House Sitter (Part 2) free porn video

HOUSE SITTER (Part 2) By Lisa Lovelace My petticoats rustled under my maid's uniform as I knelt before my new master and unzipped his trousers. "Well?" said Dirk. "Take it out." I groped in his pants and awkwardly pulled out his male equipment. "Well?" Dirk said. "C'mon, Lisa. Lick it. Kiss it. Suck it." I shot a glance at his girlfriend, Tina - Ms. Underbust to me. She nodded. My name was Lisa now, but I used to be a boy named Logan. Ms. Underbust hired me as a house sitter while she was out of town, and found out afterwards that I'd been wearing her clothing. She made me dress up for her, said I was too pretty to be a boy, renamed me and blackmailed me into becoming her maid. I'd been serving her for three weeks now. Oh, I could easily walk out the door and be free - but for how long? I had no money or identification, and I'd be wearing a maid's uniform, unless I stole one of Ms. Underbust's dresses. I wondered how far I'd get before getting picked up - either by the cops, or by a male predator prowling the streets in search of lost souls like me. I could always return to my mom's house in Edina. It was only a few miles outside of Minneapolis - I could walk there, though it'd be an agonizing trek in my heels. But Mom didn't want me around now that I'd finished high school, and she didn't know I liked girls' clothes... so I could just guess how she would react if Ms. Underbust dropped me off at home in one of my maid's uniforms. It would not be good. Mom would probably tell me to get right back in that car and beg Ms. Underbust to keep me. So I didn't even try to escape from Ms. Underbust's house. I wasn't a man. I was a coward, a wimp, a sissy. Which is why I was now on my knees in front of Dirk, or Mr. Steele, as I'd been told to call him. He clearly expected me to give him a blowjob. I'd never received one, and for sure had never given one before. Ms. Underbust's sardonic smile told me she was amused by my situation. I couldn't expect her to rescue me. I grasped the base of his cock, which was several inches longer than mine, and tentatively licked the tip. It was warm. "Kiss it, Lisa," Ms. Underbust said. I did, and saw that I'd left a lipstick print on the head of his tool. My tiny sissy revenge on the big strong man. "Suck it, girl," Mr. Steele said. I did. I sucked it and licked it and kissed it and rubbed my hand up and down its saliva-coated length, and in a few minutes I was rewarded, if that's the right word, with a load of his ejaculate in my mouth. I swallowed the gooey mess, licked him clean and tucked him back into his tighty whities. I was painfully erect myself, but the bulge was hidden in my panties and petticoats. "Thank you, Lisa," Ms. Underbust said. I knew she didn't like giving Dirk blowjobs. That was my job now. "Well done." Mr. Steele patted me on the head, as if I were his little pet. "Get me another beer, Lisa," he said. ~ ~ ~ Later, I pulled Ms. Underbust aside and told her I wanted to quit my job. "Don't be ridiculous," she said. "It's hardly unusual for a girl to give a guy a blowjob. I was surprised you hadn't before." "I'm not a girl, ma'am!" She sighed. "Must we go through this again, Lisa? Look at yourself. Absolutely everything about you screams girl. You're a sissy, a girl for all practical purposes. Even if you were a boy, it's not unusual for one boy to give another boy a blowjob." "But I'm not gay, ma'am!" "It's not gay for a sissy to give a boy a blowjob. Sissies aren't gay or straight. They're sissies." Argh! I wasn't getting anywhere with her. I now understood what she meant when she'd told me my job would include giving Mr. Steele "personal services" that she didn't want to give him. I could only hope he wouldn't want this particular service very often. I lived in fear that Mr. Steele would find out I wasn't the teenage girl I appeared to be. Ms. Underbust had told me he didn't like being deceived, and my life now was one long deception. I asked her what I could do, and she ordered me a gaff, something like a thong panty that helped minimize male parts. She also advised me to avoid being alone with him and to threaten to tell her if he tried to go beyond the occasional blowjob. "You can't handle him, but I can," she said. I wasn't terribly reassured. I started wearing my gaff under my panties and an extra petticoat under my uniform, so as to conceal my secret under more rustling layers of fabric. My attempt to dress more securely went out the window one day when, as I was serving mojitos to my master and mistress on their back deck, Mr. Steele gave me a large wrapped package with a note: "For Maid Lisa, from her Master." "Open it," he said. I unfolded white tissue paper to reveal a black satin dress trimmed in white lace. Oh, God. It was a stereotypical French maid's costume. It looked well-made, not Halloween junk. Its skirt was extremely full and extremely short. I held it up against me and wondered if it would even cover my panties. Wearing it would be an exercise in humiliation. "Thank you, Mr. Steele," I said. Inside the box I also found a short, rustling taffeta petticoat half an inch longer than the skirt, a lace-trimmed satin apron that was pretty if not practical, and a pair of black satin panties with rows of ruffled white lace sewn onto the seat. My heart sank as I inspected the costume. It was fetish wear. I wondered how often my master would expect me to wear this instead of my regular uniform, whose skirts brushed the tops of my calves. "Put it on," he said. Oh God. I would look indecent. I picked up the costume pieces and started to leave the room. "No," Mr. Steele said. "Change here." I wanted to disobey him, but knew too well what would happen if I did. My bottom was still sore from my last spanking. I untied my apron, took off my regular dress and put on the French maid's dress. It weighed half of what my uniform dress did. I took off my regular petticoats, which preserved my modesty, and put on the new one, which did not - it just made my skirt stick out farther and cover less of my legs. I reached under the skirt and slid down my old panties, leaving the gaff in place, and pulled on the new panties. I used both hands to smooth the lace ruffles covering my bottom. I tugged on the new dress to try it make it longer, but it didn't help. It was scandalously short. If I bent over even slightly, anyone could see my panties. The white lace was impossible to miss. Ms. Underbust tied the delicate apron tightly around my waist, stood back and looked me over. "What do you think, Tina?" Mr. Steele asked. My mistress reached over and pulled off my mob cap. "Lose the cap," she said. "All she needs is a frilly hairband that she can make herself. It'll teach her how to sew." He nodded and turned to me. "What do you think, Lisa?" "Isn't it awfully short, Mr. Steele?" I said, swiveling my hips to make the skirt swish around me. "Master," he replied, looming over me. I hated having to call him that. "It's awfully short, master." "Makes it easier for you to bend over," he said with a smirk. "Oh, by the way. Anyone who sees the white lace on your panties is allowed to give you a little love tap. Not enough to hurt, just a little reminder that the lace on your butt is the sign of a slut. Put your hands on your knees." I bent to obey, knowing he could see the lace on my panties. He gave me a sharp little spank. "Ooh!" I cried, though it didn't really hurt. In a weird way, I kind of liked it. I wanted him to do it again. I straightened up and bent over again, and he swatted me again. I started to get hard in my panties. Oh my God, what was wrong with me? "See?" he said. "The lace on your butt is the sign of a slut." I straightened up, tried and failed again to pull my dress down, and turned to Ms. Underbust. "Mistress, what do you think? Is this dress too short? It doesn't hide my panties. I don't want people to think I'm a slut." She fluffed the hems of my dress and petticoat. "It is quite short," she said, "but not too short for a maid such as yourself. You need to learn how to move gracefully in a short skirt without exposing your most intimate underthings to men and giving them naughty ideas." "But, ma'am, won't I be exposing the lace on my panties every time I curtsy?" "Oh, I doubt it. Your skirt and petticoat are full enough that a curtsy shouldn't expose the seat of your panties. In any case, you didn't seem to mind getting those love taps from Dirk." That night, as I bent over the dishwasher to put in a plate, Mr. Steele came up behind me. "The lace on your butt is the sign of a slut," he said, and gave my bottom a swat. Sorry, a love tap. I stood up straight and froze. "So now what am I supposed to do, master? If I fill the dishwasher, I'll get a spank for every dish I put in it, and I'll never get anything done, and you'll waste all your time watching and spanking me." "Good point, Lisa," he said. "Tell you what, I'll spank you only once per task, not every time you expose your bottom during the task. That'll save me time and spare you a lot of spanks." "Thank you, master." I didn't feel very thankful, since the whole stupid "Lace on your butt" rule was his idea. He didn't limit himself to spanking. A few days later, as I climbed the stairs to change the linens in the master bedroom. Mr. Steele came up the stairs behind me, taking them two at a time, obviously in a hurry. I flattened myself against the wall, as Ms. Underbust had trained me to do when we met on the stairs. As he passed, Mr. Steele reached under my French maid's dress and petticoat and gave a hearty squeeze to both sides of my bottom. I started and gave a little shriek of surprise, but didn't dare to move or resist him. He sped up the stairs. "Sorry, Lisa, couldn't resist," he said over his shoulder before disappearing down the hallway. I stood unmoving on the stairs, angry at him and ashamed of myself. I was helpless against him, a helpless little sissy. I had good reason not to want his hands anywhere near my crotch, but after this incident, I knew it was inevitable that he'd grab me down there sooner or later, and would find something he didn't expect, and then - what? He'd probably beat the shit out of me. I told Ms. Underbust about the incident. She was more sympathetic than I expected and said she knew what I needed, though she wouldn't say what. She said she would order it immediately, but it might take a couple of weeks to arrive. For the next week, Mr. Steele limited my discipline to occasional swats when the lace on my panties showed, which was a relief, but he had unwelcome news for me. The Minnesota football team - the Vikings, he said - were playing their first game of the season on Sunday, and he'd invited three of his friends over to watch it. "And I want you to serve us drinks and snacks, Lisa," Mr. Steele said. "In your French maid's uniform. You must curtsy to them and call them sir. And remember, the lace on your butt is the sign of a slut. Make sure they see it, and I'll tell them the rule." I curtsied. "Yes, master." I was doomed. This had the potential of being really bad. Me in the same room as four males who would spend the afternoon drinking beer and feeling macho. I hoped Ms. Underbust would stay to act as a brake on the males' behavior, but as far as I knew, she didn't give a damn about football, and I feared I'd be left on my own to protect my virtue... or at least protect my crotch against close inspection. On Friday before the game, a large package arrived for Ms. Underbust. She opened it in her room and called me in. "Yes, ma'am?" Curtsy. "I have a present for you. It won't delight you, but it will protect you." "Thank you, ma'am." I looked in the box and saw a device made of stainless steel and various synthetics. I picked it up and turned it over in my hands until I figured out what it was: a female chastity belt. I gave my mistress a perplexed look. "I can't wear this, ma'am. It's made for a female body." "Maybe you're womanly enough to wear it," she said. "Try it on." I took off my clothes, and she helped me into the belt, telling me the device had been adjusted to fit a male form. The shield protecting the wearer's pussy was cunningly made so that a man's penis - a small penis, like mine - could be hidden underneath, if the man's testes were tucked back into his body. I could wear this belt instead of a gaff and look like a woman under my clothes, even if I lost my panties. I wondered what Mr. Steele would do to me if he discovered the chastity belt. Well, if it successfully hid my boy bits, at least he wouldn't tear me apart for being a boy instead of a girl. Ironically, I was wearing the chastity belt to protect a pussy that I didn't have. "It fits you perfectly," Ms. Underbust said. "Your body is getting girlier." "Yes, ma'am," I said, disliking the thought of having to wear the thing. It shamed me that I could fit into a female chastity belt. The thought made me stiff, to my further shame, and I discovered that the belt had room for my hidden penis to expand. I could probably even ejaculate in it, though it'd make a mess. "I'm not going to tell Dirk you're locked up. Maybe he'll find it, maybe he won't. If he does, blame it on me," she said. "I want you to wear it whenever Dirk is here, because I don't trust him to leave you alone. It's your fault, Lisa! You're just too tempting. That's why I'm not giving him a key. You can tell him that. If he hurts or threatens you in any way, tell me and I will deal with him." I blushed. "Yes, ma'am." Curtsy. Sunday came too soon. The game would start at noon. Like the big beefy players on the field, I started preparing for the game hours in advance, though in different ways. I was pretty sure they didn't take bubble baths to start their day. I doubt they moisturized their skin or patted it with perfumed powder or anointed it with scent. I doubt they shaved their legs and underarms, or depilated the rest of their body, or waited for three coats of nail polish to dry. I'm pretty sure they didn't spend as much time on their hair as I did, even though some of them had more than I do, and I know they didn't spend as much time on their makeup. That blotchy black cheekshadow the NFL uses is just not attractive. Oh, and I'm fairly certain they didn't wear lacy lingerie under their uniforms, which were definitely not French maid uniforms with extremely short skirts and four-inch black patent heels. I made a big pot of chili and put out chips, dips and a bucket of beers on ice for the boys, and retreated from the den and its big-screen TV to the relative safety of the kitchen. My mistress came down the stairs in a classic twin set over cashmere trousers. A lovely outfit, and I bet it'd feel "I'll be out for a few hours," she said cheerily. She twinkled her fingers at me and abandoned me to my fate. Mr. Steele - oh, hell, I'm going to call him Dirk, because he behaved like a jerk. His buds showed up shortly before game time, already well lubricated and ready to get more so. Dirk summoned me from the kitchen and introduced me to Wayne, Tyrone and Adam. I flounced up to each, bouncing my pigtails, and curtsied to him in turn. I needed above all to make Dirk and his friends believe I was a girl. I turned my hard- learned femininity up to eleven. This was essential to avoid exposure - but it had the predictable effect of making the boys more interested in their girly servant. I swished back and forth between the kitchen and the den, making sure they never ran low on beer or snacks, while spending as little time in their sight as possible, knowing that alcohol increased their chances of becoming frisky. At halftime, the boys informed me that the Vikings, who were in purple, were tied with the team in white, whoever they were, and the game was boring. Dirk took another long swig of beer. "Let's see if we can spice things up," he said. "Lisa, come here." I stood before him, heels touching, hands behind my back, eyes humbly lowered, hoping against hope he wasn't about to subject me to anything dreadful. "You're my maid, right?" he asked. His friends watched me instead of the TV, where talking heads were babbling statistics. "Yes, master," I said, knowing that's what he wanted me to say, and curtsied, knowing that's what he wanted me to do. "And you have to obey my orders, don't you?" "Yes, master," I said, dreading whatever would come next. "Well then, Lisa, I want you to give all my friends orgasms," he said. "Before the end of the game." I was stunned. He wanted me to get all these strangers' rocks off? How? And how was I to avoid exposure, with four men staring at me? I hoped my chastity belt would protect me, and reminded myself that Mr. Steele didn't know I was wearing it. I dropped to my knees, overcome by contradictory feelings of submission, fear and desire. "How, master?" I said. "You can blow them, or you can give them hand jobs, or you can let them fuck you," Dirk said. His friends voiced enthusiastic support for this plan. "It might be difficult to fuck me, master," I said, trying to look coy rather than defiant. "Why not, Lisa?" he demanded. "You have to find out, master," I said, curling a lock of my hair around my finger. He laughed. "Come here, Lisa," he said. I shuffled toward him on my knees. He patted his thighs. "Sit here." I'd already fought the battle of his lap and lost, so I dutifully scooped my skirts under me, sat and displayed myself as prettily as I could. I didn't know what Dirk was about to do, but I knew I needed to react the way a girl would. "Take off your panties, Lisa," Dirk commanded. If I did that, I would expose my female chastity belt. The moment of truth was at hand. "Yes, master." I clumsily pulled down my panties while sitting on his lap. The boys hooted and cheered. Dirk shoved his hand under my tragically short maid's uniform and groped at my crotch. "What the hell?" he said. With both hands, he lifted my skirt and petticoat and examined what he'd felt underneath. "It's a fucking chastity belt!" His friends guffawed. "Locked out!" Wayne said. "Denied!" Tyrone said. "Off limits!" Adam said. "Fuck! Tina must've done this!" Dirk said. "Well, guys, the offer is still good! I can personally testify that Lisa here can suck the brass off a doorknob, so get in line! She can do Wayne and Tyrone in the third quarter, and Adam in the fourth." "Not you?" Adam said. "I'll have her all to myself tonight," Dirk said. "Well, Lisa? Your master has given you orders." I did it. I knelt in front of the sofa and gave blowjobs to his friends. Master reminded me to look up into their eyes as I worked their cocks. They made me go slowly at first, but near the end, they grabbed my pigtails and face-fucked me until they came. I tried to turn off my brain, but could not help feeling waves of humiliation and submissiveness wash over me as I became a cocksucking sissy. I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, washed my hands and fixed my pigtail ribbons, and when I thought I could face the men again, I started tidying up. My scalp hurt. The game ended. Moments later, Ms. Underbust returned and breezed into the den. "How'd it go, boys?" she asked. I doubted she was asking about the game. "Did our maid provide proper service?" "Yes, she did, ma'am," Wayne said. "Even in her chastity belt." "Ah, you found it, did you?" she said. They laughed. "Dirk was sure surprised," Tyrone said. "She did a great job anyway," Adam said. "Well, I'm glad to hear she provided satisfaction," she said. "Did your team win? Aww, that's too bad." Dirk's buds all left shortly afterwards. I curtsied to each and gave him a kiss. They all fondled my boobs or butt. It was embarrassing, but I wanted the guys to like me, so that they would treat me nicely the next time they came to watch. When the last of the men left, Dirk turned to Tina. "What the fuck? A chastity belt? I had no idea! You embarrassed me in front of my friends!" "But it kept you and your friends from fucking Lisa, didn't it?" "Why does she matter so much to you? She's just the fucking maid!" "But she's not your maid for fucking, Dirk! You fuck me, you don't fuck her. That's why she's wearing that thing." "You don't trust me?" Mr. Steele said. "I do when you think with your brain," Ms. Underbust said. "I don't when you think with Mr. Big here." She ran her hand over the bulge in his trousers. Mr. Steele smiled. "Mr. Big is thinking as hard as he can right now." Ms. Underbust giggled. "Well, I'm right here in case he has any bright ideas." She started playing with him on the sofa. He told her to take it out. She refused. Said they had a maid to do that for him now. Told him she wanted him in bed instead. He followed her upstairs, practically drooling. Men were so pathetic. I cleaned up the den and kitchen while hearing them banging away in the master bedroom. I wished it was me, not Dirk, up there with Ms. Underbust. I wished I could have sex. I wished I didn't need to wear a female chastity belt to disguise myself as a woman. It was all because of Dirk. Dirk the Jerk. Dirk who was now my master, Dirk who could order me to do almost anything. Why did I put up with this? Because I was terrified by the thought of leaving with no money, no ID, nowhere to go, wearing a maid's uniform, locked in a woman's chastity belt. ~ ~ ~ Maybe he resented my chastity belt, or maybe he resented Ms. Underbust for not trusting him, but for whatever reason, Mr. Steele changed his attitude toward me. He made fun of me, bought me humiliating things to wear, treated me like a toy, played embarrassing games at my expense. I wasn't sure what he was up to. It made me feel even more powerless and ashamed. He started by making me wear a butt plug. A small one at first, then larger ones as the weeks passed. He changed his "Lace on your butt" game so that the winner could play with my plug instead of giving me a love tap. He would push it in a little deeper, or draw it in and out, or twist it inside me, or wiggle it back and forth. He told me to pretend the plug was giving me girly orgasms, so I had to moan and arch my back and call him master and beg him for more. It was utterly degrading. I wondered why he didn't fuck me in the ass. Maybe he just didn't like anal sex. I was glad - the butt plugs were painful enough. For a month, he made me leave off my dress, petticoat and slip every Nudie Monday and spend the day in just my corset, stockings, panties, apron and cap. He gave me swats or played with my plug whenever he liked, because the white lace on the seat of my panties was always visible. By now, all my panties were black satin with rows of white lace on the bottom. I spent a weekend made up as his kitten. I had to wear a headband with furry cat ears, eyeliner whiskers on my cheeks, black makeup on my nose, a rhinestone-studded collar and leash, and a black leotard and tights. He replaced my butt plug with one that had a kitty tail attached. He made me crawl everywhere on all fours. He wouldn't let me talk or use the toilet. Instead, I had to meow when I needed to go, and he would take me into the back yard on my leash and make me squat on bare dirt to do my business. I pooped only once that weekend, and he made me use my paws to scrape dirt over it, the way kitties do. On another weekend, he turned me into a baby. I had to wear adult diapers and plastic panties over my chastity belt, an adult-sized baby dress that didn't quite cover my diaper, and a baby bonnet that limited my vision. I had to crawl everywhere, like when I was a cat. I had to have a bottle of milk or a pacifier in my mouth at all times. I spent hours in the den forced to sit inside a real baby playpen, playing with a doll and watching infantile shows on TV. He watched me on a security camera to make sure I wasn't breaking any of his baby rules. I think he got off more on the idea of turning me into a baby than the reality of it. The breaking point came when Ms. Underbust refused to change my diapers, and Mr. Steele decided he didn't want to, either. I was out of diapers and back in panties before sundown. I thought I'd escaped from humiliation... But I hadn't. Instead of a baby, Mr. Steele turned me into a little girl. He dressed me in an adult-sized little girl's frilly pink party dress, with a Peter Pan collar, a bodice embroidered with flowers, puff sleeves, a filmy skirt that barely reached my thighs, and a wide pink sash that he tied in a bow behind my back. Under it I wore Disney Princess panties, a girl's camisole, and a scratchy net petticoat that rustled whenever I moved. Completing my little girl outfit were lacy ankle socks, Mary Jane shoes, pigtails tied with bright pink ribbons, and matching pink nail polish and lipstick. I looked - and felt - about six years old. My mistress and master spoke to me as if I was a little girl, making me call them Mommy and Daddy and using lots of cutie-pie words. Sometimes they told me to suck my thumb instead of talking. Sometimes they made me skip everywhere. I liked wearing the dress, but I hated pretending to be a six-year-old and couldn't wait to become my real age again. Unfortunately for me, Mr. Steele went through a bondage phase, my least favorite of all. For a month on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I wore padded cuffs and foot-long chains between my wrists and between my ankles, and another chain connecting the wrist and ankle chains, making it almost impossible for me to raise my arms above my shoulders. He buckled my rhinestone collar around my neck and attached my kitty leash to it so that he could lead me around the house. For a day, he made it a rule that I could move from room to room only if someone led me by my leash, but it was such a bother for him and Ms. Underbust to move me around for chores that he canceled the rule. When I wasn't working, he locked a chain from an eyebolt in my bedroom ceiling to my collar, a chain long enough to let me lie on the bed or crawl on the floor, but not long enough to reach the door. When he tired of chaining me up, he started making me wear girls' Halloween costumes instead of my maid's outfits. He liked me to dress up as a ballerina, in a leotard, tights, ballet slippers and a real tutu, with my hair up in a bun, and made me do lots of ballerina curtsies. From a costume rental shop, he brought home in turn a yellow satin princess dress with a tiara, a Cinderella dress with a huge blue skirt, a Scarlett O'Hara hoopskirt with a crinoline, a fairy dress in shades of green chiffon that fluttered like leaves in a forest breeze, and a Wonder Woman outfit with a bustier, short skirt, knee-high heeled boots and a tiara. It felt odd for Wonder Woman to be dutifully hand- washing her mistress' lingerie in Woolite and hanging it out to dry. Mr. Steele ordered me some Lolita outfits from Japan - incredibly frilly skirts and blouses with overskirts, aprons, and layers of petticoats, all in delicate, feminine fabrics trimmed with ruffles, pleats, embroidery, lace, ribbons and bows. The outfits included colorful stockings, platform shoes, and elaborate wigs, elaborate bonnets and hair jewelry. I felt more girly doing my chores in a Lolita dress than in any of my maid's uniforms. And then there was the wedding game. Ms. Underbust rented me a wedding gown with all the underpinnings for a weekend, and on Saturday afternoon, she escorted me to her salon, where she had them put my hair in a bridal updo and do my makeup. Back home, she pulled out a bunch of garment bags and made me put on wedding lingerie, bridal petticoats, a veil and a white A-line gown with a lace bodice embroidered with seed pearls. Mr. Steele put on a suit. Ms. Underbust wore a black skirt and white blouse and pretended to marry me to Dirk. She played the wedding march on her phone. I walked slowly across the living room to join Mr. Steele at a pretend altar. Ms. Underbust read an extremely abbreviated wedding service in which I promised to love, serve and obey him. We said our I do's, and she pronounced us master and sissy. He put a costume-jewelry ring on my finger, lifted my veil and kissed the bride. He picked up me and the gown with ease, he carried me upstairs to the master bedroom and dropped me on the bed. The skirt of the gown fell back, exposing my layers of petticoats. I was terrified, not knowing what he planned to do to me, but she rescued me by telling Mr. Steele that we needed to attend the wedding reception before there could be a wedding night. She led us back downstairs and poured us all flutes of champagne, and to my great relief, that was the end of the game. Ms. Underbust announced that I would be spared a "wedding night" with my mock husband, which gave the two of them another good laugh. As we waited for our favorite restaurant to deliver our dinner, I sipped my champagne and said as little as possible. The only part I'd enjoyed was putting on and wearing the wedding gown. I'd never worn one, absolutely loved the feeling, didn't want to take it off tonight and was sorry we had to return it. Like my Cinderella dress, it would have been completely impractical for housework, but in it I felt like a princess. The main problem with the wedding game - maybe the only problem - was the groom. I wondered what Ms. Underbust thought of the ways Mr. Steele was playing with me and the clothes he was making me wear. The cost wasn't an issue - she was well off, and I gathered his business was flourishing - but he was focusing so much of his attention on me instead of her that I wondered how healthy their relationship was. I managed to hint at this while talking with her one day, and she put me at my ease, sort of. "Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I mean, I think it's silly that he makes you go around wearing those ridiculous outfits, but if it doesn't bother you, it doesn't bother me." Actually, it did bother me - did she think I liked wearing diapers or chains? - but she went on. "He likes shiny new toys, and you're his shiny new toy at the moment. When he tires of playing with you, he'll start leaving you alone to do the housework, and I'll be ready and waiting for him." "But what he makes me do, it's just so embarrassing!" "Embarrassing? Says the boy who willingly wore lingerie and a maid's uniform to get his first job?" She had me there. "Yes, ma'am." Curtsy. I always worried about Mr. Steele discovering my boy bits, but he discovered my lack of girl bits instead. I was sitting on the sofa with him one day, feeling sexy but ridiculous to be wearing my Wonder Woman costume while watching Gal Gadot kick ass on TV. He had his arm around me, and after one particularly exciting fight sequence, he slipped his other hand into one of the gold-trimmed cups of my red bustier. "Eeek!" I shrieked in surprise. He usually left my breasts alone - they were unimpressive, more moobs than boobs, and he seemed to be a legs and butt man. I wasn't wearing a bra under the bustier, so he discovered my other secret right away. "Lisa! What the hell? Falsies?" I was so embarrassed. I should have worn a strapless bra under the bustier. "Yes, master.... I'm sorry... I don't have big breasts. Lots of girls like me wear them." He pulled my breast forms out of the cups. By now my mistress had bought me small silicone forms to replace the balled-up pantyhose I wore in my first bra. He set them aside and brushed my real nipple lightly. A thrill ran through my body, and my nip erected. It was small, but it was definitely upright. He flicked it with his finger. I gasped. "Does that feel good?" he asked. "Yes, master!" "Are your breasts still growing, or is that as big as they'll get?" he asked. "I don't know, master." "Would you like them to be bigger?" It all depended. Was I going to be a girl for the rest of my life? Or was my time as Ms. Underbust's maid just an aberration? Would I grow up and change back into boys' clothes and go to college and get a job and marry and start a family? That prospect felt way too normal, but... well, it was normal. If I accepted that I was a sissy maid and needed to look like one, there were big changes I needed to consider, and one of them was the state of my bosom. I needed to talk to Ms. Overbust about it. "Larger breasts would look better on a maid, as long as they didn't distract her master," I replied. That much was true. "I could give them to you," Dirk said. "A girl as pretty as you should have nicer tits." He played with my nipples. I sucked in my breath, felt my nerves vibrate with pleasure. "How...?" "I'd pay for you to have implants," he said. "They'd be quicker than hormones, right? What are you now, an A cup? You should have C cups at least, don't you think?" "I don't know, master," I said. I found myself unconsciously thrusting out my flat chest at him. I knew Ms. Underbust was a D cup and didn't want to compete with her, so C sounded perfect. "Aren't they very expensive?" "Don't worry about it. Real breasts will be even more fun for you than dressing up as my favorite female superhero." I wasn't too sure about that, but real breasts certainly would fill out my dresses better than breast forms, and the soft bras and slips and nightgowns I wore might feel delicious sliding over womanly nipples. Life would be better with breasts - if I remained a girl. Not so much if I ever wanted to be a boy again. I talked it over with Ms. Underbust. She said she'd been meaning to ask. She offered to pay for breast reduction surgery if I ever needed it, so I agreed to have implants. She asked me if there was anything I wanted to have removed, and I said no. My cock and balls weren't much use to me now, but I couldn't foresee the future. She scheduled the surgery and drove me to my appointments and consultations. On the morning of the procedure, she and Mr. Steele both came to the hospital with me. The operation was expected to last up to two hours, and if all went well, I'd be home by early afternoon with a brand-new bosom. I was lying on a gurney in my hospital gown with an IV in my arm when a doctor came to make a final check. "We're giving Lisa two C-cup breast implants, correct?" "Yes, doctor," Ms. Underbust said. "And we're not removing the testes or penis, correct?" Dirk's jaw dropped. "What?!" Ms. Underbust laid a firm hand on his forearm. "Not now, Dirk. Just wait and I'll explain. No, doctor, we're not." The doctor finished his check and said I'd be going into surgery in a few minutes. Dirk was staring at me, hard. He managed to keep his voice down. "Tina, what the hell's going on here? Is Lisa a boy or a girl?" "Lisa was born a boy, but she's all girl inside," my mistress said. "I found that out when I had her house-sit for me. She tried on all the clothes in my closet, and afterwards she agreed to become my maid, and as far as I know she hasn't worn boys' clothes since I took all of hers to Goodwill. Lisa is a pretty little sissy, small and weak, dainty and submissive. She's more feminine than most of the genetic girls I know, and cuter, too. I mean, she fooled you." "He did!" Dirk almost snarled. "All this time, both of you let me think he was a girl! You tricked me! I made him give my friends blowjobs! If they knew..." "Keep it down, Dirk. Lisa's sucked you off, too." "I know! Too gay! I wouldn't have done it if I knew he was a boy. What's his real name?" "Oh, Dirk, Lisa isn't a boy! She was born to wear panties and dresses. Just look at her!" "But he has a cock and balls, right?" Dirk said. "I mean, how can a boy wear a chastity belt for a girl?" "I had it adjusted," Ms. Underbust said. "Fortunately, Lisa has a slender waist and is, um, modestly equipped." "But..." The two of them shut up when a doctor and nurse arrived to wheel me into surgery. The doctor added medication to my IV and said I would fall asleep quickly. My last thought was that I was going to miss the rest of the conversation between my master and mistress. I'd expected Dirk to explode when he learned I had male parts, but he didn't, even though it obviously took him by complete surprise. When I woke up in recovery, they were both there, apparently at peace with each other. We were alone in the room. A nurse came in to check on me, told me I was doing great and left. "How are you feeling, Lisa?" Ms. Underbust asked. "My stomach's a little wonky, ma'am, but otherwise I'm okay. How do my breasts look?" "They're all covered up, but your figure looks much better, more feminine," she said. "Oh, and I have news!" She extended a limp left hand toward me. A diamond gleamed on her ring finger. "Oh!" I squealed. "Are you engaged?" "Yes!" "To Mr. Steele?" Stupid question, but I had to ask. They'd been starting a fight when I left. I guess she won. She rolled her eyes. "Of course!" "Congratulations!" I said the expected words, but had decidedly mixed feelings. I liked living with Ms. Underbust, but I could not say the same of Mr. Steele. "Did all this happen while I was in the operating room? Did he get down on one knee?" "Yes, I did," Mr. Steele said. "Before we go any further I want to apologize." That would be a first. "For what, master?" "For the way I've treated you. Like a plaything and not a person. I'm sorry, Lisa." My jaw dropped open. I shut it. What a day of surprises! Since when did Dirk the Jerk realize I was a person? "Tina and I had a talk while you were in surgery," he said. "I would call it more of a come-to-Jesus meeting," Ms. Underbust said, tapping her foot. "Yes." Mr. Steele seemed subdued. "Well, she made me realize I was using you to avoid dealing with the big real-life decision I need to make. I played games like 'Lace on your butt' because they were less stressful and more fun than deciding to get married and settle down and, who knows, become a family man." Wow. These were the most self-aware thoughts I'd ever heard him express. I wondered what Ms. Underbust had told him to put him in this state of mind. Maybe he was speaking from his new orifice, the one she tore into him. He seemed softer spoken than earlier, maybe even slightly cowed. Well, I knew what my mistress was capable of, and frankly didn't mind if she had put the fear of the Goddess Tina into her man. I just wished I could have seen it. "Wow! What a lot to think about! What are you going to do, master?" I said. "I love Tina and I'm going to marry her," he said, "and we hope you'll be our housemaid." My mistress nodded. "And my bridesmaid," she said. "I'll show you the dress, it's pink and very girly. You'll love it!" I turned to Mr. Steele and searched my heart for the right words to say. "You treated me badly, master, and I didn't like it, but I accept your apology. All I ask is that from now on, please think of me as a person, not just a plaything." "Dirk needs to do more than that," my mistress said. "He needs to understand that you're a sissy. Not a girl, not a boy, but a sissy, a delightful combination of the best of both genders. You're not crude and violent like a man, and you're not bitchy and backbiting like a woman. You are a perfect servant and a lovely person who deserves to be treated with respect. I'm proud to have you as part of my household, and I hope you'll stay with me forever." "So do I," my master said. "Tina told me something that really got to me. She said that I was not treating you the way a gentleman should treat a faithful servant... regardless of whether she's a boy or a girl or a sissy. That stung. She was right. I'll do my best to be a gentleman from now on." I was so happy that I started to cry. "Thank you, master, thank you, mistress! Wow, I'm going to be a bridesmaid! Oh, and thank you so much for my boobs! Can we go home now?" The End