraged me onto the towering heels, right to the edge of losing my balance. I felt her breath on my earlobe. "How do you like your new uniform, maid?" I knew better than to lie to her, but the mounting resentment I felt at my punishment's injustice was difficult to disguise. I could barely inhale enough to answer her. "I... I don't, Ma'am." "Hmmm," she murmured. "That's good. That's very good. Since it's your new punishment uniform, I had every intention that you'd dislike it. And after you spend the next six hours in it, I suspect that you'll hate it. So the next time you think about disobeying my rules, you'll remember how unpleasant this experience was." I didn't hear anything after 'six hours.' I'd barely been in the uniform for six minutes, and already my feet were simpering for mercy. I bit my lip to suppress a sob, but couldn't prevent a tear from tracking down my cheek. All I'd wanted was a little relief for my sore feet... and now this. This wasn't fair at all. Before I knew it, she was in front of me again, looking into my face with sudden kindness. She let her warmth soothe my increasingly despondent mood, and she reached up to wipe away my tear. "You know I love you, don't you Tami?" she asked."And you know that I would never do anything to really harm you, right?" Her tenderness was sincere, and I couldn't help but feel ashamed by my own indignation. "I know, Ma'am. It's just... it's..." "Shhhh," she whispered, placing her finger to my lips. "I know, I know. I know that your feet hurt. I know that you were only trying to massage them a little. And I know that you think this isn't fair." She moved her finger down my lips to my chin and lifted my eyes to hers. "But you know the rules. You know that you've broken them. And you know how unfair that is to me. Right, Tami? "Yes, Ma'am," I said, turning my eyes down in shame. "So... you and I both know that your bad behavior won't change unless we do... no, unless I do something drastic. And though you probably won't to admit it right now, we both know it's necessary. This punishment is what you require to be a better sissy, a better maid. And this punishment is what I demand to make sure you won't disobey me again. "I know this punishment is severe. But it's necessary, isn't it... maid?" In the instant of silence that hung after her question, I realized she was right. And ironically, it wasn't the crinkle of my uniform, or the tightness of my corset, or the agony of my heels that illuminated me. It was the frustratingly wonderful ache of my own little, impenitent penis swelling uselessly inside its securely locked chastity cage that proved to me how much I needed to be punished like this. By her... and for her. It was all I could do to muster a simple little curtsy and mutter "Yes, Ma'am." Her gentle kiss on my cheek fueled a fire that spread there as a blush... and erupted in my loins. "Hmmm." She groaned softly and then lightly bit my earlobe. "You know you've created a monster, don't you, my love?" Yes. Yes, indeed. For the remainder of that excruciating evening, I served her from the confines of my new "punishment uniform": gasping for breath beneath the crush of the tight corset, struggling for balance with every hobbled step, sweating intolerably below the oppressive vinyl dress, and teetering achingly atop the 6" punishment heels. After my service that night, which could serve as another story, I never again considered removing my shoes - not for a millisecond. Even if they weren't locked to my feet. Which they are. And I'm happy to report that I've spent less time in my punishment uniform during the last 2 years than I did that first agonizing night. Time had gotten away from me; my Wife was expected home anytime. I stood up from the ottoman, the ache in my feet all-too temporarily relieved, and took one last glimpse around the room to ensure everything was perfect for Her arrival. Champagne, strawberries, candles: all perfect. I minced to her bed - the one I used to share with Her - and began the turndown service that She had come to expect. I folded the heavy duvet at the foot of the bed, pulled back the top sheet, and fluffed the pillows. I gasped. Her scent wafting up from the sheets - an intoxicating mixture of Her perfume and Her musk - triggered the relay between my olfactory and reproductive organs, and I nearly swooned. Fortunately, one trembling knee and my shaking arms barely kept me from collapsing onto the carefully prepared sheets. That brief, wonderful whiff had caused my little organ to swell instantaneously - and uselessly - inside its metal cage. And despite Her strict instructions to the contrary, one hand found its way beneath my flared petticoats... only to bang against the steel faceplate of my Neosteel belt. My back arched, my head tossed backwards, and I moaned in lust and frustration as my fingers tried desperately to caress even a small portion of the flesh that was secured under that wonderfully and wickedly crafted steel. All to no avail, which was exactly the way She... no, we wanted things to be. I thought I had timed things just right, but the sound of the garage door opening informed me that I hadn't. My fingers were working furiously on my little swollen dick, and it took an enormous effort to stop their masturbatory ministrations. I shuddered as the panties slid back into place and brushed against my sensitized crown... and remained unaware that my misbehaviors had left a telltale blush of precum on the pink satin. I rushed downstairs to greet my Mistress, hastily straightening my petticoats, skirt, and apron, and barely made it to the door before she entered. "My, my. You look flushed, honey." I curtseyed and looked at the floor. "You... you just surprised me a little, ma'am, that's all." I hadn't quite caught my breath, and I could feel the fire on my cheeks left there by my hurried attempts to hide the evidence of my suspended self-pleasures. The delay in her response was ominous. I watched her hand drop the handbag to the floor before rising to lift my chin so she could look in my eyes. "Oh, Tami! You've been doing it again, haven't you?!" My shame wouldn't allow me to hold her gaze, and I turned my eyes toward the floor as I answered. "I... I don't know what you're talking about, ma'am." She sighed and her voice lost whatever warmth had been there previously. "Stand at attention, maid. Hands behind your back. And don't you dare move." Cringing, I did my best to stay still as she lifted my skirt and petticoats, hoping futilely that my diminutive dick had deflated enough to pass inspection. It apparently hadn't. "Goddamnit, maid!" She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the spare bedroom, standing me in front of the full-length mirror. My cheeks were crimson, and I witnessed my own trembling in the reflection. "Lift your pettis right now, maid. Show me your panties!" The stained satin left no question as to my activities prior to her return. Somehow, I blushed even harder - ashamed as much by touching myself as by lying to her about it. My still barely-tumesced penis visibly shrank beneath its satin confines, ironically accentuating the blemish it had dripped there. "God, I want to slap that little thing so hard right now." How she restrained herself from doing so, I don't know, but the look of disgust on her face was almost a more punishing blow. She turned and walked out of the room, the clicks of her heels pounding into my abashed eardrums, and I frantically lowered my skirts and straightened my apron. "Get me a glass of wine." While I fetched her drink, I thought back over the past few months. She had caught me masturbating on more than one occasion. Initially, she admonished me with mild warnings and verbal scoldings, and later, I was relegated to spending time in the corner. Eventually, however, when my promises to stop touching myself were broken, she had resorted to spanking. And not just my pantied ass. On a few recent occasions, she had even taken to smacking the front of my panties. By the time I'd opened the bottle, poured the glass, and presented it to her on my silver serving tray, she had retired to the couch. She didn't look at me as she took the glass, pointing to the floor in front of her. I curtseyed, put down my tray, and knelt before her feet, knowing what was expected of me. Removing the heels from her stockinged feet, I pressed my thumbs into her soles to massage away her day's tensions... and her strained reactions to my bad behaviors. Twenty minutes later, she had visibly relaxed, the massage and the alcohol blunting her exasperations. Finally, she could look me in the eye again. "I had a pretty nice day, but catching you in the act - again! - just ruined it, Tami." I knew I was in trouble when she didn't call me 'maid,' and I trembled. She raised an eyebrow and said, "I have half a mind to make you go upstairs and change out of all your frillies." She just stared at me, her mouth curling into a smirk, knowing that I would find the threat of dropping our roles to be almost unbearable. I must have recoiled slightly at the thought, because her smirk turned to a small frown. "Hmmph. I thought so." She shook her head in disdain and held out her glass. "More wine." I stood up, curtseyed, grabbed my tray, and hurried to the kitchen. When I returned, she was still lounging on the couch, but her displeasure had palpably waned. She took the wine from the tray as I bent forward to deliver it, and held my gaze with her crystal green eyes while I returned to my attention stance. She sipped from her glass, continuing to stare at me. "Should I make you change, Tami? Should I ruin your weekend by making you take off your beloved uniform?" I tried to stammer a reply, but she continued. "I think that would be a fair trade, actually - you ruined my evening, I get to ruin your weekend. What do you think about that? In fact, maybe we should just stop this whole thing... and drop the pretense of your service to me. How would that be?" I blushed and I again tried to whisper an apology, a plea to continue, a pledge of my devotion, but her admonished scowl stole the breath from my words. "Just stop, Tami." She took a long draught from the glass, then sat forward, crossing her lovely legs at the ankles and folding them along side her while she perched on the cushion gracefully. "No." Her authoritative tone had softened somewhat. "No, I'm not going to do that, Tami. I love you too much." She looked up at me, sighing quietly. She put the wine down on the side table and pointed again at the floor before her. I knelt quickly and she looked down at me. "I'm not going to spoil your weekend, honey. I know you've been looking forward to this for a while. But Tami, you must realize how unfair this is for me. Don't you?" The implication was lost on me. "But, I'll be your maid the whole weekend, taking care of you, serving you, doing as you ask... why is that... I mean, I don't understand how that's unfair, ma'am." "Oh Tami." She took my chin in her palm. "What's unfair is that this whole thing - the entire sissy-maid-slash-Mistress scenario - is entirely dependent on you. And that little dick of yours." The confusion must have been written on my made-up face, and she shook her head. "You don't get it, do you? Your little dick is going to screw this whole thing up for you, Tami. Every time you touch yourself, there's a distinct chance that little thing between your legs will wreck all the efforts I put into making our situation work. Do you think it's easy for me to get into the role of Mistress? Do you think it's easy to take the man I thought would be my husband and make him become my sissy, my maid? And just when I'm really into it, when I'm about to reap my just rewards, you start pulling on that little dick and voila! You know good and well how you dislike playing the sissy role after you cum... and I'm left with a drab, spent husband for the next few days. That's what isn't fair, Tami." It was true. Those times after I'd masturbated to orgasm, I wanted to completely disengage from the sissy maid role. It wasn't even that I'd become disobedient or defiant - I'd just stop playing the role altogether. My cheeks blazed with shame; the disparity should have been obvious to me and I felt terrible that my wife, the woman who I was supposed to love and serve and worship, had to explain it so simply. A tear formed on my mascaraed lashes. I gulped and looked into her eyes, taking a chance of harsh punishment by using her first name. "I'm so sorry, Lisa. I... I didn't even think of that. I feel awful." The tear fell onto her finger. "Oh Tami." She leaned forward and put her lips close to mine. "I know you didn't think of it. But even now, I'm worried that your little dick's lust will overpower your weak-willed best intentions." She moved her hands down to my skirts, under the petticoats, and found the swelling lump in my satin panties. "See what I mean? Don't lie to me, Tami. I know you want to touch this little thing right now. And then our whole weekend - and perhaps what's to come after it - will be spoiled." She gently rubbed up and down, caressing the satin into my little erection. A tiny moan escaped my lips and I could barely keep my pelvis from pushing back against her hand. I looked desperately into her eyes. "Oh, please Mistress. I promise to serve you this weekend, to be the best maid I can be. I promise not to touch myself. Please may I be your maid for the weekend?" She bit her lip, but stopped her hand's motions, keeping it pressed onto my panties. "See? See how obedient you are when you're horny? I love it when you serve me well, honey. It excites me. This is what makes me want to be your Mistress again and again. You can be such a wonderfully attentive servant when your lusts maintain your drive to be the best maid you can be." And then she slapped my pantied privates. Hard. I whimpered, bit my lip, and attempted to retreat my pelvis from her disciplinary swat. She just pressed her hand onto the front of my panties, harshly squashing my little dick and balls. "But then you cum, and everything crashes down. All my efforts - all my excitement - is wasted! It used to just make me sad when you did that, but now it's starting to make me mad." I tried to stammer an explanation, an apology, a promise to stop, but my breath had been stolen by my well-deserved panty-slap. "Do you think that my scoldings are just 'part of the act,' that I'm only pretending to be angry for your sake? I actually hate that you don't obey me about this, Tami. What's the point of playing these roles if you can have your fun and then walk out while I'm left unfulfilled? The last time you did it, I was really into my role as your Mistress - and you ruined the whole thing for me. I'm tired of that, Tami, and I don't want it anymore. Do you understand?" Before I could reply, her hand began caressing my pantied penis again... pressing the satin around the sensitive shaft. My breath caught again. "Don't you like being my maid? My little sissy?" I couldn't help it. The combination of her ministrations and her words caused my aching member to swell, despite my fear that she would only slap it soft again. But she continued her caresses as she leaned forward and cooed: "Hmmm. You don't have to say the words, honey. Your little dick has already told me the answer." Oh god. I only then realized she was playing this game beautifully... she knew the combination of the words "maid," "sissy," and "little dick" were subconscious triggers to my subservience. I gasped as her lips curled into a wicked little grin, and my satin-covered erection pressed into her increasingly seductive fondling. "Yes, that's right. You do want to be my little-dicked sissy maid. And I want to continue being your Mistress. But I'm not going to continue to put all this energy into it, only to have you disobey me, jack off, and walk out of our fantasy without a second glance. It's not fair to me, Tami." "I won't do it anymore, ma'am. I promise." I could barely whisper the words. "But you've promised before. Despite scoldings, spankings, and hours spent in the corner, you continue to touch this little thing. And here we still are. No, we need something more definite." Oh god. This was a moment about which I'd been fantasizing for years, but which I'd never really thought would happen. I knew I was perched on the precipice of a dangerous slope and I could feel my 5" heels already slipping on its slick surface. My heart was racing, my stomach was in knots, and my penis was straining desperately beneath my satin panties and her warm palm. My cheeks leapt into flame as she spoke her last words, "something more definite;" and as I looked up into her eyes, I could see she knew all of my thoughts and lusts clearly. A small little smile crossed her lips. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you Tami?" "Yes Mistress, I think I do," I whispered. "I want you to say it, honey. Tell me what we need to do." "You want me to be... I mean, I have to be..." My words drifted off as I caught my breath. She slowed the tempo of her massage to a standstill as if to steady me, then leaned forward and murmured in that low seductive purr, "Just tell me what you want, love." With a strength borne of my ever-growing submission, I looked into her gorgeous green eyes and uttered the words that would push me over that steep slope down which I'd wanted to tumble for so long: "I want to you to chastise me, Mistress." I'll never forget her reaction. Simultaneously, she inhaled slightly, lightly bit her lower lip, and half closed her eyes. "Yes." Her lips were impossibly close to mine; the sweet syllables she breathed next rang in my ears for the rest of the night: "And I want to chastise you, my little sissy." She bit her lip again, her mouth hanging there so close to mine, torturing me with the promise of its intimacy. The moment seemed to hang for hours. And then just as abruptly, she leaned back to sit upright again, lightly patted my fully-engorged and satin-clad organ, then withdrew her hand from beneath my petticoats. "Hmmm... I love that you've given me this gift, honey. I can't tell you how much it excites me, how much it makes me love you! But Tami, and this is very important... are you really sure that you want to go down this road? I mean, I'll literally hold the key to your sexual pleasure. You understand that, don't you?" I could hardly breathe. "Yes Mistress. I understand. And..." I tried to take another deep breath. "And it's what I want. I want you to have control. I just don't want it, I... I need it, Mistress." Here goes, I thought to myself! "I want to be your chastised sissy maid... so I can better serve you." "Oh Tami. You don't know how long I've wanted you to say this, to tell me you want me to chastise you. God, it makes me so hot, thinking about controlling your orgasms." She was visibly aroused - her nipples erect against the light material of her blouse, her hips circling almost imperceptibly on the couch, her breath coming in quick little gasps. "But I'm going to give you one last chance to back out now, Tami. I'm serious about this, and I need you to be too." And then a smile I'd never seen, flickered across her lips. It was a smile I'd come to know quite well in the coming months. "Because I think I'm going to really like keeping your little dick all locked up..." (There it was again: "little dick." God, how that fueled my fantasy to be locked up by her - as if the little thing wasn't good enough for her. She'd read my thoughts and used them perfectly and subtly against me. But I was smitten, and far enough down the road to know that I couldn't turn back.) "...Tell me now that you don't want to be locked up and I won't. We'll probably play from time to time, but I know you'll lapse back to your old ways and start misbehaving again; you just can't help yourself. And eventually, I'll lose my desire to be your Mistress. We'll settle back to our old boring roles again..." (I knew what she would say, even as she uttered the words. The logic seemed so inescapable, the truth, so pervasive. Of course I'd go back to touching myself... how could I not?! What I hadn't expected was that she'd tire of the fantasy. And it was obvious to me now that she would.) "...Or, you can give yourself to me in the most intimate way I can imagine. Tell me you'll wear my chastity, that you'll willingly relinquish control of your orgasms to me so that we can have a deeper, closer, more intimate relationship. I'll become an even better Mistress; I know you'll become my perfect little well-behaved sissy maid. We'll get to live out our darkest fantasy... and yes, honey, I know you've dreamed about this for years. It's time to say yes, my love. Do it for me. Do it for us. "Tell me what you want... maid." The final word hung in the air like a drop of rain caught in the strobe of a still-motion camera. She had wielded its use perfectly, reminding me what I wanted, what I needed. And it declared without a doubt who I was to become: her maid. Willingly. Happily. Forever. Still kneeling before her, I straightened my skirts and smoothed my apron before gazing directly into her autumn eyes. "Mistress Lisa, I want - I need - to be chastised by you and for you. I am already your sissy maid. I want to become your chastised sissy maid, as well. I want to wear the chastity for you, Ma'am. I want to wear it for us. "Please lock up my little dick, Mistress. Please chastise me." "Ohh." She inhaled the word, and then there was that smile again. Its presence startled me, and awoke something deep inside that I didn't expect to feel: a lust not only for her control, but for the cruel tantalization I saw playfully intimated by that smile. Even the hint of the incredible sexual power she would now hold over me was intoxicating. What had I gotten myself into? She stood up in front of me, lifted her hand, and then dropped something from her palm. It glinted as it hung before my face on a thin gold chain: a single gold key. "This is the only key to the device I'm going to lock onto you tonight, maid." Her voice had acquired a control that was thrilling... and a bit unsettling. Although I still sensed the tenderness and love that was there several moments ago, these sentiments were overshadowed by a raw power and lust I'd barely begun to glimpse. "After I lock it in place, I will wear this key as I wish, and I will use it when - and only when - I desire. That little thing between your legs will become my property. You will no longer have unfettered access to my soft, wet treasures. You will no longer be able to masturbate without my permission. You won't even be able to touch your little dick without my say so. I will have sole discretion about when - or if - you are allowed to cum. Your orgasms will be tied to my pleasure, to my satisfaction. Please me, and your time in chastity will be reduced; anger me, and your 'sentence' will be extended. And of course, I will be the sole arbiter of the intervals between releases. At first, it may be days. Later, weeks. But understand that in the future, my little sissy, you'll be wearing this for months at a time. "If you understand and accept these rules, maid, then kiss the key. Kiss my Key to your pleasure." It seemed to swing in the air there before my eyes for hours. Had she hypnotized me? My thinking was no longer clear; I was lost in the fog of lust that was fueled by my hammering heart, the butterflies in my stomach, and the swollen ache in my loins. As she looked down at me kneeling before her, inches from her soon-to-be inaccessible treasures, I could swear that I smelled her erotic musk. My last thought before I kissed the Key and sealed my fate was 'Her pussy must be soaking... God, I want to be inside her again! Please, god, just one last time...' As I leaned forward to press my painted lips to the warm metal, I heard her gasp. She had just orgasmed. Biting her lip, she slipped the chain around her neck. She breathed deeply as that smile crept across her face again, and she inhaled another "oohh..." She reached down to take my hand, and helped me to my feet. "Hmmm... I think the dishes can wait, maid. I have something else here that needs to be taken care of first." And then she did something she hadn't done before, and would rarely do ever again: she reached under my petticoats and snaked her fingers into my satin panties. As she wrapped them around my swollen member, she turned and started walking toward the stairs, literally leading me by my dick. She opened the door to her bedroom and led me inside. Sitting there on the bed, prominently displayed, was a little gift-wrapped boxes. Of course. It'd been sitting there all day, hadn't it? She'd played me like a fiddle, and I was sure the box contained the device that was soon to adorn my nether regions. "First, we're going to get you out of these panties, maid. They just won't do!" Impatiently, she pulled the front panel down, exposing my little erection. "Take them the rest of the way off, sissy." And with that, she released my swollen member, and began to strip her outer garments. Soon, her skirt and blouse were on the floor beside us, and she stood before me, regaled in that wonderful lingerie I had always longed to see her wear: bra, panties, garter belt, stockings, and heels. I'd barely gotten out of my own panties, when she wrapped her fingers tightly around my dick and started stroking back and forth. "Do you like that, sissy?" she smirked. The look on my face was one of obvious delight, so my answer was superfluous. "Oh yes, Mistress..." She reached to take the gift box from her bed, and then handed it to me. But she didn't stop stroking my now-aching erection and I could barely concentrate on tearing open the paper. When I opened the box, I gasped in lust, fear, desire, and sweet submissive humiliation. There was my dream, my dread: a black velvet bag tied with a silver string, embroidered with the symbols: CB-3000. The sight of it combined with her manual ministrations had taken me directly to the edge of orgasm. "Don't you dare cum yet, maid," she said sternly, squeezing my little balls with one hand and my dick with the other. Had the pain not pulled me back from the edge of cumming, the look of power and control on her face would have tipped me right over the cliff. "Ohhhh..." I moaned. "I'll take that as a 'Yes Ma'am.'" Again, that wicked little smile. "You know why I don't want you to cum, yet, maid? Because this is going to be the last one for a week, and I want it to be good." My eyes must have been the size of saucers, because all she could do was laugh out loud. "That's right, sissy. A week. Seven days. Seven long, frustrating, aching days. And I'm going to love every minute of it. So we better make sure this orgasm is really good, don't you think?" For as long as I could remember, I hadn't gone more than two or three days without masturbating. How was I supposed to survive the week? Or the promise of weeks, or even months in chastity?! Even though I'd dreamed about being locked up for weeks at a time, as I stood here on the verge of that fantasy, its reality came down on me like a cold rain. At that moment, the emotions flooded me, and a tear tracked mascara down my cheek. With that, she relaxed her grip on my balls and began to stroke my still hard dick again. "Don't worry, my little sissy, I'll take good care of you. You love and trust me, right? I won't do anything to really hurt you. I love you too much." She kissed the tear before it fell to my chin. "But don't get me wrong, sissy. I'm serious about this, and you know it's what we both want and need." Her stroking continued unabated, and I felt the tears beginning to melt away as my lust resumed its crescendo. "Protecting you from real harm doesn't mean I won't enjoy seeing you suffer just a little bit for me, though. Which is why I'm pushing you a little and forcing you to go a week before your next orgasm. "And now, my little sissy maid... open up the bag and take out your new chastity device, your new little plastic penis prison." I untied the bow and reached into the bag. The smooth, cool plastic that greeted my fingers was like an aphrodisiac; I wanted to pull out all of the goodies and finally view them in person! The first thing to come out was the actual cage: a short cylinder of clear acrylic whose end was shaped like the head of a penis with a moderate-sized slit on the end. The rest of the bag held what the company calls the "A" rings - clear plastic rings that fit behind the scrotum and then lock to the cage portion. A wonderfully simple and diabolical design. And although I knew she intended to keep me locked up for extended periods, I had no idea that this piece of plastic would encase my little dick almost continuously for the next 6 months. "Hmmm - isn't it beautiful sissy? Just seeing it makes my pussy wet!" Her use of those words indicated the degree of her lust... and it was beautiful. She was really working my erection now, and she'd moved her other hand into her satin panties, rubbing her delicious mound furiously. She moaned deeply before saying, "I can't wait to see it locked onto your little dick! Hmmm... are you ready to cum for me and let me lock it onto you, maid?" My lust was barely containable as she whispered that question. Her manual ministrations had me on the verge of orgasm and I was doing everything in my power to keep from cumming until she gave me permission... but I could feel that control quickly slipping away. "Oh please Mistress, please make me cum!"??With that, she pulled her hand off my dick, and I was pulled back into my unfulfilled state of anticipation. "Make you cum? Oh no, sissy. I hope you didn't expect me to do that icky job!" She giggled lightly and licked her lips as she slipped back onto the bed, her hand still inside her soaking panties. "No, sissy. You're going to do that all by yourself. And you'll do it while you're telling me how much you want... how much you need... to be locked into your pretty plastic chastity cage." She reached into the bedside table, pulled out the large dildo hiding there, and said tauntingly, "And you'll do it while you watch me fuck my wet pussy with this big rubber cock. To remind you what you'll be missing for the next week! Now... get to it, sissy! I want to see you in that cage!" I couldn't believe what was happening. Was I actually standing here before my wife, dressed in a frilly pink maid's uniform with 5" stiletto heels locked to my ankles, about to masturbate to orgasm so she could lock me into chastity? The reality was much more intense than my fantasies had ever been, and infinitely more erotic. Yes. This is what I knew had to happen. I reluctantly began to move my hand toward that part of my anatomy I treasured so dearly, when I stopped. I looked up to my wonderful wife (god, she looked beautiful laying there, removing her panties, rubbing that big rubber dildo over her glistening pink lips!), and asked "Mistress, may I please cum for you?" "Hmmm... that's a good sissy, asking me for permission." She paused to stroke that monstrous fake phallus up and down the opening to her glorious pussy several times before pushing it in with a gasp: "God, I can't wait any longer! Yes, sissy, you may cum for me. Remember to tell me what you want just as you're orgasming. "And don't spill a drop of that icky sissy cum on my carpet, maid!" Her own efforts with the dildo barely eclipsed my own as I hungrily grasped my little shaft and began stroking back and forth. My tempo was slow at first, but built quickly as I watched my gorgeous wife fill her wet vulva with that rubber cock. And she was watching me just as intently, biting her lower lip and moaning. My orgasm was upon me quickly as my lusts were overwhelmed by the unbelievably erotic image before me. But it was the realization that I'd willingly given up access to my wife's treasures for the next week that pushed me over the edge... and the cum gushed from my little twitching dick as I moaned in ecstasy. Her enthusiastic and vocal orgasm wasn't far behind. But while she luxuriated in her post-cum glow, I was quickly overtaken by the emotional anticlimax that always marked my masturbatory success. The reality of what was about to happen reinforced the humiliation that was flooding over me as I stood there before the carpet stain of my own semen... while being corseted, stockinged, heeled, and uniformed. She noted the change immediately, of course. The dildo still inside her, she commanded me to stand still: "Maid, don't you dare move, or I'll beat that little thing till it's purple." Her tone froze me in my tracks, despite my waning libido. "This is what you wanted... this is what I want. And I'm not going to let you get out of it." Looking me in the eye, she slowly pulled the thick cock from her wet pussy, giving me a full view of the stretched orifice as it popped out of her. Her breath caught in a little gasp as it slid out. She slid to the end of the bed and stood before me, taking my deflating penis in one hand and my just-defiled fingers in the other. "That was nice, wasn't it?" she asked playfully as she looked into my eyes and raised my cum-covered hand to her mouth before whispering, "I really enjoyed that." She slowly took each of my fingers into her lips to remove every last drop of semen. "Hmmm... and you obviously did, too." Amazingly, my libido started to flicker anew. Not a raging fire, mind you, but enough of a spark to quell my usual post-cum desire to ditch my "maid" persona. She must have noticed, too, because she started to lightly stroke my soft penis. "Hmmm yes, that's nice," she murmured, pressing her lips to mine, kissing me deeply, pushing her tongue between my lips... and forcing my own cum into my mouth. I jerked away in futility; she had grabbed the back of my head with one hand and my little dick with the other, pulling me closer to her. Her complete control in that instant stoked my fires even more, despite the salty- sour taste of my own cum being thrust into my lips. When she finally released our kiss, my little dick had begun to swell again, and my lusts were returning. She looked me in the eye and smiled naughtily. "Yes, I think you liked it a lot, didn't you, maid?" She was starting to pull my little dick with more vigor. "And I mean the whole scene - me telling you to jack off for me, to cum for me while you stood before my bed in your frilly uniform; me fucking myself with that big cock; tasting your own cum?" I blushed furiously, but the truth was written there in the fire on my cheeks. I loved it. "Y... yes, Ma'am," I whispered. "I did." Her green eyes glinted with delight, and she kissed me once more. "Now," she said, releasing my member and turning to the bed to retrieve the chastity cage, "We need to get this on you before your little dick gets all excited again! Hold up your petticoats, sissy." Like the time she locked me into my punishment uniform, I was captivated by the image of the Mistress kneeling before her maid... but before I had time to savor it anew, she'd placed the A-ring around the base of my shaft, behind the scrotum, and inserted the plastic post to which the penis cage attaches. This is it, I thought. Is this really what I've dreamed of all these years? I was trembling... I felt faint... but as I gazed down at her concentrating on the final assembly, the lamplight glinted off the key hanging 'round her neck. And it