Maid For It free porn video

MAID FOR IT by Throne Martin gave himself one more check in the full length mirror. He didn't know where his girlfriend Ava had gotten the maid uniform he was wearing, but it was obviously made for a guy. It neatly fit his slim- hipped figure, the front lying flat over his male chest. He smoothed down the short skirt, under which he wore very brief panties. Then he fiddled with the tiny apron. Finally, he adjusted the lacy cap atop his blond locks, which had been allowed to grow out, and were then cut and styled into a cute pageboy. Without inspecting himself he knew that there was no hair anywhere below his eyebrows. Regular treatments with depilatories had made sure of that. Ava hinted that she was considering a more permanent solution to masculine body hair growth. But Martin didn't want any of what had been done to him. He longed to return to being masculine. His appearance reminded him of how unlikely that was. He had been stuck in maid mode, every evening and weekend, ever since Ava had decided it was what should be. It was so shameful to have his gorgeous girlfriend see him this way. Ava, with her slender body, full bust, and round, ample rear end, mocked him with her eyes every time she looked at him now. The transformed boyfriend sighed. At least this evening's cosmetics weren't garish or outrageous. His eyebrows had been thinned and then darkened, eyelids tinted aqua, cheeks lightly rouged, and lips colored a dark pink. It could have been worse. Ava had mentioned more than once that she would like to see him with a whorish face, all his features exaggerated. This entire situation, he had to remind himself, was his own fault. Because Ava had been playfully stingy with sex, letting him serve her orally, but then telling him he should store up is desire for one big night, he had been driven to seek a prostitute. That hadn't gone well. The woman he unwisely chose turned out to be a dominatrix. She thought he was just pretending when, after she got him back to her place, he protested that he didn't want to be dressed like a girl or spanked. The Dom, who called herself Lady Cherise, was angry because she had wasted time chatting with him, taking him to her place, and showing him the dungeon. For her, time was money. So she cuffed him, took his phone, and got his trousers and shorts down around his ankles. After having a good laugh at his small penis, she made him tell her which number on his phone belonged to the girl who he was living with. Martin was so upset that he broke down and confessed about his limited sex life with Ava. His hope was that his girlfriend would get him out of this impossible mess. Then Lady Cherise phoned Ava and invited her over to collect her errant boyfriend. When Martin's love showed up, she was furious with him. He tried to explain everything and she made it plain that he was to blame. Her fury toward him did not abate. Yet she talked pleasantly to the black-clad Dom, thanking her for revealing his true nature. The girls shared a few glasses of wine and then Ava made Martin give the woman all the money he had in his wallet before Ava took him home. When they got there she was still angry, but thoughtful as well. She declared that there would have to be a set of strict rules for Martin. He was so embarrassed and scared that he agreed to do anything and everything she wished. Ava had him get a pen and piece of paper and dictated some regulations for his new life. He sat there writing them down, in frightened disbelief. This couldn't be happening. This is what he wrote. 1. Martin will absolutely and without question do exactly as he is told by Ava. 2. Martin will answer to 'slave', 'worm', 'loser', or any other name he may be called. 3. He will do all the housework, including hand laundering her panties. 4. Bathroom visits must be authorized. 5. Eating will be by permission only and he will consume whatever he is told to. 6. More rules may be created as needed -- with no limits. He was stunned but felt so cornered and guilty that he made no complaint. She tested him by making him strip naked and stay that way for the rest of the evening. While he was nude he had to run and fetch drinks and snacks for her. Ava made him strike awkward poses and hold them. At bedtime she had Martin kneel alongside the bed while she changed into her sexiest shorty nightie, minus the panties. She used her toes to tease his privates and got him hard almost immediately. He stayed there, trying not to whimper, while she sat on the edge of the bed. Her legs were slightly parted and he could glimpse the downy golden hair on her mound. "So, you went to that Lady Cherise because you like to be bossed around. And I could tell from all those girly clothes she had on display that your main kink is being dressed up pretty." "But..." What could he say? That he had only been seeking a regular prostitute? That wouldn't be much better. "Isn't that true?" "I didn't know she was... a specialist." "Oh? You never noticed the studded leather collar around her neck? Or that she was dressed entirely in black? And that she had on tall boots?" "A lot of women wear boots," he argued weakly. "With spurs?" "Well, no." "So what you want is what she was going to give you. Well, I'm your girlfriend, so doing that should be my job. And I want to make you happy, Martin. Or maybe you'd rather be called some swishy name. How about... Muffin? Sounds perfect for a secret sissy who's about to get what he craves." He was too upset and confused to defend himself. Instead he merely said, "Yes, dear." "So tomorrow morning you can post that list on the fridge with a couple magnets. The red heart-shaped ones. Then make me coffee and wait for me to come to the kitchen. Of course, you can't eat or drink anything until say. And don't forget, no visits to the potty without my okay. Understood?" "Y... yes, dear." "That's my good little wimp. Now, it's time for bed. And getting close." She laid back, stretched out, and spread her shapely legs. "Come on, worm. Up onto the foot of the bed and get your nose up against my puss. That's right. I want to feel it touching me. Perfect. Take a deep breath through your nostrils. Rub the end of your nose in there. Get my scent on you. Yum. Now you can smell me all night while you dream about what you've gotten yourself into. No poking me with your tiny dick, Muffin. From now on the only thing you'll be putting into my puss will be your tongue. Which I'm sure will be thrilling to someone with your slave mentality. But now you've had the closest thing to sex that you're going to have tonight." Soon she was on her side with him spooning her. His little penis was stiff, pressed against her warm bottom. It was maddeningly frustrating for Martin. He tried to assimilate everything that had happened earlier and all she had said about his new status. Ava drifted off to sleep before long. Martin was up half the night, trying to sort out what lay ahead for him. His balls got sore and kept on aching. That had been six weeks ago. Now, in the maid role he frequently had to assume, he finished his check up in the mirror and went to the bedroom door. His stockings were straight. The tiny red heart he wore on a lace choker around his neck was centered. The curtain-ring sized earrings he wore were plastic and not heavy, but anytime he moved his head they swung so he was constantly aware of them. That was annoying but it didn't matter. What was important was that Ava had told him to wear them and that was what he was doing. Every time he nervously shifted his feet, he was reminded that his Victorian-looking shoes had thick, three inch heels. Sometimes he couldn't believe how proficient he had become in walking with them on. Or how accomplished he was at keeping his voice high and soft. All of that was filling his mind when he heard the ringing of a hand bell. Martin's back stiffened. He rolled his shoulders, trying to relax their muscles. Ava was summoning him and he had to go at once. Delay could cost him punishment. He moved into the hall and walked, with those heels making his gait more feminine, at the same time they enhanced the contours of his legs. Soon he was ready to enter the living room. He stopped one last time, wishing he could wake up from the bad dream his life had become. And then he raised his chin and went to answer Ava's call. She was sitting on the sofa, wearing a short, belted robe. He was almost certain there was nothing under it. She so loved to torment him with peeks of the body he could not possess. "Muffin," she said with a languid smile, "get me a glass of wine. The bottle is on the counter. I pulled the cork so it could breath. Didn't want to burden you with a difficult job like that. Now shake that pretty fanny and get moving." He gave her a curtsey. It was so shameful to have to wear the maid outfit and to be talked down to like that. He went away, putting one foot in front of the other as he took mincing steps. His oversized earrings swayed. In the kitchen he poured some white wine, put the glass on a small, round silver tray, and brought it to her. There was a coffee table in front of Ava. Martin bent forward from the waist as he had been trained to do. He knew how that made his bottom stick out, and how a recently hung mirror across the room gave her a clear view of that mortifying exposure. He thought again about his panties, which were so brief they revealed more than they covered. Leaving the tray and drink before her, he slowly straightened up. Ava lingered over her wine while he stood there like an exotic work of art. He couldn't help looking at her wet lips and how they glistened. His balls throbbed from not having sex while so often being in the presence of such a desirable female. He slipped into a trance of desire, frustration, and ever present shame. His mind was still in that state when a loud knock sounded on the door. A chill of dread ran through him. Who was there? Would they see him in his mortifying maid identity ? Martin bit his lips and feared the worst. "Well, Muffin," Ava wanted to know. "Aren't you going to answer that? It is part of a maid's duties. Even if she is scatterbrained and can't concentrate, she should be able to do at least that much." He nodded. "Yes, Ma'am." She liked him to use that form of address when she was speaking to him as the lowly maid he now was. Going to the door, Martin stood there for long seconds. Maybe whoever it was would go away. But then someone outside said, "Yo, let's move it." It was a deep male voice, with an impatient edge to it. A shiver ran through Martin as he gripped the knob, turned it, and swung open the door. Standing in front of him was a tall man with a crewcut, heavy jaw, and football lineman's physique. The male maid took a step back. "Hey," Ava called. "Come on in, Bull. Don't mind my sissy maid." The big man gave Martin a contemptuous sneer and pushed past him, almost knocking over the shorter and lighter figure. As Martin turned around he saw Ava rising and stepping out from behind the coffee table. She opened her arms and the big man she called Bull went to her. They embraced tightly and his hands roamed down her back to squeeze her butt cheeks. "Damn," he said. "I'm finally getting to see you in your own place. Sure feels good, babe." When they stepped apart she brazenly grabbed his crotch. He had on jeans and Martin couldn't miss the bulge between his muscular legs. Ava said, "This feels awfully good, too." He laughed and then kissed her, deep and long. Martin was sick with jealousy. Even after his fall from privilege he had still hoped that he could somehow mend the divide between Ava and himself, and that they could go back to being girlfriend and boyfriend. She had been going out in the evenings and he suspected that there was another man, but this painfully confirmed his anxious fears. As if Martin wasn't even there, the couple kissed again, running their hands all over each other. Or maybe it wasn't as if Martin wasn't there. Maybe it was more like he was there, but his presence simply didn't matter. He had heard of servants who were ignored, like they were less than people. "So," Bull wanted to know. "Who do I have to f*@k around here to get a beer?" "That would be me," Ava informed him. "But in the meantime, Muffin can scoot to the kitchen and fetch you one." "Muffin? Right. Good name for a soft fag like that one. Was he... she... really your boyfriend for a while?" "Until I found out I was living with a total pervert. But I felt sorry for the loser, so now I'm making her pansy fantasies come true. She loves to play at being my maid, to be ordered around, and to get disciplined whenever she steps out of line." From Martin she demanded, "Don't you, Muffin?" "Yes, Ma'am," he answered submissively. "Well," Bull snapped, "go grab me a beer, Muffy. And make it quick, unless you want some of that discipline." He pretended to think of something and went on, "Oh, wait. You really do want it." He gave a broad wink. "And maybe you'll get some." As Martin was leaving to get Bull's drink, he heard Ava say to her date, "I love the way you talked to Muffin. I mean, it got me wet where it counts. If you did give her some punishment, I know it would make me twice as hot as usual in bed." Just outside the room, Martin paused to hear more. He stood there hugging himself. "Yeah?" Bull said to Ava. "Well, I think his sissy ass could use a good spanking. You know, because he's taking so long to get me a brew." Martin brought up his hands and touched his fingertips to his painted lips. This was terrible. Ava would sometimes swat his fanny with whatever was handy. A plastic spatula, rolled up magazine, or foot long ruler. But if it was Bull wielding one of those implements, or smacking his wide hand against Martin's backside with the force he obviously could command, it would be terrible. And if it was his bare palm repeatedly slapping Martin's bottom, having another man touching him that way would be the worst humiliation he had suffered yet. He went into the fridge and saw that at some point Ava had stocked it with two six packs of bottles. Martin took one and brought it to Bull. He held it out to the big man, who was now seated next to Ava on the sofa. Martin's arm was trembling. Bull snatched away the drink, twisted off the cap, and took a long swallow. Ava scowled at Martin. "You didn't open my guest's drink? Oh my. That's a punishable offense. I think Bull should put you over his lap right this minute and show you what happens when you mistreat a visitor." Bull laughed heartily. "Not yet, Ava. Let me enjoy my beer. A freak like Muffin probably gets an extra thrill from having to wait. You know. Wondering how hard I'm going to swat her rump, how many times I'll whack it, and how red and sore it's going to get. She might be worrying that she won't be able to sit down after I'm done. Or maybe she's worried that she WILL be able to, and that I'm not going to be rough enough for her. Do you like to be treated rough, girl?" It was scary how quickly and deeply Bull had fallen into his role. And judging from Ava's hungry expression, she had gotten deeply immersed in his performance. She was also relishing Martin's visible dread, what the coming scene might be like, and how much noise the weakling in the maid outfit would probably make. Bull tilted the bottle up for a quick swig. He wasn't rushing to get to his appointment with Martin's ass. When he set his beer down, Ava leaned in for a kiss. He was happy to oblige, along with fondling her tits. Martin's nerves vibrated with impotent distress. He could do no more now than he could every time Ava demeaned him. But this was so much worse, having to watch their unrestrained make-out session, with his girlfriend so willingly participating. To Martin's shock, she opened Bull's pants and used both hands to get his cock hard. Martin goggled at how large it was. Over eight inches long and abnormally thick, with a big helmet of a head. In his mind he compared that with his own limited endowment and knew he could never compete. Ava happily stroked that impressive shaft, her slim fingers unable to fully encircle it. Finally, still manipulating him, she sent Martin to the kitchen to refill her glass and grab another beer for Bull. When he came back they were no longer together. Bull had moved a wooden chair to the center of the room and was sitting on it. Martin went first to his wife to deliver her wine. He bent over from the waist, despite knowing that he would make the back of his skirt rise and show off his panty clad bottom. Then he moved cautiously toward the seated man, who accepted the bottle, opened it, and tossed the cap to Martin. The sissy tried to catch it, bobbled the tiny object, and watched it fall to the floor. Martin froze. Obviously he had to pick it up. But that would mean bending over right in front of his tormentor. Squatting down was not an option. Martin thought about turning away so he wouldn't be displaying his butt, except that it might be obvious what he was doing, which could get him into more trouble. So he leaned over slowly, aware of the sight he was providing, especially with those abbreviated panties. His face grew warm and he knew he was blushing. Bull chuckled, a deep throaty sound. When Martin straightened up he was facing his wife, who was smiling maliciously. "Okay," Bull said. "Time for that spanking you intentionally earned yourself. I mean that you -- accidently -- earned yourself. Right?" "Y... yes, Sir," Martin answered respectfully. Ava said, "It could be worse, Muffin. At lease I put away Bull's marvelous cock. Aren't you glad about that?" "Oh, yes. Thank you so much," he gushed. "It would have really been awful if..." The words trailed off. He had said too much. His wife wanted to know, "Are you saying there's something wrong with my man's cock? Are you? Or maybe that you're afraid if it touched you, that might get you all excited and we'd see that you're even more of a sissy than we already know?" "I..." Martin had trouble speaking. "It's not... I mean, I'm still straight..." "Sure you are," agreed Bull. "Just like that guy in the locker room at the gym who I caught peeking at my schlong. He said he wasn't gay, even after I put him on his knees and fed him my meat. Or that one at the bar, who I had to take out in the alley, you know, to help him get in touch with his faggot side. They weren't gay either. It just turned out that they liked to suck my cock. Or maybe they didn't. But it was good for me either way." Martin realized, if Bull was telling the truth and not just trying to scare him, how very dangerous his situation was. The quivering husband pictured what those scenes might have looked like. And imagined how the unlucky guys on the receiving end could have been changed forever. "What do you think, Bull?" Ava asked impishly. "Should we take it out for my simpering sissy? I'm sure he'll like to feel it up close and personal. And Muffin, your blouse is in the way. Lower the top of your outfit and unbutton that blouse all the way down. Go ahead. Do it. Now." The submissive spouse slipped the straps off his shoulders and lowered the bib-style front of his outfit. He completely unbuttoned the blouse, baring his smooth hairless chest and tummy. Martin checked the big man to see his reaction. Unhappily for the husband, Bull was standing and dropping his pants and shorts to his ankles. When he sat again, he crooked his finger, signaling his victim to come closer. Martin went and Bull took him by his slender arm to pull him over his bare lap. Ava went to them and reached between their bodies. She fondled her lover's penis and got it hard, so that it stood up and pressed against Martin's side. "Damn," Bull exclaimed. "This pansy is really soft. I can't feel any muscles. And his skin is all silky like a girl's." "I know," Ava agreed. "I control his diet, so he gets extra calories every day. I'm getting him plumped up so he'll be more girly. I'm sure that'll make a pervert like him happy. And I have him use all sorts of special soaps and creams, to give him the skin you love to touch." "Well, I'll be touching it plenty in a few minutes," Bull stated as he flipped up the short skirt of the maid outfit. He pulled upward on the panties, wedging the narrow back section deep between Martin's pale buttocks. "And from what I'm seeing, it should color up real pretty." Martin whimpered. He was facing his wife so she would see his features the entire time. His butt was toward the mirror and she would have a reflected view of Bull slapping it. He hated that hard cock touching him. And being draped over Bull's firm bare thighs with so much skin- on-skin contact. Then Bull set his broad hand casually on one of Martin's bottom cheeks and left it there. The dominant man asked Ava to bring him his beer. She did and, while Bull held it in his free hand, she bent over to give him a passionate kiss. While they were sliding their tongues together, Bull began to paw Martin's rear. It was unthinkably shaming for the helpless victim. Bull's finger dipped between the vulnerable ovals and felt around. He found the tightness waiting there and poked at it. Martin yelped softly and began to whimper. As Bull toyed with the unprotected rosebud, Martin felt himself getting stiff. It wasn't possible. He didn't want physical attention from this man and yet he was reacting to it. When he involuntarily squirmed his hips he realized it might be taken as eagerness for more. Martin forced himself to stay still while the other two enjoyed one more deep kiss. Bull's hand stayed where it was, that active finger still applying pressure, easing off, and repeating those two movements over and over. Bull finally decided, "Better get on to the real action. If I touch his bum much longer, this Nancy boy is going to expect me to send him flowers tomorrow." Ava laughed. "There's probably other things you could give him that he'd prefer." She retook her seat and leaned forward avidly. Bull made Martin adjust his position several times, not because it was necessary, but just to deepen his mortification. At last the delays were done. Bull raised his arm and held it aloft for a long moment. Then he swung it down hard, delivering a loud smack to that upturned rump. Martin yowled and started writhing uncontrollably, but there was now a hand on the small of his back holding him firmly in place. Bull kept swinging, making Martin kick his small feet, holler even louder, and soon begin crying. As the male maid's bottom reddened, he tried to plead for mercy but pain turned those attempts to blubbering. Ava liked hearing him unable to speak. She was delighting in his helplessness. When Bull finished, he waited for Martin to settle down from wailing into merely sobbing, and then Bull lightly rubbed his ruby colored cheeks. His blunt finger returned to its former location and soon had turned those sobs to gasps of arousal. With perfect timing, Bull rolled Martin off his lap, so that he landed on the floor on his back. The seated man said, "Look at that, babe. Your maid has a midget hard- on." Ava pointed at the bump in the front of her husband's panties. "What a freak. Getting his little dick stiff from having a big strong man spank his pansy ass. Hey, Muffin. Want to play with your teeny wienie? Go on. Pull those panties down to your knees and give the pathetic little thing some tugging. Just don't make it squirt. You're not allowed to do that without permission." He did as he was told, even while saying, "Please don't make me do this. Not in front of you two. I mean, if I could go somewhere else..." "I don't think so, Muffin," his wife said. "It's much more entertaining this way." "Yeah," seconded Bull. "The wuss puts on a real show. Acting like she didn't enjoy that spanking. And now pretending she doesn't want to pull her pecker in front of us, which is probably one of her favorite fantasies." He used a high whining voice as he said, "Oh, Ava, please don't let the nasty man swat my fanny. Don't make me play with my pee wee prick. Boo, hoo, hoo." Ava chortled at the heartless impression. She said, "But we really should reward him for trying so hard to keep us amused. And I know just the way to do it. If it's okay with you, Bull, we should take him into the bedroom with us and let him see how a manly man handles a woman. Let the sobbing sissy see the difference between what he can do with his party-cocktail-size dick, and how you can make me cum with that weapon of yours." "Mind? I don't mind. Wish I'd thought of it myself." He got up, stretched his long arm toward Martin, caught him by the ear, then twisted and pulled at the same time. Making a sound like 'how-wow- wow-wow', Martin got clumsily to his feet, panties still partway down. Bull made him hold up the front of his skirt with that laughable erection sticking out, and Martin stumbled along as he was dragged to the bedroom. Ava followed, turned on by how sore her husband's buns looked. She wanted Bull's heavy cock so much that she started to moan from need. Once in the bedroom, Martin had to assume his maid role and turn down the covers, then fluff up the pillows. He was made to unnecessarily smooth down the sheets, while bent well over, his panties still at half mast. He was overwhelmed by shame. At last Bull gave him a slap on the ass and told him to kneel by the bed with his chin resting on the edge of the mattress. From that position, Martin had to watch the primed pair undress each other, get onto the bed, enjoy brief but spirited foreplay, and then position themselves for some serious sex. Ava was on her back, thighs wide apart and knees up, while Bull knelt between her legs with his monster cock rigid and dripping. He entered, stretching her wide, and began pumping, all in a matter of seconds. She made loud approving sounds. Martin couldn't close his eyes. He hated Bull for what he was doing, but envied his ability to do it. At the same time, not fully realizing he had started again, Martin was stroking his dick, out of sight of the busy, noisy pair. For the next half hour Martin had to observe his bride being gleefully ravished by an expert cocks-man. She squealed and panted, praised Bull and belittled Martin. As much as the cuckold wanted to say something, his abject cowardice prevented it. He cringed where he was, shamefully masturbating, careful not to take himself beyond the point of no return. The lovers reached a simultaneous crescendo of passion and then relaxed alongside each other. Martin was still rubbing himself and breathing hard. With their own sounds of lust silenced, they noticed his panting. Bull made him stand up. Ava said she was disgusted with him, and that he was no better than a masturbating monkey in the zoo. She told him to take his hand off his dick and squat down, which brought his face within easy reach. Ava stuck one finger into her overflowing pussy and gathered a generous gob of warm spunk. Warning her spouse not to move, she smeared it under his nose and even got some in his nostrils. "There. That's so you can smell the results of our lovemaking all night long." He whispered, "Thank you, dear." "And here's another helping. Pucker up, sweet cheeks." She rubbed mingled sex fluids all over his lips. "This will give your lipstick that moist look all the girls want. Ha!" She put more on his brow, cheeks and chin, saying it would work as an all-natural moisturizer. Adding a final dot on the tip of his nose, she then wiped her fingers clean in his hair. Bull cautioned him, "And don't dare clean any of it off, loser." "Yes, Sir. I won't, Sir." "Good. Now we're going to take a nap. So until we wake up for more sex, how about if you..." Ava finished for him, "... clean the master bathroom. I got you some new supplies for you to use. When we want you back, I'll ring my little bedside bell." He went disconsolately from the room, belatedly pulling his panties all way up. Those heels again gave him a feminine gait. When he glanced back, his wife was snuggled against her man, Bull's powerful arm around her. Martin's maid outfit was in disarray, so he did what he could to straighten it. He checked his make-up in the bathroom mirror. It was a mess but he didn't want to risk fixing it, because that might violate the order not to remove any of Bull's cream . He sighed and looked for the cleaning supplies his wife had gotten him. There was a pink plastic beach bucket, a yellow sponge shaped like a rubber duck, a new toothbrush, and a container of powdered cleanser. The toothbrush, he noticed, was the same type he used. When he checked the holder at the sink, his old one was gone. He had a bad idea about what he was going to be using now. Martin ran hot water, filled the bucket, and got busy with sponge and brush. It was over an hour later that the bell tinkled. He hastily put his equipment aside and hurried to the bedroom. Bull told him, "Not time for us to screw again yet. We just wanted you to fan us." He pointed to two decorative folding fans that were hung on the wall. Martin had to take them down and, with one opened in each hand, stand by the bed to gently cool his wife and the capable man who now possessed her. In his maid's outfit, with his bottom stinging, utterly disgraced and inhaling the distinctive smell of salty male ejaculate with every breath, he had to keep both fans moving, not too fast but not too slow, while the contented lovers drifted back to sleep. And he would have to continue that way until they woke again, however long that might be. It was his fate, how he was meant to live now. He was definitely, he at last admitted to himself, made for it. ********* (Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my recent stories and to those who have left comments on some of my earlier ones. I appreciate your feedback.)