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Arrested Development By Cassandra Morgan The world was a little too large for me. It was vast and cold, and there was meanness everywhere. Perhaps that's why I didn't like to venture out into it very often. It was better to stay at home and do my chores. Bad things happened when I left our home. There was so many variables, so many villains, and all of them could be unleashed on a poor sissy at any time. Yet, here I was, in the back of Mistress' car, speeding down the highway, looking out the window at the late afternoon. I was nervous, because out in the world, I was always nervous.There was judgment out here. There was cruelty. There was misunderstanding. The world looked at a sissy with unforgiving eyes. We were weak. We were feminine. We were different. No one seemed to grasp the lifestyle except those of us who were in it. The Camry sped along I-95. I tugged on the skirt of my maid's uniform, and my eyes darted around as we passed other cars. I wondered if the truckers could tell I was a sissy. I bit my lip, and then I stopped. I didn't want to chew off my lipstick again. I closed my eyes and tried to listen to the music from the radio, but I was too skittish to pay attention to the lyrics. "Relax, Penny," Mistress Rebecca said, looking at me in the rear-view mirror. "It's just dinner with our friends. You'll be back home before you know it. The Big Bad Wolf won't eat you ... unless you flirt with him." She laughed at her own joke, but her humor didn't calm me down either. "Yes, ma'am," I said. "I just don't like being away from home." "I know, Penny. But you have to serve tonight. You know that. Jim and Andrea are depending on you." "Why don't they hire their own maid?" "Because they have you, silly," Mistress said. "You agreed to help out, remember? Back ... then." "I remember, Mistress." "Good girl. Now redo your lipstick. And stop biting your lip." "Yes ma'am." "Did you recite your affirmation?" "No, ma'am." "Well, do it." I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath. "I am a sissy," I recited from memory. "I am proud to be a sissy. I am pretty. I am feminine. My clothes are nice. My bra starts comforting me around my shoulders. My panties are cool and slick. My hose gives me confirmation of my status. My corset outlines the life I live. My heels are delicious in their discomfort. The hem of my dress caresses my thighs. My lipstick is the color of my soul. My mascara and my eyeliner remind me of the tears I have shed. My earrings tell me the world does not list. My hair falls as softly as my nature upon this earth. I am a sissy. I am proud to be a sissy." Mistress Rebecca glanced into the mirror and smiled. Every day, she had recite my affirmation. It calmed me. It comforted me. We rode along, neither of us doing much talking. The truth of it is that I didn't talk much anymore. No one knew what I thought of, say, the new Elton John movie. Or the new album by Taylor Swift. Current affairs aren't exactly the maid's forte, are they? We are the ones with unexpressed opinions. Unless we're talking about laundry detergent, no one wants to hear. Hell, I used to talk like an FM radio on scan. About movies. About sports. About cars. About the weather. But that was long ago, back when I thought someone cared what I had to say. Now, I know better. These days, I am a voiceless one. I am the one who curtsies. I am the servant in the back seat, staring at my hands. And then, everything changed. Everything. Suddenly, there were flashing police lights behind our car. I twisted to look. Oh, my God. We were Thelma and Louise, wanted women. Outlaws. * * * Mistress Rebecca she swore gently under her breath. "Damn," she said. "How fast was I going?" "I thought you were under the speed limit, Mistress," I said. "Fuck," she said again. "I don't need to pay a damn ticket." Mistress Rebecca pulled to the shoulder of the highway. She lowed her window and waited as the patrolman approached her. He stopped just short of the door. "Ma'am, can I see your license and registration?" he asked. She fished her license out of her purse, then opened the glove compartment for her registration. "Is there a problem, officer?" "Not if you're Danica Patrick at Daytona, ma'am. You were in a bit of a hurry, weren't you? Speed much?" "I didn't realize it, officer. How fast was I going?" "I clocked you at 85," the officer said. "You know what they say: Drive like hell, and you'll get there." "I'm sorry, officer. I really am." "Have you been drinking?" "No sir. Not a drop." He walked around the car. He was wearing Ray-Bans and one of those wide-brim hats. Standard issue. He peered in the back door and saw me. "Ma'am," he said to me. "Do you have an identification?" My mouth went dry. I had trouble breathing. I knew what he was going to see if he looked at my license. It was all under my old name of "Perry Taft." I had no female id. "Why do you need her identification, sir?" Mistress Rebecca said. "I was the one driving." "Just checking, ma'am. It's routine. Miss, can I have the license, please?" I fished it out and handed it too him. On it was a picture of me shot four years ago, when I was still a man. He looked at it, then he looked at me. He broke into a grin. He shook his head and laughed. "Might I say, sir, you're looking lovely today," he said. "Very feminine, for a sissy boy." I blushed. Inside, I was dying of embarrassment. I locked eyes with Mistress Rebecca, and her eyes were filled with pity for me. Suddenly, the cops didn't seem interested in her. Just in me. "Um, Mr. Taft? Could you please step out of the car?" "But why?" "Please, Mr. Taft. Don't make me ask you again. We need to search for contraband." "Contraband?" "Drugs," he said. I stepped out of the car. I was in my black maid's uniform, the saucy little numbers they sell to fetishists. I had on black heels. My hair hung to my shoulders. I was wearing full makeup. "Well, you're the cutest guy I've stopped all day," the officer said. "Now hang on while my partner runs your identification, Tinker Belle." I stood by the road. the cars whizzing past, blowing my short skirt up even higher. A semi blew its horn at me. I felt vulnerable, exposed standing on the shoulder of the highway. I stared at the squad car. The partner, a short back woman with straight black hair, was holding my license and talking into her radio. Then she, too, got out of the car and approached me. "Who's the maid, Paul? Does the city hire maids to do roadside cleanup these days?" "Say hello to Mr. Taft, Brenda," he said. "It's a guy. A sissy boy." "Nice legs." "Yeah. She's cute. How'd you like to take that home and grab a fistful of nuts?" The female officer grinned. "Turn around for me, girlfriend." I don't know why I spun. Probably because I was used to taking orders. But I turned, and she gave a low wolf whistle. "Are those real?" she said, nodding at my chest. "Yes, ma'am," I said. "It's all me." "Well, aren't you precious?" the female officer said. She turned to Mistress Rebecca. "Does she belong to you?" she said. "Yes, ma'am," Mistress Rebecca said. "She's my husband." "Oh. She doesn't look much like. a husband" She giggled. "Maybe she's your wife." "Whichever, officer. She's my spouse. It's a, um, lifestyle choice." "Damn. I've heard of this shit, but I've never seen it before. Is she wearing panties?" the female officer said." "Yes, ma'am," Mistress Rebecca said. "All the time." "So, you two are going to some sort of a costume party I assume?" the male officer said. "No, sir. Just dinner with friends." "Dressed like that? In women's clothes?" "She's a sissy," Mistress Rebecca said. "They aren't women's clothes. They're her clothes. It's how she dresses." The male cop looked at his partner. They laughed again. This seemed to be fun for them. They'd talk about the sissy and her wife all day. They'd go to a bar and talk about this. In life, what doesn't offend you generally amuses you. The car radio buzzed in their cruiser. The female officer went to the car. She picked up the mike to her radio and began to talk. "So, have you been gay long?" the male officer asked me. "I don't consider myself gay," I said. "Maybe bi. That's not illegal." The female officer exited her cruiser, a worried look on her face. Before I could say a word, she drew her gun. She pointed it at me. "Get against the car, sissy," she said. "Spread them. No sudden movements." "Huh? I ... " The male officer turned me and shoved me toward the car. I had watched enough television to know what to do. I put my hands on the car. He kicked my heels apart. "You want to frisk her?" the male officer asked the female. "I think you should," she said. "Well, the rules say that women suspects are to be frisked by women." "But this isn't a woman. I don't think we have a transgender officer around. I'll flip you for it." "Fuck. I'll do it," he said. He ran his hands down my sides. He patted my back. He reached around and squeezed my breasts. He ran his hand down, and his fingers discovered my cock cage. "Damn. What is this?" he said. "Is that a derringer?" "It's a cock cage. It keeps me ... restrained." "Jesus," the guy said. "Who would let their dick be put in this contraption?" "So your dick will be used to prison?" the female officer said. " "It's in the jailhouse now," the male cop sang. "And it ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when," the woman cop said singing along. "Officer!" I said. "Please stop. This is embarrassing enough." "Were you in Toledo early today?" The female officer said, her eyes narrowing. "What? No." "Can you prove that?" "I was home all day. I cleaned the bathrooms. Mistress was working." "What time did she go in?" "Nine a.m.," Mistress said. "Why?" "The sissy would have had plenty of time to get to Toledo and back, wouldn't she?" "What's this about, officer?" "Ask your sissy. Evidently, a group of men dressed like women knocked over the Ameribank in Toledo today. One of them matches the description of Mr. Taft here." "Because he's wearing a maid's uniform? Do you have idea how many of those are sold to men? Most of them." "Similar height. Same color hair. It all matches the APB we have. We're going to bring her ... him in to question him. If you want, you can meet us a the precinct. I'd advise you to call your attorney on the way. Your sissy is going away for a long time." They handcuffed me. They read me my rights. They shoved me into the back of the cruiser. And they drove me to the pokey. * * "So who is this little glitter girl?" the desk sergeant said. I stood in front of him, my hands handcuffed behind me. "It's Mr. Taft," the male officer said. "He's wanted in the Sissy Holdup today in Toledo." "Shit. He's a guy? Where would he hide his gun?" "In his ass, I suppose," the female cop said. "It could be a small gun." "Or a big ass," the male cop said. The desk sergeant laughed. "You two can pick them, Malloy. Wright." "Yeah, ain't we lucky?" Malloy said. "Did we put in the report that Paul touched his dick?" "I did not," her partner said, shooting her a look. "Don't even kid about that." "Wright, the manual says that a police officer should never touch the suspects dick," the desk sergeant said solemnly. "And if he does, he should not pump it up and down for 15 minutes. Above all else, he should not stick his cock in her asshole and grind. Those are regulation." The reprimand was said in jest, but Wright hung his head. "She offered to blow me if I would set. Her free," he said. "I'm sure she did. What are we going to do with her?" "Put her inside," Malloy said. "Slam the door." "Can't do that," the sergeant said. "Jace Wilson is in there. He'd have his dick inside of her in about five minutes." "So what? It's what a sissy deserves." "Wright, don't be a caveman. This is just a suspect. She hasn't been convicted. At least not yet." "Look, how about we put Wilson into a cage with a couple of other guys, and we empty out his cell for Mr. Taft." "Yeah, that could work. We'll convict her first, and then she can get raped for twenty years." "That's our justice system," Wright said. "It will give her something to look forward to." * * There was a Starbucks a half a block away from the station. Mistress Rebecca told me later that she sat with Officer Malloy and nursed her coffee to get away from the furor. "It wasn't her," Mistress Rebecca said. "We hear that a lot," Malloy said. "It always starts with denial. A lot of women don't have any idea they're married to crooks." "Not Penny. She doesn't even like to go to the grocery store. She's too meek to rob a bank. She wouldn't know which way to hold a gun." "If that's true, the evidence will support her," Malloy said. "But I think you should think about it. You may be married to a criminal. Accept it." "She's not. She's a lot of things, but she's not a bank-robber." "Maybe not. Maybe we'll clear her, and you can take her home later." "I hope it's soon," Mistress said. "Penny doesn't like ... confinement." "Personal experience?" Malloy grinned. "A little," Mistress said. "We played with ropes a couple of times." "So how does a young couple like you two start playing with all this shit?" Malloy said. "You really want to know?" Mistress said, and Malloy nodded. "Well, it started as a giggle. We went to a turnabout party." "A what?" "A turnabout party. The men go as women. The women go as men. It's a laugh, a time to take a lot of photos and be silly. The guys are all over the top as women. The women scratch and spit a lot. Except for Penny. Penny was like a real girl from the start. She looked like a woman. She moved like a woman. We had a great night, frankly. But when we got out of bed the next day, without me saying a word, Penny put her dress back on and made breakfast. She evidently liked it. She was going to wear a dress until I said something. But I liked it, too. I liked being served. I liked making the decisions. So we went to the uniform store, and Penny was born. She's been mine ever since." "Christ. She took to it that easily?" "Like a duck to water. Every day, she became more and more of a sissy. She loved the clothes. She liked the makeup. It was like the girl inside of her was waiting to be unleashed. She would bounce across the room, shaking her ass. It was like a different person was inside of her." "Sounds like you had be the one to grow the dick in your house." "No. But I bought one." "Small world," Malloy said, chuckling. Mistress giggled. "Here's to battery-operated love," she said. The two clinked coffee cups. "So your husband turned into a sissy forever? So guys can laugh at him? So women can mock him? You really like that shit?" "We both do. It's a different life, but we smile a lot. He likes it when I tell him what to do." "Shit. What did your friends say?" "They were fine with it, especially the men. Eventually. Penny was embarrassed as hell when she would meet people, but after someone sees a sissy once, they accept it. As long as she brought them drinks, they were okay with it." "But ... damn. This is forever." "You know what forever is? It's today and tomorrow. My husband likes wearing dresses. I like that he does. So sue us. It's our lives." Malloy stared out the window. "You know, we all have our secrets," she said. Mistress looked at her. "I'm a lesbian," Malloy said. "I don't advertise it. But I like girls." "That's okay," Mistress said. "What's that they say about the boat and floating?" Malloy grinned. "Did they say that on the Titanic?" she asked. "So do you guys, uh, fool around with other people?" "We have in the past," Mistress said. "I love watching Penny blow a guy. She really gets into it, all lips and tongue. She still has her itty-bitty, but except for that, she's half vacuum cleaner." "An itty-bitty?" "You know." Mistress held her finger and thumb a couple of inches apart. "Aaaah," Malloy said. "Her winkie. Hence the cage." "Yeah," Mistress said. "She really took to that after a while. She really is submissive. Cleaning. Cooking. All that stereotypical shit. I haven't done a lick of housework since she first put on panties." "I gotta get me one of those sissies," Malloy said. "I wonder if Wright would look good in a skirt." "Never can tell," Mistress said. "It's amazing how many men want to wear panties every day." "Amazing how many women want to get out of them." Mistress smiled. "Amen to that." * * * I sat in a small cell as the hour grew late, sniffling over my fate. Damn, I hated being discovered as a sissy. It was always the same old feeling of exposure. Guys still looked at you with a noose in their eyes and a tree limb in their pants. The adjoining cells were crowded, with three or four inmates each. Only my cell was empty (except for me). The officers knew what would happen if I was in a cell with the other inmates. I would be raped until dawn. Then I would be raped some more. "Hey, precious," an inmate in the next cell said softly. "If I stick it through the bars, will you suck it?" I twisted and faced the wall. "Please?" I turned away from him, the shame of the moment flooding over me. "Then can you at least show me your tits? You're proud of them, aren't you. Just give me a little peek." "Go away," I whimpered. "Want to look at it?" the man said, lowering his trousers. He had a lot to be proud of. A young man with curly care turned to me. "Don't mind him," he said gently. "He's an idiot." I looked at the man. He was young, a goofy looking kid who should have been in a college class. "Thank you," I whispered. "What are you doing in here?" "They said I was selling meth," he said. "But they entrapped me. I'm going to walk. What did you do?" "I'm innocent," I said. "Yeah. You and O.J. What are. you charged with?" "Bank robbery." "Shit. Did you carry a gun?" "It wasn't me, I tell you. I would never steal." "Of course you wouldn't. Hell, you're Bonnie Parker. You're a real crook." "Fine. I robbed the fucking bank. I sucked off the security guard. Now are you happy?" "He might not be, but I am. That's a confession, pantyboy." I looked to my right, and Officer Wright was standing in the doorway. The other prisoners began to hoot and carry on. "Stop it, you cavemen," Wright slammed his nightclub into the bars to back the inmates away." "Officer, I wasn't confessing. I was trying to shut this guy up." Wright opened my cell. He sat on the bed as the inmates began to hoot. "Lovebirds!" one prisoner said. "Sweethearts!" "Penny, what you tell another inmate is legally admissible," he said. "Your lawyer can try to get it suppressed, but I think you're going down. Uh, so to speak. "You tricked me," I said. "Maybe," he said. "Look, it can't be easy for a sissy in the slammer. We'll find out more tomorrow. If you really weren't there, we'll find that out, too." "Th...thank you," I said. "It's okay. I was just thinking you must be scared and alone." "A little," I said. "You know, you?re very pretty,? he said, putting his hand on mine. ?Don?t,? I said. ?I belong to my Mistress.? He smiled. ?She?s a nice woman. At least, Brenda thinks so.? ?What do you mean?? He shrugged. ?I don?t mean anything. But while you?re in stir, at least someone will be looking after your wife. If you want, I could look after you.? ?I...I?m okay,? I said. He sighed. He got up and adjusted his package. He walked out of the cell. He closed the door loudly. ?Have a good time with your new buddies,? he said. ?Why don?t you have a penis contest? Biggest cock gets time off for hard time.? Sleep didn?t come until I lost a lot more tears. * * The next morning, I woke up early. I sat and peed, then I looked at the nearby cells. The men were most asleep. One young man had his pants around his ankles and his cellmate?s hand on his ass. Out of sheer boredom, I started to clean my cell. I made the bed. I washed out the toilet and the sink. I wiped down the bars. Evidently, it had been years since anyone had cleaned up the joint. ?That?s a good prisoner,? It was Thomas, the desk sergeant. ?Why don?t you clean all the cells?? ?Well, they?re occupied,? I said. ?What if we move the prisoners into the yard? Then you can clean and make the beds.? And so he did. It was too early for morning exercise, but he hustled the dunks and thugs outside. And cell by cell, I began to make things look better. Thomas brought me clean sheets, so I could make the beds. I began to feel more normal, more at ease, having something to do. Mistress Rebecca came by at 2:00 pm, when visiting hours started. I was in my cell, crying, when Sergeant Thomas brought her in. ?Hey, baby,? Mistress said. ?Hi, Mistress. Can we go home now?? ?I?m afraid not, precious,? she said. ?Sgt. Thomas tells me that you confessed. You admitted it! You really robbed that damn bank, like a common fucking thief.? ?No, Mistress,? I sputtered. Another inmate was giving me grief and I said I did to shut him up.? ?Oh, my God, Penny. I can?t believe you did it.? ?Mistress! I didn?t. I would never.? ?I wonder if they?ll send you a men?s prison or a women?s,? Mistress said. ?You?d be very popular in jail.? ?Ma?am, please don?t talk like that. I didn?t rob anyone.? ?Shit. We?ve got money, Penny. What? You wanted money for your sex change? Is that it?? ?Mistress, I don?t want a sex change. You know that.? ?I don?t know anything anymore. I?m married to a fucking criminal who is going to prison. Shit. I hope you don?t get AIDS from all the butt- fucking.? ?Mistress. No.? ?I can?t ask you to be a virgin while you?re serving time,? she said. ?Fuck. It?s going to be like that TV show: Orange is the New Black Unless it?s Pink. Fags in prison have it rough?? ?That?s not funny.? She winkled her nose. ?It kind of is. Tell me, girl. Did you want to get caught? Because of all the fucking?? I looked at her, unable to talk. How could she not believe me? That hurt worst of all. Then she broke into a grin. It seemed out of place considering the river of shit in which I was swimming. ?Penny,? she said, still smiling. ?They know it wasn?t you.? ?They...they do?? ?They?ve studied the tapes from the bank. There was one of the robbers who kind of looked like you, but the facial recognition didn?t quite match. They arrested one of the robbers for trying to spend some of the money, and he ratted out his buddies. The whole lot of them are in jail.? ?So I?m free?? ?As a bird. Unless you want to spend a little time with the meth head and his death dick.? ?No, ma?am. I want to go home.? Rebecca turned to Sgt. Thomas. ?Thank you for taking care of my pet,? she said. ?Oh, we liked her,? Thomas said. ?She cleaned the joint up. I?d like to keep her. Does she have any days she could clean a little for us?? ?Well, I don?t know. Maybe Tuesday and Friday. But I?m at work during the day.? ?Officer Wright will be glad to pick her up and take her home on those days. We can pay her a hundred bucks a day. We?ll even throw in whichever drug-dealer she wants to blow.? Mistress giggled. ?Let her loose, and she has my permission to screw anyone in this station house,? she said. ?Even cops?? Thomas said. ?Especially cops, as long as you can make my speeding ticket disappear.? Thomas grinned. ?Done.? Mistress reached out and shook his hand. ?Is Brenda in yet?? ?Malloy?? ?Yes.? ?No, she?s sleeping it off. Can I give her a message?? ?No, that?s okay,? Mistress started to leave. Then she turned. ?On second thought, tell her to call me.? Thomas raised his eyebrows. Mistress giggled and waved farewell. * * * The charges were officially dropped on Tuesday. There were no apologies, no remorse. With cops, there never is. And so I was free. When Sgt. Thomas opened the cell door, it felt much the way having my own cage unlocked felt. The air smelled better. The world seemed prettier. Maybe that?s what jail was; it was a giant chastity belt for bad sissies. Before I left, Sgt. Thomas handed me an employment application. I was going to be the station maid, it turned out. I was going to bust my ass so men who beat up their wives would have a clean place to shit. Even with that, the job turned out to be fun. I had never been much for leaving home, but the officers clowned around with me as I bounced through the policemen?s offices. Officer Wright would pick me up at home in the mornings, and I would ride with him to the station house. Then I would clean ? and do my daily affirmation ? and he would take me home. One day, when it was raining, he drove into our driveway and parked. We sat there and watched the drops fall. ?Hard to believe I had my gun pointed at you,? he said. ?Your gun?? ?My pistol, silly. The day we stopped you two.? ?Well, you?re sweet to me now.? ?You deserve it. You were falsely accused. You know, you aren?t such an oddity, after all.? ?I?m who I am. I?m okay with it.? ?Well, I am, too.? ?It wasn?t easy, Paul. I mean, when I first turned, I was so into the sensations. The clothes. The colors. The adventure of it. I fell in deep right from the start.? ?I can?t imagine.? ?I?m sure that to Mistress, it seemed like it was a quick change. But standing there in a maid?s dress while my mother looked at me was hard. I had a golf buddy, Chet, who was the first guy to see me en femme, and that was hard.? ?I bet he was hard, too.? ?Yeah,? I said. ?He was. Mistress was like a director of a play when Chet came over. She kept positioning us until, well, we having sex. That was weird. It was erotic, but it felt as if I was surrendering my manhood. Can you imagine having a dick in your mouth?? ?Well, I?ve thought about yours.? ?Paul? You?d put my dick in your mouth?? He shrugged. ?It would be making my partner happy. I?d try it. Sex is just warmth, baby. I?d try it.? It was pure impulse, a matter of reacting without thinking. But there, as the rain fell, I leaned over and kissed Paul on the cheek. I wiped the lipstick off of his jaw. ?Don?t start anything you won?t finish,? he said. ?Mistress said I could finish,? I said, looking into his eyes. And then his lips were against mine, pushing and prodding, his tongue like a serpent in my mouth. His fingers were in my hair, twisting and pulling in his passion. My hand found its way to his crotch. I moaned when I felt his election, ?Damn, that?s a big nightstick,? I whispered. ?It?s not a nightstick,? he said. ?I know,? I said. I rubbed him as we kissed. Our hands roamed over each other.We were like reckless teen-agers, touching and squeezing and fondling. ?Do you want to come upstairs?? I asked. ?I can?t. I?m on duty. Can I take a rain-check?? ?Well, it is raining.? ?Baby, I?m only saying no because I have to. I want you. I?ve never met a sissy before, but nothing seems wrong with it to me.? ?Go to work,? I said. ?Arrest Charles Manson again. Bring in Ted Bundy. Make sure Jeffrey Dahmer is behind bars.? ?Shit. I was just hoping to stop a random litterer.? ?Well, that works, too. We can?t have litter in our lives.? He smiled and kissed me again. ?Penny? I like Rebecca. Why don?t you two have a conversation. Tell her what we?re thinking. I don?t want to slip around on anyone.? ?Geez, you?re a good cop.? ?I was a Boy Scout, too.? ?Yeah? How are your knots?? ?Tight. I tie them really tight.? ?Oooh, what a sweet-talker. Now go.? And he did. * * * Some things you know. Some you find out after the fact. And some you have no idea of whatsoever. Brenda Malloy sat with Mistress at Starbucks for the second day in a row. They were a fascinating couple, the white lady and the black cop, whispering across the table. There is nothing wrong with two women having a coffee, but there was an air of intimacy to the two. ?Were you always gay?? my Mistress asked her. ?When God created Eve, I was there waiting,? Malloy giggled. ?Girls were just prettier than boys. They smelled better. They dressed nicer. I mean, have you seen guys with their pants down to their knees so you can see their boxers? What is that shit?? ?Well, Penny does that so you can see her panties.? Malloy laughed. ?You and that fairy husband of yours.? ?She?s sweet,? Rebecca said. ?Don?t be mean.? ?I?ll bet,? Malloy said. ?She?s girlier than any woman I?ve been with.? ?You?re pretty girly,? Rebecca said. ?I mean, for a cop. A lesbian cop.? ?You ever been with a woman?? ?No. I mean, Penny is more girl than boy these days. When I was in college, I kissed a girl once, but it didn't go anywhere. We were both drunk.? ?Do you regret not sleeping with her?? ?Not her in particular. But I have the same curiosity as most people.? ?So you want to taste the taco?? ?Stop it! My lord, you?re crude.? ?Comes from working with all of these hard-ass guys,? Malloy said. ?I need someone soft to come home to.? ?Brenda, are you flirting with me?? ?God, yes. You can?t tell? I want to jump across this table and ravage you right now.? ?Then why don?t you, officer?? Brenda took my wife?s hand in hers. Rebecca noticed that the colors of their skin were gorgeous in their contrast as Brenda raked her nails against Mistress? palm. ?The time isn?t right,? Malloy said. ?Get a new fucking watch,? Rebecca said. And Malloy, in front of the entire coffee shop, leaned over and kissed Rebecca gently on the lips Then she did it again. She licked her bottom lip as the customers gaped. ?I get off at 5,? Malloy said ?I can get you off again by 5:15,? Rebecca said. ?What about Penny?? ?I?m sure she can mop something,? Rebecca said. ?It?s what she does. Now kiss me again.? * * I was folding laundry that afternoon when Mistress came home. It was early, only about 4 o?clock, when she came through the door singing. I recognized the song. Katy Perry was singing about kissing a girl. I poured Mistress her usual Scotch and brought it to her. ?How was your day, ma?am?? I asked. ?Well, I didn?t rob any banks,? she said. ?How about you?? ?Funny,? I said. ?Yes. I?m a riot,? she said. ?Like the one on Cell Block D.? I shook my head and went back to my chores. I was wearing a soft yellow maid?s dress with matching heels. I felt as if I was home again. ?Penny? Can we talk?? ?Oh, yes ma?am. I?d like to talk.? Mistress raised her eyebrows. She took a sip of her Scotch. ?Penny, I think I?m going to have an affair.? ?You, too Mistress? ?What do you mean ?me, too??? ?I...um..well, you see, Paul and I...Detective Wright ... well...? ?Are you fucking Detective Wright?? ?Oh, no, Mistress. I mean, I want to. But I wanted to talk to you first.? She grinned. ?So tell me what you want to do to him?? ?Um, you know. I want to...suck his cock. I want to have him fuck me. I want him to kiss my titties.? She giggled. ?Slut! You want to taste his sperm, don?t you? You want to lick his nuts. You want to feel that hairy ass as you suck him off.? I smiled. ?I want to do it twice. Maybe three times.? ?Well, he is kind of cute,? Mistress said. I nodded. Then her words struck me. ?Ma?am. You said you were going to have an affair. With Sgt. Thomas? I think he likes you.? ?Noooooo,? she said, dragging out the word. ?I want to have an affair with Officer Malloy.? My eyes widened. ?She?s a girl!? I said. ?Damn fine girl, too. She kisses like angels? breath. ? ?You?ve kissed her?? ?Right in the middle of Starbucks. They?re naming a drink after us. The Lesbian Swirl.? ?I didn?t think you were into girls,? I said quietIy. ?I didn?t know that I was,? Mistress said. ?But she?s so damn pretty I want to follow her home.? ?Don?t,? I said. ?Don?t leave me.? ?Oh, Penny. I could never leave you. Why, you?re my maid!? I grinned. ?Among other things,? I said. ?Look, we?re forever. But we found something we like in the same damn squad car. What?s fair for you is fair for me. Deal?? I nodded my head. Damn, I was glad that bank got robbed. * * That night, Mistress blindfolded me. She attached my collar, and she led me to our bedroom. She had me kneel at the foot of our bed. Then I heard one click. Then another. Then she pulled my blindfold off. I blinked into the light. I was handcuffed to the foot of the bed. I could barely move. I knelt there, wearing my ivory nightgown, the one that showed off my cleavage (the best boobies that pills can make). I looked up at Mistress with a question in my eyes. ?We?re going to play the Dating Game, Penny,? Mistress said. ?Contestant No. 1, would you please enter?? And Brenda walked from the bathroom into the room. She stood there, imperiously. Slowly, she started to unbutton the blue shirt of her uniform until she stood there in a white bra. She wrinkled out of her slacks. She was wearing white panties, too. She was stunning. ?Hello, Sissy,? she said. My mouth was dry. The metal of the handcuffs rubbed against my wrists. ?And now for Contestant No. 2. Please come on down.? And, from the hallway, Paul entered. He, too, was in his dress blues, his badge shining in the night. Yes, he was wearing his gun. He kicked off his shoes. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly. He dropped his pants, and there it was. His glorious cock, standing at attention. I learned forward and tried to kiss it, but he stepped backward. ?Not yet, girlfriend,? he said. ?You have to beg for it first.? My wife lay down in the middle of the bed. Paul climbed in on her left, and Brenda on his right. Brenda?s hand touched her stomach, then traced higher until it was toying with her breasts. Paul kissed her belly- button, then went down to her vagina. I knelt there in handcuffs, watching this beautiful threesome in front of me. I longed to take part ? any part ? as they kissed and caressed each other. It was the most amazing display of cuckoldry I could imagine. I watched my wife squirm as the police officers touched her. This, I suppose, was what getting frisked was all about. Paul entered Rebecca, his penis slick as he pumped it into her, their faces twisted in pleasure. At the same time, Brenda crouched over her. She lowered her pussy toward Rebecca?s lips, but then she leaned forward so it was her ass that engulfed Mistress? mouth. Paul twitched, then came deeply. This was the beauty of a thousand sunsets, of a million views of the Alps, of the morning glory of the Outback. This was the most stunning thing I had ever seen. I couldn?t touch myself because of the handcuffs. I just knelt there, bouncing, watching, lusting. A sissy has never been harder. A sissy has never been more aroused. They made love for almost an hour as I watched, whimpering at the vision in front of me. They kept switching positions, until Paul was in Brenda and Rebecca was in Paul and Brenda was in Rebecca. They were arms and legs and lips and men and women and colors and fluids. Finally, Paul reached over. He took a key off the nightstand and unlocked my cuffs. ?Now you clean us, maid,? he said. And he lay back. I didn?t know where to go first. I clambered up the bed, and I pushed my face into Mistress Rebecca. Paul?s cum was there. I could taste it. I tongued her like a thirsty man in the desert. As I worked, I felt Brenda?s finger in my ass. Then I twisted, and a penis was in my face. Paul. I engulfed it all at once. There was no nibbling, no toying. I wanted to suck his dick. Damn the juices that were on it. I licked and I bobbed and I sucked the head. I felt Rebecca?s hands on my legs, stroking my pantyhose as I sucked. God, I loved the way he grew, and the way he took over. I loved the taste of his sperm as it gushed into my mouth, Paul?s second orgasm. And then it was Brenda?s turn. I looked at her. She spread her gorgeous brown legs. ?Go ahead, Sissy,? she said. ?You?re close enough to a girl to make me happy. Give me that tongue.? And I did. My tongue was a mop, and I was cleaning the floor. It was a toilet brush, and I was cleaning the bowl. It was a dildo, and I was making her happy. I was Mistress Rebecca?s maid, and I was Mistress Brenda?s, and I was Master Paul?s. And I was complete. We got married the next summer, all of us. We had an alternative preacher, and we had a ceremony, and we had guests. Mistress Rebecca and I wore wedding gowns. Mistress Brenda and Master Paul wore their police uniforms. We were a quartet now, a foursome dedicated to making each other happy. No, it wasn?t quite legal. But wasn?t that the point? (c) 2019 by Cassandra Morgan