Scarface Tamed Part I free porn video

Scarface tamed Part I By Faye Croft Rebecca and Scott lived together in a small flat in London, not married but now a year into a relationship which seemed to be working. At least Scott thought it was, but Rebecca seemed to dominate the space they lived in. His clothes had been confined to ever more small sections of the drawers and wardrobe. His books had to be taken to the local charity shop when he had read them, there was no room on the shelves for books which had been read. Except for her books, which had greater value and use, and might be read again, or be reference books. Or so she said. Scott was relaxed about this, after all, he didn't need much by way possessions. One day he came home with a polo neck jumper, bought to cover a nasty scar on his throat. He'd had an accident at work, and because they said it was due to his own negligence, he had been out of work since then, and now was struggling to cover his half of the bills. He wasn't taking this lying down, and had one of those no-win no fee lawyers pursuing his case. He thought the guard, which they said he had removed from the machinery (and he hadn't) was known to be defective, and the manager was covering up his own incompetence in not getting it fixed. Rebecca had given him the nickname "Scarface" as a joke to make light of the nasty injury. She had also placed an embargo on his spending, saying he needed to manage his finances better, and she would have to take action if he wasn't able to be more responsible. He was receiving a little money from the dole, but was hoping to get a big compensation payout at some point in the future. So when he brought home the jumper arrived, she was furious. The label was still attached - ?120, and she hit the roof. "You stupid man," she shouted, "where did you get the money from to pay for this? Next months rent, I suspect?" Scott went white under her verbal onslaught, and tears sprang to his eyes as he tried to explain that he wanted something to cover the scar, and he was sorry. Rebecca drew deep breath, and calmed down. "OK, scarface, I forgive you, but we are going to have to find a solution to both overspending, and hiding your scar." She took the jumper and the receipt, and put them back in the bag. "This is going back for a refund, we have no space to store it anyway," she said. She went to the bedroom and returned with a dark blue satin scarf, and tied this artfully around Scotts throat, finishing it with a knot which held it firmly in place, and covering the scar. "There, sweetie, that's better," she said smiling broadly, "and you do look nice with that scarf, very stylish." Scott looked in the mirror, and though he looked a bit girlish, the scarf matched his blue shirt ok, and it certainly hid the scar, but the satin fabric screamed girly scarf at him. "Have you got a cotton scarf? This one looks all glossy and wrong for a fella," he asked. Rebecca sighed in exasperation, and went back to the bedroom. She returned with a scarf hidden behind her back, and removed the blue satin, before sliding a cotton scarf into place, and tying it in a neat bow. Scott looked in the mirror to see his throat adorned with a pink flowery scarf which looked twice as girly as the last one. "Rebecca, this is no good, its even more girly than the last one," he whinged, and as he turned to her, she slapped his face. "How dare you be so unthankful? You will wear the scarves I give you, and you will not argue. It's your fault you are wearing a pink flowery scarf which doesn't match your shirt, not mine. In future, you will accept the kindness I show you in concealing your scar by accepting the scarf I select each day without question." This went on for the next few days, with Scott wearing a variety of Rebeccas scarves, each matching his shirt. When he chose a shirt she couldn't match, he was told to change his shirt to suit the scarf. The scarves were mainly satin and silk, and sometimes patterned. He stayed around the flat mostly that week, only going out to sign on for the dole money and buy food - his job since he had been out of work. She gave him a list and exactly the right amount of money to pay for the food, and this was the only money she trusted him with. His credit cards now resided in her purse. The next Saturday, she had collected a few more of his books together to take to the charity shop, and insisted he come with her to carry the books and have a browse. She chose a lilac coloured silk scarf for him, and rejected the shirt he chose as being unsuitable. He only had one other shirt clean at the time, and when he put this on, she rejected it as well. With a sigh of mock despair, she went into the bedroom and returned with a cream silk shirt, no, a cream silk blouse and handed this to him. "What am I supposed to do with this?" asked Scott. "Put it on, silly, it complements your scarf" she replied, and he could see from her tone of voice that she would brook no objection. He put the cream silk shirt on, but found he couldn't reach the buttons, which were all the way down the back. He took it off again as if to reject it. "Here," she said, "I'll help." And she slid his arms into the long sleeves, whilst she buttoned him up the back. He was trapped in the blouse. She then tied the scarf round his neck with a bow to one side, hiding his scar, but making him look truly girly. She pinned a brooch through the scarf and blouse to hold it in place. She smiled at her creation, he really did look very sweet, although she was going to have to do something about his lower half. But that would be for another day. "OK, doll," she said, "you look gorgeous, and it really turns me on seeing you so nicely dressed, and the scar hidden as well. Just pop a jacket on and we'll go shopping. I think I might rename you Scarf Ace, in recognition of your pretty scarves." Scott was in two minds as to whether to protest, but he was encouraged by her words of admiration, maybe he wasn't too bad in this blouse and scarf. He slipped a leather jacket on, hoping it would hide the blouse, and off they went to the charity shop. When they got there, Rebecca took him by the hand and led him into the ladies wear section. "I've been thinking that its about time you stopped borrowing all my clothes at home, it really is too much, and now you have started borrowing my blouses," she remarked in a loud voice which carried across the shop. Several other shoppers glanced across, and Scott felt their eyes on his scarf and blouse. "What are we to do, hmmm? Time you had more clothes of your own?" "I don't need any more clothes, honest, Rebecca," he replied in an unconvincing manner, "anyway, theres no more space in my drawer for new clothes." "Exactly, Scott, my love, it will have to be one in, one out, so if we buy you any clothes today, you have to throw away the equivalent from home. That's sounds fair to me. Do you agree?" This latter question was addressed to another woman in the shop, who wholeheartedly agreed - and the two women began an enthusiastic conversation about managing mens wardrobes. "He has been insisting on wearing my scarves all this week, and I decided he needed some of his own, so that's why we are here today" said Rebecca. Scott tried to protest but was ignored, as the shop assistant joined the conversation. "Scarves are on the rail over there, but I do have a lot more in the back if you want to see a greater variety?" "Oh yes please," said Rebecca. "I'd like to see all that you have. Scott is very fussy about matching his scarf to his shirt, which is why he ended up borrowing my blouse today. I do worry that he may spoil my clothes as he is a size bigger than me, I think. This blouse only fits him because it has generous sleeves. What size would you say he is?" She addressed this last question again to the other woman in the shop, who was enjoying the discussion. The assistant now whipped a tape measure out from under the counter and Scott was ordered to take his jacket off and hold his arms up while they measured him. He blushed as he removed his jacket to show the complete cream silk blouse, with its full sleeves gathered at the cuffs, and pearly buttons down the back. "Oooh how pretty you look" cried Rebeccas new friend, who introduced herself as Sally. "I am going to enjoy helping you choose some new clothes - that is, if you don't mind me helping?" And Rebecca said she would be delighted to have her thoughts on the subject. Scott didn't seem to have much say in the matter. He just wished the ground would swallow him up. To cut a long story short, the three women (the assistant was equally enthusiastic, and joined in when she wasn't serving other customers), chose Scott seven new scarves - one for each day of the week, apparently. He was asked if he liked each one they considered, and found he was outvoted on them all. They were, without exception, silk or satin, and in a range of colours and patterns that made no pretence at being masculine. They were girlie scarves. Some were flowery, others had striking patterns, all were in bright colours, some were long and narrow, others classic squares. When the assistant said it was half price day, Rebecca squealed with glee - each scarf was priced at ?2, so it brought the cost down to a modest ?1 each. Sally laughed and part jokingly suggested they spend the savings on a nice shirt or two for Scott, as it would be wrong for him to continue to borrow hers. Scott was pleased at this suggestion, and headed for the rail of mens shirts, but the ladies had other ideas. They descended on the ladies blouse rail. "16 to 18, I think, said the assistant. We have some pretty blouses in at the moment, and I've more out the back." "Scott, come here, so we can see how they might look," commanded Rebecca. And he was obliged to stand by them as they held a range of blouses up against him. They slowly selected a short list of blouses, and he was obliged to hold the chosen options by the hangers as they worked their way through the rail, and the additional ones brought from the back. He finally had six blouses and was ordered to take them into the changing cubicle and try each one on in turn, and then come and show the ladies how he looked. He was appalled, this was getting out of hand, and he tried to protest. But Rebecca was having nothing of it. She grabbed him by the ear lobe, always a painful trick of hers, and pulled him towards the cubicle, and as she went, she scolded, "I have never heard such an ungrateful wretch as you, my dear sweet Scott. All we are asking you to do is try on some shirts to supplement your wardrobe, and all I get is whingeing and protests. I'm not having it, so get that into your little brain. If you can't accept the help that Sally and I and the assistant here ("my names Naomi," interjected the assistant), that is Naomi are offering, you can pack your bags and get the hell out of my flat and my life. Since the accident, you've been an idle trollop, hanging round the flat, bringing no money in, hardly touching the housework, and its going to change. Smartening up your wardrobe is just part of the change. Now, show us how these blouses look, or you can kiss your soft life goodbye!" Scott stood defeated, tears springing from his eyes. Sally pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at his cheeks, saying words of comfort. "Poor ickle Scotty boy, its all right, we'll look after your wardrobe, and you will look lovely when we are finished, trust us." Rebecca knew she had won this battle as Scott heaved a sigh and disappeared into the changing room. He pulled the curtain to, and after a short pause, a little voice asked Rebecca of she would undo his buttons as he couldn't reach. She pulled the curtain aside and undid his buttons, and slid the silk blouse from his trembling body. He had put a bit of weight on since the accident, and had small man boobs, and being blonde, the hair on his chest barely showed. Sally giggled and suggested he needed a bra to help his tits fill a blouse properly. Naomi produced a pretty white cross your heart longline bra in a flash, and Scott was told to hold his arms out, and the bra slid into place, imprisoning his small breasts into a tight cage of uncompromising corsetry. The bra was probably a size too small which pushed his flesh into a startlingly good semblance of budding boobs, which all three women were delighted with, and they cooed their approval of his new shape. Scott stamped his foot, and this brought yet more laughter. "Just like a girl, stamping her foot when she doesn't get her way," said Sally. "And that petulant trembling lip is so girlie," said Naomi. Scott was defeated. He now proceeded to try on each blouse in turn, and then walk around the shop as they inspected him from different angles. They chose four from the six, and they were uncompromisingly feminine. They were all in soft drapey fabrics, satin, silk, georgette, two had diaphanous sleeves, all had lace trim in some shape or form, and they had a range of necklines, from one with a high collar and ruffle buttoned right up to the throat, and again with just buttons down the back through to another with a big pussy bow at the front. The women were delighted, and commented on which scarf might go with which blouse. They decided he should keep the high necked ruffle blouse on to go home in, with a toning narrow satin ribbon tied round the collar and in a bow at the front - very preppy, said Rebecca. And they were also unanimous in agreeing he should be allowed to keep the bra on, as it enhanced his shape so well and made the blouse fit better. Scott just accepted whatever indignity was heaped on him by now. He just wanted to get out of the shop, and get back to the flat. It was late afternoon, and he had had enough of the day. In fact, Naomi announced it was closing time for the charity shop, it closed at 4 on a Saturday, and did her new-found friends fancy a drink before heading home. Scott immediately refused, saying they had to get back, but Rebecca, of course, contradicted him and took up the idea wholeheartedly. "Scott can buy the first round, can't you my love?" she said mischieviously. Naomi handed him a pink carrier bag with his purchases in, and told him what a lucky boy he was. Scott buttoned his leather jacket right to the top, and turned the collar up, and the ladies observed this with amusement. Naomi quickly cashed up the till, and closed the shop, and they headed out onto the high street and walked down to the nearest pub. They chose a table in an alcove, and decided what they might drink, and Rebecca decided that Scott should have an orange juice and lemonade with ice, lemon and cocktail stick to stir it. The other girls ordered, and Rebecca, who was nimble with figures, calculated the likely cost, and then produced a small pink purse from her bag, and placed some money in it. She handed it to Scott, and sent him to the bar to get the drinks. It was warm in the pub, but despite this, Scott retained his jacket, even though the lace edged ruffled collar could be seen clearly above the jacket collar. Scott was used to being given the purse, she always gave him just enough money, but this time, he found she had underestimated. The barmaid, laughed and said he needed a bigger purse, and he had to trail back to the table to ask for more money. Rebecca handed him the precise amount, and he returned. "Thanks doll," said the barmaid "and I love your lacy blouse" she added as he turned away with the drinks tray. He could hear the giggles from the bar as he made his way back to the table. He blushed bright red, and wanted the floor to swallow him up. The three ladies smiled broadly, and thanked him for his waitress service. Back at the flat after several drinks in the pub, and fond farewells to Naomi and Sally, who both promised to keep in touch, Scott breathed a sigh of relief as they came through the door, and he dumped his pink carrier bag on the floor and headed for the kitchen. Fridge open, can of beer out, he returned to the lounge to see Rebecca standing there, hands on hips, looking pointedly at the bag on the floor. "Excuse me," she said and took one stride towards him, grabbed the beer can, slapped his face, took him by the ear lobe and set to. "How dare you just dump the shopping on the floor, and march off for a beer!! What about my drink, hmmm? And we do not leave untidy heaps on the floor in my flat." Scott reeled under the onslaught, and tears sprang to his eyes yet again. Rebecca stripped him of his leather jacket, and told him not to move. She nipped into the kitchen and returned with one of her full aprons from the kitchen, which she promptly fitted to the shaking man, long straps over the shoulders fitting to the waist ties, which she tied in a big bow at the back. "That's better" she said, as Scott showed no resistance. He stood in his silk blouse, lilac scarf, his small boobs pressing against the fabric, and the pinafore apron adding a truly domestic touch. Rebecca fussed round him straightening the skirt of the apron and setting the scarf just right, making encouraging cooing noises about how pretty he looked, and for him not to be upset about his new clothes, they were truly delightful, and she loved him dressed so nicely. "Now, for future reference, when we have been shopping, and return to the flat, you will always, without exception, put an apron on, and put away your new purchases in your drawers. You will put away food shopping, and make us both a drink, and when you have done, that, we will decide together what items of clothing have to go to make way for the new ones. Those items can go in a charity shop bag, which we will take to the charity shop next Saturday as a donation. Is that clear?" said Rebecca. "Yes, love, I understand, but this can't be a regular thing, I don't need any more clothes, thankyou, especially these type of clothes," he replied. Rebecca took his chin in her strong fingers and turned his face towards her. "Listen very carefully, Scott. It will be a regular thing, and I decide when you have enough proper clothes, and I will brook no argument. You live off my earnings at present, and whilst that is the case, you obey my rules. If you don't like it, you can get out of the flat and take your suitcase of grotty clothes with you. I love you dearly, but I can't have you slumming it here all day, waiting for the compensation from your accident to materialise one fine day. It may never come, and what then? You need me, and I need you to run the flat, I can't be expected to work all day and then come home and cook and clean, but only if you are here on my terms." Rebecca was warming to the theme. She hadn't meant to say she needed him to run the flat, but the thought was quite appealing. No more cooking and cleaning, let Scott be the domestic, he has nothing better to do..... Scott just nodded, like a rabbit caught in the headlights, and Rebecca asked him to answer. Yes or no? "Yes, Rebecca. I love you too, and I don't want to lose you, so I will try harder to keep the place tidy, and cook sometimes. When my compensation comes, it will be different. And when my scar is healed, I can go out and get a job again and we can go back to sharing the chores?" Rebecca smiled. "Yes, Scott my love, we are where we are now, and let's leave the future to the future. You are the housekeeper, and I am the Mistress of the house for now. If the compensation comes through, we can consider how best to use it. I've always said that we can't afford to get married, but that might change everything. As long as our relationship is acceptable to me, and we both learn our place in life, I may agree to marriage." Scott couldn't believe his ears, he had longed to marry Rebecca for months, but she had always found excuses why they couldn't consider it. Maybe his luck was changing. "Thankyou, Rebecca, that would be heaven, I love you so much, and to be able to call you my wife - well, it would be a dream come true." "I will draw up a schedule tonight of the simple basic work which needs to be done round the flat each day. I will pay you ?1 an hour for a 40 hour week. That reflects what I expect to be your skill level and competence to carry out the work. I'm sure a man of your skills will be able to handle this easily, which could lead to a pay rise, so let's see how we get on?" Rebecca smiled mischievously. Scott was about to find out the high standards of cleaning, cooking and laundry that she wished to become accustomed to. "Now go and put away your new clothes and bring me the items you are going to discard. I think you have four new blouses and seven scarves, so that's eleven items to go to charity shop. Be sharp now, and one other thing..." Scott looked quizzically at her as he rose to leave. "I'd take it as a token of your love and devotion to me if you curtseyed each time you leave my presence, and each time you return." Scott laughed. "Curtsey? I have no idea how to" he replied and was just turning away when Rebecca rose and took him by the earlobe yet again, pinching hard. "Then I can teach you, sweet one, if you ask me nicely," she said pinching harder still. "Yes, yes, oooowwwwww," cried Scott, "please teach me, and let go eeeehhhh ow." Scott followed Rebeccas instructions, taking the bottom corners of his apron in each finger and thumb, holding the skirt out wide, placing one foot behind the other and dipping low. After several attempts, he achieved a passable effort, and Rebecca allowed him to go to the bedroom. He mumbled to himself in the bedroom as he cleared space for the new blouses and scarves. "Stupid idea this, she must be mad thinking I'm going to wear any of these blouses outside, and I'm not throwing away anything of my own that matters..." He dug around in the drawers and found some old tshirts which were well past their useable condition, they had holes, and paint splashes. He took four of these, and he also took an old tie he had always hated and three pairs of threadbare socks out (that was another six items), and returned to the lounge. Rebecca looked up, and said nothing, she just looked expectantly. Scott realised she was waiting for the curtsey, so he dropped his old clothes on the floor and dipped with apron skirt spread wide. She nodded approvingly and asked to see the items he was discarding before he bagged them. "Really Scott, this won't do, we can't possibly give these to a charity shop, they are not even fit to be cleaning cloths. Bin them and go and find eleven proper items of clothing." Rebecca eventually had to follow him through to the bedroom, and select suitable items for herself. Scott watched as she removed four of his better shirts, all three remaining ties, two pairs of trousers and and two pairs of pajamas. He protested the loss of the pajamas, pointing out that it would leave him with nothing to wear to bed, but Rebecca was adamant that she was not going to give substandard goods to the charity shop. "After all, you wouldn't want to buy substandard clothes for yourself from the charity shop, would you? How would you be feeling if we had chosen a torn blouse for you, or a scarf with a ragged edge, hmmm?" Rebeccas logic was overpowering, Scott nodded numbly, and placed the clothes into a carrier bag which was stowed in the hallway pending the next trip out. He noticed her putting a few more of his books into the bag as well - as she did so, she pointed out that he would have less time for reading now he had a fulltime job around the flat. The week passed in a blur for Scott, the schedule Rebecca had prepared was reasonable, but he had not appreciated the zealous manner in which she would check for completion. Dusting had to be done every day, and in the first few days, she found places which retained dust, tops of doors, backs of cupboards, and he found himself repeating tasks in the evening. Washing, drying and ironing had to achieve a minimum standard of perfection, and he was still trying to produce the standard of ironing on the Friday. He was allocated two pinafores, which were required to stay on all day, and he had precisely one day to wash, dry and iron the pinny he wasn't wearing, to be ready for the next day. "You really need more pinafores, don't you my love" said Rebecca on the Friday evening. "In fact, you need more of a number of things, I must talk to Naomi and Sally about it." On the positive side, bedtime had been transformed for Scott. With no pajamas, he went to bed naked each night and Rebecca indulged in a variety of foreplay with him, which resulted in at least two orgasms for her before he got his share, but my goodness, it was heaven. He enjoyed pleasuring her, and of course having his own relief, and he was brought to a climax in several different ways over the week, Rebecca saying that it was his reward for working so hard during the day. Only one night did this change. He had been reluctant to clean the cooker yet again on Thursday night, despite Rebecca showing him numerous places which were not spotless, even though he claimed to have cleaned it twice. She withdrew to her side of the bed, and he had no relief that night, just the cold shoulder. And without pajamas, he felt cold himself. When he complained to Rebecca, she angrily got out of bed, took something from her drawers and thrust it at him. "Wear this and stop whingeing," she said. He unfolded a long satin nightdress with lace frill round the hem, and was about to protest when he thought better of it, slipped inside the cool sleek garment and huddled back into bed , lying close to his loved one. He felt his little dick hardening as he lay there, inside the satin skirts, and knew that if he touched himself too much he would cum. But the erection wouldn't go away, and his hand wandered down to his groin and before he could wink, he felt it throbbing as he clutched it through the satin. He whimpered slightly, and was mortified when Rebeccas voice pierced the darkness. "If you have just cum in my nightie, that's the last time you will be allowed the privilege of wearing my clothes. As its obviously so desirable, and we are donating your pajamas to a better cause, you will have to get your own nighties at the weekend." And she turned onto her back, and commanded him to get down between her legs and lick. He did so eagerly, and stayed there for an hour or more, pleasuring her with all his might. He realised that doing his bit round the flat was fundamentally associated with good sex, and like a true Pavlovian dog, he reacted accordingly. For Rebecca, she was enjoying the new bedtime regime, she got to have at least two orgasms, and Scott seemed to really enjoy spending time between her legs, with his tongue almost more than with his little dick. He was not well hung, but she didn't mind, she took pleasure from his tongue, his body and a nice range of toys she kept for when he used to be away. But the change in attitude towards sex was part of her greater and evolving plan to change the relationship between them. She liked the idea of being Mistress of the House, and having a housekeeper/maid to run the boring side of life, whilst at the same time giving her the physical pleasure she needed. Marriage was an option at present, she wasn't sure whether this was the right way to go. If she married Scott, she could exert greater control over him, but he might try and reclaim his role as man of the house, and even seek half of their possessions if he left her. If she merely subjugated him and he became a dedicated servant, he would still provide all the things she wanted from him, but he couldn't lay claim to being the man of the house, or to her income and possessions. But she had less control if there was no marriage. It was a tricky one, but she was content to mull it over for a while, and not make a hasty decision. On Saturday morning, Scott had brought her breakfast in bed, and was allowed to join her with his own breakfast. Rebecca announced their plans for the day. They would be going into town for some shopping (which meant her shopping), and then having lunch with her Mother. Scott was let off domestic duties for the morning as she liked his company shopping, but was expected to tidy and clean in the afternoon. Rebecca sat compiling a list, as was her usual habit on a Saturday, and he could see over her shoulder two columns. He couldn't make out the words, but knew that some of the items were for him. For examples, nightdress was one - and he knew his disgrace in cumming in her nightie was going to result in his own being bought. He could cope, they might buy it in a department store and he could just pretend it was for her. Rebecca insisted on choosing his clothes for the day, and to his surprise, she allowed him to wear an ordinary manshirt but with a pink flowery satin scarf. Usual trousers, pants, socks, and his leather jacket. Rebecca handed him the bag of clothes for the charity shop as they left the flat, and they walked from the flat to the high street. She made no effort to head for the charity shop to drop off the bag, rather she window shopped and went in a couple of music shops, and the hardware shop where she bought some cleaning bits and a new clothes airer. Scott was getting weighed down by her purchases, and with the charity shop bag as well, he asked if they might go to the shop to drop off the bag. "If you insist, we can go to the charity shop, but I'd like a cup of coffee first," said Rebecca, smiling, and she led Scott into a Costa Coffee. Scott ordered large black coffee, and Rebecca had a latte. They sat and drank and talked, and Rebecca took the chance to both criticise and praise Scotts efforts as the housekeeper in the last week. She was encouraging. She moved to go to the toilet before they left, and the strap of her handbag just caught on Scotts half finished coffee spilling it across the table into his lap. "S**t" he cried, jumping up and seeing the coffee soak into his trousers "look what you've done now" he whimpered grabbing some serviettes to try and absorb some of the hot coffee. "Don't you "s**t" me," spat Rebecca. "it was your own fault for not drinking it. How dare you imply it was my fault." She went to the ladies and returned. "Come on clumsy," she said brightly, "let's go and get rid of the charity shop stuff and see what we can do about your trousers. I'm sorry you spilled your coffee, but please don't use such foul language again. Now what do you say?" "I'm sorry, Rebecca, I didn't mean to swear, it was just the shock of the hot coffee in my lap," he replied. And she leant over and gave him a deep passionate kiss and whispered in his ear that she would be making sure his little man was alright tonight! Rebeccas phone, which had been beeping all morning with texts, beeped again. She quickly replied, and smiled as she did so. They walked down the road and came to the charity shop, and wondered in. Naomi was behind the counter along with another assistant, and her face broke into a broad smile as she saw Rebecca leading a rather messy looking Scott into the shop. "Oh my god, what happened to you?" And she immediately took over when Rebecca explained about him spilling his coffee into his lap. "Come through to the back here, and we'll sort you out." And she led him by the hand through the curtains into a backroom. As she went, she called to the other assistant, "Look after the shop for an hour, Jasmine, I have things to sort back here." There was a curtained off area in one corner, and she told Scott to go in there and remove everything the coffee had soaked into. That was his trousers and shirt, and he obediently went behind the curtain and removed his shirt and trousers. An arm appeared through the curtain gap. "Give," was all that was said, and he handed over his clothes. "Pants as well, they must be stained," came Naomis voice. He reluctantly stripped his pants off - they were a mess, and handed these out. He was left standing naked except for his socks and pink scarf. He heard the ladies talking and coming and going for a couple of minutes, and then suddenly the curtain was whipped back, and he was left standing near naked in front of Rebecca, Naomi and Sally. Where had she come from? He rapidly tried to hide his privates, and the ladies all laughed at his attempt at modesty. "Nothing to be shy about here," laughed Naomi, "I've seen more naked men than you've had hot dinners, although I must say its rare to see such a small winkie in a man." They all three burst into a fit of giggles at this. "Now girls, let's not be too hard on poor Scottie, if he wants to hide his privates, give him some panties to wear." At this, Naomi produced a pair of pink nylon frilled panties, with ruffles across the back - she called them dance panties, and helped Scott step into them and pulled them up his legs, settling them round his waist. The ladies all cooed in admiration at how sweet he looked. "Good job your little accident with the coffee only happened just down the road from here, now we can find you new clothes at very modest cost - you can pay for these out of your wages," said Rebecca. "Wages?" queried Sally. "Yes, Scott has taken on a new job, he is my fulltime housekeeper," replied Rebecca. "How can you have a housekeeper if you live in a flat, surely he must be the maid?" said Sally mischievously. "Mmmm you're right, Sally, Scott is really more my maid than a housekeeper, he is paid ?1 an hour for a 40 hour week, so we have a budget of ?40 to pay for any new clothes we need for him today. Now, let's start as we mean to go on in the presence of three ladies. What do you do when you come into or leave my presence?" "Curtsey," replied Scott mumbling. "And why have we seen no curtsey?" "Because I don't have an apron on to hold out," replied Scott thinking it was a great answer to excuse his forgetfulness. Naomi swooped on this reply. "No problem," she chortled "I have box full of pinnies here," and she lifted down a box to choose one. "Pink, I think, to match his scarf and prissy panties," she produced a sweet pink and white polka dot waist apron with nice long ties, and proceeded to tie it round his waist. "Now show us your curtsey," she ordered with glee. Scott took the apron in his finger and thumb, and just as Rebecca had taught him, put one foot behind the other, held the apron very daintily and dipped low. He blushed with the humiliation, but said nothing. After several repeats, the ladies were satisfied, and Sally, was almost in tears from laughing. This was such fun! They began talking about what else a maid might need to be properly dressed for work. Scott stood in the middle of the room, in socks, pink frilly panties, pink apron and pink flowery satin scarf. He shivered and fidgetted as he listened to the ladies talking about him as if he wasn't there. "Stop fidgeting Scott," commanded Rebecca, and after the third asking, she sighed dramatically, and walked behind the new maid, and took one of his hands and passed it through the loop of the bow on the apron ties. The other hand was put through the other loop, and she then pulled on the tie ends, drawing the loops closed around his wrists, fixing them firmly in place behind his back. With one further knot in the apron ties, he was not able to fidget any more. As Scott tried to protest, she took a pair of panties from one of the racks, and stuffed them firmly into Scotts mouth, daring him to spit them out. "Oh well done, Rebecca. Such a neat trick, that one!" Scott was silenced. The ladies ruled ok. And just to be sure, Rebecca took a long narrow satin scarf and wrapped it round Scotts stuffed mouth twice, pulling it tight so it pressed in between his teeth, and tied it in a big bow at the back of his head. "That should keep you nicely quiet for a while," said Sally giggling. "Now girls, what does a maid need to be properly dressed for work?" asked Rebecca. "Perhaps Scott can tell us what he still needs to be properly dressed? Oh no, of course he can't, he has a pair of panties in his mouth. Should we remove them? ," A discussion followed, about the benefits of a good panty gag for disrespectful maids, and Scott was requested to curtsey if he agreed with a suggestion for his uniform, or bow deeply if he disagreed. Naomi began. "Tights are an absolute must. Do you agree, Scott?" He hesitated, and then bowed deeply. "Oh dear, not a good start," said Naomi. "So if the maid rejects tights, she will just have to wear stockings and suspenders." Scott looked panic stricken and realised he had been sucked into that little trap. Sally came next. "A good maid should be shapely, I think he should have a little waist control. Is that acceptable, Scott?" He pondered briefly, imagining she was thinking of an elasticated belt like he'd seen nurses wear, that pulled them in at the waist. He took a risk and curtseyed. "Super, Scott agrees he should be corseted, I think I saw a box marked corsets on the shelf, can we see them please Naomi?" The box was quickly found and the contents explored. Scott was allocated a sturdy long line corselette with boning. Rebecca continued. "He already wears a bra, so we just need to make sure he has a suitable range of bras to manage his budding titties. I would like the maid to wear a full length slip over her foundationwear, so her profile is smoothed. What do you think to having a nice slip, Scott?" He pondered his options, and chose to neither bow nor curtsey. Rebecca frowned and then took Scott by the earlobe in her sharp fingernails and squeezed. "Answer please," she hissed as Scott squealed through his panty gag. He dropped a feeble curtsey, and Rebecca smiled in satisfaction. "I think we'll take that as a yes to the remainder of our suggestions. Some nice slips for the maid. And she should have some suitable dresses to go under her pinafores. I think she is size 16, so let's see what's available on the racks, I think I prefer plain lighter fabrics. And what about shoes? High heels are all very well for ladies of style, but I want the maid to be able to get on with her work, and so we should go for court shoes perhaps with a 2 inch heel?" Naomi nodded and added ," we'll check his shoe size and see what we've got. I also hope we may have one or two maids caps to complement the uniform. I must have a dig through the store-room." In the meantime, Rebecca guided Scott into the store-room - little more than a large cupboard really, and slipped a scarf round his elbows and tied them to a shelfpost, telling him he could cool his heels here while they organised his wardrobe, and how grateful he should be that they were going to all this trouble over him. She left the room, turning off the light and shutting the door. The ladies were pleased with their decisions and began to sort out not less than three of every item of the uniform for Scott, not forgetting panties and of course some scarves to hide his scar - the very thing that had triggered his downfall into domestic service. "Whilst we have a little time to ourselves, I have a suggestion," said Rebecca, and Sally and Naomi looked at her curiously. "My flat is quite small, and to be honest, if Scott can't keep it clean with two days a week efforts, then he deserves a good spanking. I wondered if you two ladies needed any domestic service? I'd be more than happy for him to come and clean or whatever else is needed at yours a day a week each. What do you think?" Naomi was delighted at the prospect, and eagerly accepted. She also asked tentatively if Scott might be available to take on some of the workload in the shop - cleaning and pressing new stock that came in every week, and making it ready for the shelves and racks in the shop. Sally also placed her order for a days cleaning, and it looked like Scott was going to be busy all week long. They each agreed to pay him ?8 a day less uniform costs. Rebecca agreed to all the suggestions with a smile of triumph. They then went on to sorting out their choices for his uniform, especially the dresses which would have the biggest impact on his appearance. Rebecca chose a simple black shirtwaister dress, kneelength in taffeta with a straight skirt, so it had a crisp rustle to the fabric, and looked very smart. Naomi went for the opposite extreme, she chose a bright floral print dress with a wide flared skirt, short sleeves which were puffed at the shoulder, and the waist was drawn in tightly by a belt. The hem of the skirt had a broderie anglaise ruffled edging, and further lace showed at the puff sleeves and neckline. "Very peasant girlish," said Naomi. Sally chose a very short skirt and blouse combination. The skirt was barely more than 12 inches and flared out widely from an elasticated waistband. It wouldn't hide much. They all picked out a slip or petticoat, and chose to match their dress choices. Naomi picked a wide flared fifties style froufrou petticoat, Sally a very short tutu style net petti, and Rebecca stayed more conservative with a full knee length satin slip with lace edging at the hem. It was agreed that Scott should be dressed in a basic set of undies and then model the petticoat dress combinations each had chosen. The three women were giggling like schoolgirls by the time they were ready to release Scott from his incarceration in the store cupboard. Rebecca went in and Scott immediately started to make noises through his gag, and they sounded dangerously like noises of protest. Rebecca leant close to him, and let her hand run down to his apron. She pressed forward with her body, and her fingers found his little willie inside their pink nylon prison, and she began to massage him, and he stopped moaning and began to whimper with pleasure. "now just think a little harder before you complain," she said "I don't want you upsetting my friends with your moaning, so if you want little winkie to come out to play later, just behave, be nice, and be obedient, and who knows what fun we might get up to tonight." Scott felt her stroking his throbbing winkie and was near to cumming when she stopped, and untied his gag, removing the sodden panties from his mouth. He winced and swallowed a few times, and nodded his agreement to being better behaved. Rebecca smiled warmly, and untied his wrists and released him from the scarf pinning him to the shelves. They returned to the main stock room, where Sally and Naomi were sitting waiting on the fashion show. Scott was handed bra, stockings and suspenders, corset, full length satin slip and ordered to remove his apron and start to get dressed "properly." He did so without demur, and Naomi couldn't resist adjusting his bra to take it one notch tighter, thus plumping up his budding tits a little further. She also made sure his corselette pulled him in to an appropriate shape. When fully lingeried, as Sally put it, he was given the floral print dress and wide bouffant petticoat. They fitted him perfectly, and he stood with skirts wide, looking quite the gypsy girl but without the right face, he was still very much a man in a skirt. He was trained in curtseying in this much fuller dress than he was used to, and the girls insisted he spread the skirts wider, and dip deeper until he almost fell over. Sally added a spray of artificial flowers which she pinned to his hair, but he still looked like a man in a skirt. There was debate about whether he should be given a wig, but the girls couldn't agree, so he was left to stand in humiliation as they tried different ideas - a headscarf, a fascinator, hats of various sorts and a maids cap with matching apron. It was finally decided that he would have to earn a fully feminine look by being diligent in his duties as a cleaner for all three ladies. When he heard that he was to be a cleaner for all three, he began to protest but was quickly hushed by Rebecca, who merely said "Complaints now mean no winkie play later. Is that what you want?" And Scott bit his lip and said no more. Pictures were taken as he was ordered to spin around to make the skirts flare out and pretend to dance , and his face was clear to see in most of these, a man in a dress, acting like a Shirley Temple wannabe. Next came the very short skirt that Sally had chosen, and Scott found himself showing off his stockings, his stocking tops and the suspender straps which held them in place. The skirt and short tutu were almost indecent and hid nothing from view, including the small bulge of his winkie in his pink panties which seemed to be perpetually excited, and leaked a good deal of precum. "Don't you dare let that winkie of yours get out of control," warned Rebecca. "You know I'm saving him a surprise for later." And she winked at the other two and smiled sweetly at Scott. He looked and felt very tarty in the short skirt, and the blouse that went with it was sheer and frilly, so his lingerie showed through and he could not hide the fact that he was dressed in some very pretty frilly lacey undies. Sally added a spray of perfume from a bottle she found on a shelf, saying he really should be nice to be around, and this would help. He became wrapped in a mist of rose petal scent. More photographs recorded his new uniform, and his apron and cap added to the sense of him being a saucy kitchen maid who was getting above her station. Finally, off came the skirt and blouse to be replaced by Rebecca's choice of the shirtwaister dress, which, with apron and cap, gave him much more the appearance of a normal maid. They complemented him for looking much more businesslike, and after giving him a pair of shoes, suggested he was fit to be out on the streets in such a sensible yet formal uniform. He became worried when this was said, no way did he want be outside in skirts. "I can't go out on the street in skirts, Rebecca," he cried in a querulous voice "please may I have some trousers?" Rebecca paused and seemed to ponder for a moment. "Well perhaps we can find something suitable for you, as long as you promise to take us all out for lunch at the caf? next door? You can pay for it out of your wages, so we aren't being extravagant. Is it a deal? Trousers for lunch?" she replied. "Yes, deal," he sighed. The ladies browsed the racks for a few minutes, the ladies racks of course, he expected that, but what he didn't expect was the flared palazzo pants which Sally swooped on for him. They were fuschia pink and draped beautifully in a wide swathe, trousers for sure, but when worn, you could barely see the legs, they rather appeared to be an ankle length skirt. "No need to take off your dress, the shirt top looks very smart with that scarf, and we can tuck your dress skirt inside the palazzos, plenty of room." And lucky you, it hides your stockings." He was helped into the wide legged pants and shown himself in a full length mirror. To all appearances, he was wearing a long skirt, black taffeta shirt, pink scarf and 2 inch black court heels. And looking every inch a man in skirts, a pansy, a sissy, a big Jessie. But he was given no time to dwell on the matter. Whilst he was being readied to leave, Naomi had added up the cost of his clothes. It came to a massive ?95, amazingly cheap for the amount of clothes he was being made to buy, but the equivalent of more than two weeks work at the rotten rate Rebecca had offered him. He didn't have the money of course, so Naomi agreed to set up a tab for him, and he would pay off the sum each week when he received his wages. She forgot to mention the interest she would be charging. Naomi said farewell to Jasmine, who by now had been joined by the lady on the afternoon shift, and they were ready for lunch. As Scott walked through the shop, Jasmine whistled and said "wow, love your outfit, sweetie, pink really suits you!" Scott scowled, and Rebecca turned to him. "Don't be so ungracious, Scott, thank Jasmine for her nice complement, and remember what you should always do when you come into the presence of a lady," instructed Rebecca. And Scott knew what he should do. He did a rapid curtsey to Jasmine and mumbled a thankyou. "Errr, deeper and louder please," commanded Rebecca, really enjoying the power she felt was growing over Scott. And Scott spoke up in a clear loud voice. "Thankyou Jasmine, I'm glad you like it." And he held out the skirt legs of his palazzo pants wide and dipped deeply, one foot behind the other. Jasmine giggled. "You're welcome sir, or should I call you miss?" And off they all went for lunch. Loaded down with bags, Scott followed the three women out of the shop, and it was a short step to the caf?. Scott felt so embarrassed as he swished along in his palazzo pants, the colour screamed femininity, yet he was clearly a man. Two people paused and stared, and he scurried into the caf? as quickly as he could. They took a table just inside the door by the window, and he was positioned just by the door. "This one is reserved," cried Scott, as they made to sit there, but Rebecca replied that she had booked it, it was reserved for them. Lunch was going to be a hard to bear...... Menus were passed around, except to Scott, who reached for one, but was denied by Rebecca."I will choose for you," she said. A pretty middleaged woman came to their table after a few minutes and greeted Rebecca by leaning over and giving her a peck on the cheek. "Hi there, how are you? Haven't seen you for ages," she said. "So pleased you have chosen us for lunch." "This is Jane, an old friend," announced Rebecca to the others. They greeted her and began choosing their food. Jane was dressed in Victorian style, with a long skirt and white blouse with puff sleeves, and a pinafore which covered her skirt and blouse. She also wore a mob cap in white cotton. It gave the caf? an olde worlde feeling and was rather charming. Rebecca ordered a tuna salad for Scott, and rather crypticly, asked Jane if this was a fair exchange for any service rendered. Jane concurred it was fine. As she left the table, she turned to Scott and said "I love your perfume, whats it called?" He blushed "I don't know." "It's called Pansy Perfect," said Naomi giggling, and all the women joined in laughing at the joke. Food came, and Scotts was a rather small salad which he rapidly devoured. When his plate was empty, the girls were still halfway through theirs, Rebecca called Jane over and said that Scott was ready to pay for his meal. Jane took Scott by the hand, and pulled him to his feet. "This way my sweet sissy," she said, so loudly, he feared everyone in the caf? would hear. He swished after her, as she refused to relinquish his hand, and they swept to the back of the caf? and into the kitchen. Jane rapidly fitted Scott with a pink full length pinafore, tied it tightly and securely at the back, and handed him pink washing up gloves, and pointed him at big sink full of dirty dishes. "Rebecca has told me that you will pay for your food by washing dishes for the afternoon. We finish at five. She says you are in debt to her and the ladies, and have no money to pay for their lunch, despite the fact they expected you to pay for lunch. I think three hours should be enough to cover your salad, so get going sweetie." Scott spluttered a protest but could see it was to no avail, and he could hardly walk out dressed in this long pink pinafore. He surveyed the sink, deep in dirty pots, and began washing. Jane came back after 5 minutes and nodded approvingly at his efforts, as she pulled a mob cap onto his head, the frills falling round his face, making him wince even more at the feminised state he found himself in. He protested he didn't need the frilled mob cap. "Health and Safety, Sweetie," said Jane "have to keep hair under control in the kitchen, we all wear mob caps and anyway, it makes you look like a true pansy plate and pan scrubber, so get scrubbing." Jane was clearly a very forceful woman. She left Scott working hard, and went back into the caf? to the ladies table. "I've got him hard at it in full caf? dress," said Jane smiling at Rebecca. "When you are finished, you girls can scoot off and have some quality shopping time, I'm more than happy to be the husband minder if he behaves like Scott is behaving! Such a good suggestion of yours, Rebecca darling. You can pick him up at five when we close. And I will exercise tight discipline so he doesn't get ideas above his station." "Yes, it does seem to be working out rather well," she replied. Naomi raised an eyebrow, and Rebecca explained that she had planned for Scott to help out in the caf? this afternoon - when she had rung Jane to book the table, Jane had mentioned that her kitchen boy had failed to show up that morning, and she was apologising that service might be a bit slow in the caf?. So Rebecca had offered Scotts services for the afternoon, provided Jane didn't mind encouraging the further feminisation of her sissy boyfriend. "I mentioned that Scott now preferred blouses to shirts, and had a very fetching line in pretty scarves, and he might even be dabbling in skirts," Rebecca giggled, and Naomi and Sally laughed at the slight distortion of the truth. Jane left them to finish, and returned to the kitchen. Scott had worked his way through the sinkful and was drying and putting the pots away, but more kept appearing as Jane and her other waitress cleared tables and delivered food. There was no let up, and Jane kept on offering alternate words of encouragement and admonishment, what a good girl he was at the sink, if he played his cards right, he might get the job of kitchenmaid fulltime, but not if he produced smeary plates, and left lipstick marks on cups, and she teased him unmercifully about his bright pink palazzo pants. "Such a daring choice for a man, but perhaps he wasn't really a man, more a pansy boy, maybe he felt that skirts suited him better than trousers, he certainly wasn't the one wearing the trousers in Rebeccas flat, she was clearly the boss," and so on. Scott just kept his head down and worked, hoping this would bring his work to an early end. In his rush to finish, a cup slipped from his grasp and crashed to the floor, breaking into fragments. Jane came over, looked down at the fragments and hissed "How dare you break my crockery, that's six of the best when you are done this afternoon, I know how to improve sissy boys behaviour, and I won't tolerate sloppiness." Scott gulped and tried to apologise. "I'm so sorry, Jane, it just slipped, I won't let it happen again, I promise." "You make sure it doesn't happen again, young lady," replied Jane, "or there will be consequences....." Why did she call him young lady? Scott pondered as he got stuck into yet more washing up. As the afternoon went on, he watched the clock and wondered what Rebecca was doing. Some shopping trip this had turned out to be. Caught in that wretched charity shop and made to act like a clothes horse, and made to buy all those girly clothes, there was not enough room in the flat for them all, that's for sure, he'd tell Rebecca that, he'd put his foot down and take a stand. And as for working in this caf?, well first and last time, no way was he a kitchen maid, he had more important things to do with his life (he couldn't actually think what these were, but he was sure he wasn't made out to be a maid). As he worked, he noticed a couple of plates with cracks or chips in the rim, so he put these to one side, he knew you shouldn't have such items in a caf?. Come quarter to five, he had finally got on top of the job, and the sink was empty, the china all dried and in the cupboards, and the soggy dish cloths placed in a bin for the laundry. He dried his hands on his apron skirts and turned to Jane to say he had finished. He mentioned the chipped plates. "Hmmm," said Jane. "So that's a broken cup and two of my best plates you have damaged. On the plus side, you have worked off the cost of your lunch, and helped me cover for my missing kitchen boy. Hold out your hands and I'll get you your just deserts. Scott brightened at this, perhaps she meant she was getting him a cake or some other sweet desert? Close your eyes, and wait a moment." Jane went over to the cupboard, as Scott half closed his eyes. She returned with something behind her back, and said ," I said close your eyes, silly," and she took the front of his mob cap and pulled it down so it slid over his eyes. Now he really couldn't see. He felt a hand take his wrist on the left, and second hand take his wrist on the right. This felt odd. Someone else was in the room. Jane winked at Lisa, her cook, and nodded to begin. Lisa took aim and whacked his palm with a wooden spoon. Scott felt the blow and squealed in surprise and pain, and tried to pull away but was held firmly by . "Don't be such a baby," said Jane. Again and again, his hands were smacked with some object, and he couldn't pull away. A total of six blows to each hand were administered. "What do you say, now, sissy boy?" asked Jane, as they set aside the wooden spoons they had used for his chastisement. "I'd like to hear a nice thankyou to Lisa and myself for such mild correction." Scott had tears running down his face, and he was blubbering like a baby. "But wwwhy are you doing this," he sobbed. "Because we want you to learn the value of good behaviour," said Rebecca. She had sneaked back into the caf?. "Now sit down here and we'll soothe your hands." He was guided to a chair, still blinded by the mob cap and sat down. His hands were turned over and placed in a shallow plate containing hand cream. The cool of the cream soothed the stinging in his palms, and he began to recover. "Now just leave your hands there for two minutes, don't fidget," said Rebecca. At Rebeccas nod, Jane then took a bottle of bright pink nail varnish and began to paint Scotts finger nails. He sensed something was happening, but it was not painful, and he just stayed still and welcomed the soothing sensation of the cream. After five minutes, Rebecca picked up his hands and wiped away the cream, and blotted away the moisture to dry his hands. She pulled the mob cap up out of his eyes, and wiped his tears away with a lace handkerchief, handing it to him to allow him to wipe his nose. As he did so, he caught sight of the pink finger nails, and sighed with resignation. What was happening to him? Rebecca was changing his world and he seemed unable to resist. He would speak to her later this evening. This had to stop. He almost stamped a foot, but realised this might be seen as dissent. "Now my lovely Scott," said Rebecca, "I hope you will see the need to apologise to Jane for breaking her cup and chipping her plates. Do it now," and Scott realised this was a key moment in his relationship. He took a deep breath, and much to Rebeccas delight, he took the skirts of his pinafore in his fingers, spread it wide and dipped low, and said "I am so sorry, Jane, for breaking your plates, and apologise for my sloppy behaviour. I will try harder in future." At least that last bit didn't matter, thought Scott, he wouldn't be coming back here in a hurry. "That's perfectly all right, Scott," replied Jane, "you have worked hard and I appreciate your stepping into the breach when my kitchen boy was a no show today. And as Rebecca has asked for my help in improving your domestic skills, I am delighted to accept her offer that you work for me every Saturday as kitchen maid. I'm sure we will get on just swimmingly, and if there is any cause for complaint, well you know where the wooden spoons are kept, and you know how useful they are in catching a lazy girls attention. Rule number one of this caf? kitchen, if you make a mistake, you bring the wooden spoon with you when you come to tell me about it." Scotts heart sank. His life seemed to be spinning out of control. He was even more determined to have this out with Rebecca when they got home. They returned home together. Scott had handed back the pinafore and mob cap to Jane, who thanked him and said she would make sure they are clean and ready for him next Saturday. When they got into the house, Rebecca told him to put the kettle on and make them a drink. "I really think we need to sit down and calmly assess your behaviour today, Scott," she said "it can't carry on like this." Scott grasped this seeming offer of a truce and readily agreed, heading into the kitchen to put the kettle on. "Make us both a sandwich as well, I'm peckish after all that shopping," she said, slipping an apron round his waist and tying it neatly in a double bow at the back. "I'm just going to slip into something more comfortable." Scott busied himself and ten minutes later, he had coffee and a sandwich prepared and he took them into the lounge. Rebecca was already sitting on the sofa, and she was wearing a stunning dark blue satin and lace two piece nightdress and negligee. As he approached he could smell her scent, she smelt wonderful and looked so desirable. He felt his winkie immediately springing to life. He set the drinks down and passed her the sandwich. "You look wonderful, my love," he said, sitting next to her, his apron still adorning his bright pink fullskirted pants. "And so do you, Scott my sweet little one. I do so like your new style of dressing," she replied. She placed her hand on his lap, and fondled his winkie through the apron and silky pants. "And it feels like someone else likes being dressed pretty as well. How naughty you are! Your little winkie must enjoy being encased in his silky panties and flowing skirts." "Oh no, Rebecca, it's you that excites me, you look good enough to eat in your blue satin," he protested. They ate their sandwiches, and Scott tried to bring Rebecca into an embrace, but she held off, saying there was time enough for hanky panky when they had discussed his behaviour and what was to be done about it. "Today, you had the perfect opportunity to meet my friends and impress them with your suitability to become my spouse, but I felt resistance all the time, an unwillingness to take up your half of the deal, to be my support whilst I bring in the money. Its not too much to ask that you keep the flat and our clothes clean and tidy, and cook the meals, is it? I have even offered to pay you, not many housewives get paid. And there have been three offers of training today, in housework, in shop work and in the kitchen, and you seem to be resisting these kind suggestions. Now what have you got to say for yourself?" Scott began to speak. "Rebecca, my love, I do love you so much, and I'm sorry I haven't pleased you today." As he spoke, Rebeccas hand took a firmer grip on his swelling winkie, and she slid her hand back and forth through the silky fabrics, clearly making the poor boy shake with the pleasure. "Is this nice, Scottie baby?" she asked slyly. He ignored her question and plunged onwards. "But I am a man, and will surely return to work soon , and we can get a maid in to do the menial tasks, and both enjoy married life as equaaaaooooowwww!" His speech came to a squeaking end as Rebecca had taken hold of his nuts and squeezed them harder and harder as he progressed. "I beg your pardon? Did you complain about sharing the workload?" she squeezed hard again. "Or did you show that you can take on the role of housemaid as a natural part of our relationship?" she stroked and caressed his winkie, bringing tears of pleasure to his eyes. "Yes, I can do the cleaning till I get a job, but I don't need training eeeaaaggggggghhh," he screamed as his nuts came under pressure again. "This is really rather fun," said Rebecca, alternately squeezing and caressing. "Which do you prefer, squeeze or stroke? Pain or pleasure? A life of boredom, or a life of exciting service?" "No more pain plleeeeaaasseeee," he squealed. "Humph, you sound like a little baby, squealing at the slightest pressure, but I think you said no more pain, so you must be opting for the life of excitement as my romantic and versatile housemaid? Shall I show you what that might involve?" And she stood up, pushing him back onto the sofa, and mounted him kneeling across his body, but facing towards his feet, her satin and lace nightdress draped across his body. She pulled her skirts up a little and inched her way down towards his chest and mouth, and as she did so, she took hold of his winkie and played with it, still hidden away inside his pink palazzo pants and knickers. Her pussy settled on his mouth and she began to grind herself against him, making sure all the time that he was aroused, but not brought to an orgasm. His sighs of pleasure became moans of joy as he disappeared inside her thighs, and he could barely breath as he licked and sucked her pussy and bum crack to his hearts content, he really did enjoy being in this position. She exploded as he worked, and soaked his face with juices, and she then collapsed across his body, his winkie still hard and throbbing. She teased it gently with one finger, but wouldn't let him cum. After a few minutes, she picked herself up, sliding the silk satin skirts of the nightie and wrap from his body, and smiled down at him. "Now, which is to be, little girl, pleasure or pain? Oh, heavens, what could he say, he was in seventh heaven, although he still longed to be allowed release. He dared to ask her to finish him off, or to let him finish himself off. "Tsk tsk, Scott, its not the right time for milking, I want him ready and alert for more pleasure later, if we milk him now, he will be useless later. Don't you agree? My experience is that he wilts very quickly after his little spurtings, and takes days to get back into condition again?" Scott blushed, but knew she was right. He was slow to regain an erection, and if he had been allowed to cum now, he would have lost his sexual desire for the rest of the night. "Yes Rebecca, I know I'm slow to get back hard again. I will be ready later for you," he replied. Rebecca smiled and knew that what she wanted later was not necessarily what Scott expected. "Now run along and wash up the plates and bring me coffee." He did so, and when he returned with coffee for them both, she patted the sofa next to her for him to sit there. "Sit here sweetie, I want to try out some ideas to improve your appearance, the maid must take care of her appearance as much as the Mistress." She had taken out her make up bag and now produced a range of cosmetics. "Keep still, while I see what's to be done." She went to work, applying foundation and blusher and powder, some eye shadow, liner and mascara, and finally a rich dark pink lipstick, telling him to purse his lips to finish the effect. Not bad, she thought, but still a man in skirts. Should I give him hair and finish the boy to girl transformation, or should he remain a feminised man in skirts? Perhaps the latter for now, as this gave her greater control. She pointed to the mirror across the room and suggested he admire himself. Scott crossed to the mirror and saw himself looking strangely ornate in his make-up, the taffeta shirt of his shirtwaister dress and pink scarf over his flowing pink trouser skirts, and the apron still tied tightly in place. "What do you think about the new you, then," she asked. He paused thoughtfully and said "I look like a bald drag queen. Might it be better if I had some hair?" Rebecca was encouraged, he was now asking for further feminisation, but she was not ready to give it. If this is what he wanted, then she would use it as a lever to get him to accept his future role in their relationship. "Well of course you look ridiculous without hair, but I thought you didn't want to become the housemaid? Housemaids look truly feminine in their uniform and must keep their make-up and hair immaculate at all times. We can have such fun keeping you looking pretty, Scott my love, but whilst you are wearing trousers, you remain a man in my eyes, so no hair. If you wear a skirt, then of course we can introduce hair. Lets try it now and see how you look." So she helped Scott remove his flowing pink trousers, and the shirtwaister dress, and she pulled out the peasant style dress that Naomi had chosen for him. She slid the wide frilled and ruffled nylon waist petticoat into place and popped the dress over his head so that it slid down his body and settled into place over the petticoat. The broderie anglaise on the skirt had the appearance of a further petticoat showing below his skirt, and the floral pattern of the dress made for a very feminine style. Scott stood and shivered with a mixture of pleasure and horror at the girlishness of the outfit. Rebecca produced a white full pinafore apron (where had that come from, he thought, it didn't come from the charity shop), and slipped this round his waist, with straps going over his shoulders and criss-crossing at the back, and tied in a big bow at the rear. "Oh my goodness, Scott, but you look gorgeous," gushed Rebecca, determined to encourage his slide into sissyhood. "Now we can try some hair, and she pulled a further unexpected purchase from her bag - a blonde wig in a shoulder length , with the ends flicking up and inwards. She placed this on his head, and combed it out, fussing to make sure it looked just so. She refreshed his lipstick, and gave him a squirt of perfume, and then returned him to the mirror. "There, cupcake, see how beautiful you can look if you really try?" Scott gazed in wonder at himself. He really did look like a girl, and he turned this way and that to see how his hair moved, and to admire his petticoated skirts. His apron was spread wide across the skirts, and almost without thinking, he took the hem of his skirts in two delicate fingers, spread the skirt widely and dipped low, moving one foot behind the other. Rebecca applauded, clapping with enthusiasm at his deep submissive curtsey, and realising that she was winning the battle to bring Scott to heel. She could have herself a servant and a handmaiden to give her the sort of sex she enjoyed, and let her get on developing her career, knowing that the maid would look after the house. Her next move would be to ensure that Scotts compensation payment went into her account, as she didn't want him to break free when the money arrived. She needed to establish his submission, use stick and carrot to train his mind to service, and make sure she had the means to prevent him breaking free - so plenty of compromising pictures and perhaps something physical that he would depend on her for release. She had already been pondering the use of a chastity device for which only she held the key. She beckoned Scott to come and sit on the sofa next to her, and she told him to wait while she got something. She was gone five minutes, and when she returned, she slipped something onto the floor without showing him. She then sat down and told Scott to come and snuggle in her arms, and she manouevered his head to her breasts. She then slid the bodice of her nightdress to one side and pulled her plumptious breast out and steered Scotts kisses to her nipple. He latched on to her nipple with enthusiasm, and soon he was suckling and kissing in a blissful state. Rebecca ran her hand down Scotts floral dress dress reaching the petticoats and slowly pulling them up to expose his pantied peenie, which was hard and thrusting against the nylon and lace. She took his little toy in her hand through the fabric and began to play with him, teasing and tugging and stroking and squeezing. Scott felt himself coming closer and closer to a climax, and Rebecca encouraged this, whispering in his ear that he was such a good girl, and good girls needed to be milked regularly, and she was his loving Mistress and would be his milk maid as well, always making sure she had relieved of his milk burden, and replaced it with more milk. His cum burst from his little tool as her stroking and squeezing increased and he whimpered with joy as he shuddered to a climax. Rebecca continued the gentle squeezing and milking to make sue Scott was empty. She whispered gently to him, how pretty he was, how nice it was for him to give up his milk, and he dozed into a dreamy state. As he did so, Rebecca reached down and took hold of a bottle of baby milk, in a bottle with a fat teat, which she eased slowly into his mouth , and began to gently squeeze the bottle to express the milk into his lips. He was too far gone to know what was happening, and took the milk, which contained both a laxative and a sleeping draught. When the bottle was empty, Scott was sound asleep and out for the count. Rebecca shifted his weight onto the sofa, and stood up. She pulled Scotts skirts and petticoats up to reveal his pantied bottom and then proceeded to strip him of panties, using them to wipe him clean of all his cum. She then fetched a box containing a chastity device, and with some thought, was able to fit this to his wilted winkie and balls, making the CB6000 secure and locked with a padlock for which only she had the key. She then fetched a disposable nappy and slid this under his bum, and strapped it firmly in place. She added plastic panties to stop leaks, and pulled his skirts and petticoats back down to cover his nether regions. And she placed a blanket over him to keep him warm, whilst she went to bed and slept the sleep of a happy woman. Scott awoke in the morning on the sofa, and slowly came to. He felt very odd, cold around his bum, warm up above. His hands delved down to his skirts and floundered their way through petticoats and layers of soft frills until they found the plastic panties. What on earth was this? And why did his winkie feel so odd, there was some contraption wrapped around it. And as he came to life, he could sense that he had wet himself and even pooed in his knickers. Of god, how had he managed to lose control so badly, had he been so drunk? Then he realised he had not been drunk at all, but was nevertheless in a state of total loss of control. He could hear Rebecca in the kitchen. He didn't understand how he could have wet himself, and decided to sneak into the bathroom and strip off before she found out. It was not to be though, he was halfway across the room, and she came out of the kitchen with her coffee, and bizarrely a baby bottle containing milk. "And where do you think you're going?" He stopped in his tracks. "Just to the loo," he replied, as she caught him yet again in a painful pinch grip on his ear and led him back to the sofa. "Sit there, you big baby, and explain to me why you have wet and pooped yourself. I know whats happened, I can smell it a mile off." Scott tried to splutter a reason why he might have wet himself, but he was cut short. "Listen, young lady," said Rebecca, who seemed to be referring to him more and more often in the female form "I had to put you in nappies last night as you were clearly falling asleep on me after I gave your winkie such a treat, and I knew you wouldn't last the night without wetting yourself. I have also taken the precaution of adding a rather sweet device to your winkie so there is no unauthorised playtime. With your new role in life, I won't be around all the time to make sure you behave, and I don't want you playing with yourself, or presenting a risk of lewdness to any of my friends when you are working for them." Scott tried to interrupt but was hushed by Rebecca, who slipped an oversized babies dummy into his mouth to emphasise her command. She was in charge now, and was going to brook no arguments. "I am disappointed that you lost control of your bowels last night, and it seems the nappy was a wise precaution. We will continue with nappies this weekend until you show me you can stay dry. I hope by tomorrow, when I go to work, you will have got a better grip on yourself!" She produced a towel and instructed Scott to lie down and be changed. He did so, and was so relieved to have the messy nappy removed from his groin. She cleaned him up efficiently with baby wipes, and ensured his chastity device was clean. She explained to him about the need for control, and showed him how the tube prevented erections, and the rings held the device in place tightly around his ball sac. She applied Vaseline to prevent nappy rash, and powder before fitting him with a clean disposable and fresh plastic panties. She talked all the time to him about how he was so lucky to have someone to take care of him, and how he must repay the kindness by absolute obedience and hard work in his new life. Scott listened and gurgled through the dummy, not daring to spit it out. He was dismayed at his descent into sissyness. He was not sure how to escape. He decided to go with the flow for the day, and think it through further that night. It was Sunday, so it would be a quiet day. With clean nappy in place, and skirts and petticoats drawn back down, Scott was told to sit on the sofa, and Rebecca proceeded to cradle him once more against her breast and feed him his milk. She wanted him to know that if he behaved, there would be intimate moments of pleasure. If he misbehaved, she wanted him to know there would be tense moments of pain as he received correction for any misdemeanours. Today would be a make or break day for Scott. If he survived her demands today, she felt he would be her sissymaid for life. The milk this time contained no additives, just baby milk, and she wanted him to associate being milked himself with his taking of baby milk - sexual relief would come when he completely gave up any thoughts of control, and submitted to her requirements and dominance. After she had finished his feed, she popped the dummy back into place, and told him to stand in front of her and curtsey. He did so meekly. "Now, Scott, my love. I hope you enjoyed your breakfast. I have not had mine yet. I'd like two poached eggs on toast, and cafetiere of fresh coffee. Your dummy will remain in place all day, as I see no reason for you to have anything to say, your first day in your new job will be a day of absolute obedience. Do you understand?" He nodded, and even curtseyed. Rebecca smiled. "Good girl, now be about your chores, and put a proper apron on, there are two hanging in the kitchen." Scott returned after 15 minutes with her breakfast on a tray, and served it to her at the dining table. He was now wearing the full bibbed white befrilled pinafore apron she had given him the evening before. She smiled with satisfaction, but nevertheless asked him to bring a fresh slice of toast as one of the two was a little overdone. He curtseyed and took the offending piece away. He busied himself in the kitchen clearing the surfaces and washing up the pots, and took a new slice of toast to Rebecca as she drank her coffee. She was composing a list. "This is your job list for today, Scott. I am not going to watch over you, I expect you to get on and finish everything on the list. At 6pm tonight, we will go through the list to check if you have achieved the work satisfactorily. There will be a need for correction for anything substandard, and I will decide what form the correction will take. If things are done well, there will be a milking time for your little peenie. Now get on with it," she finished as she handed him the list. In his confusion as to what was on the list, he forgot to curtsey, but began to speak by ejecting his dummy. "Excuse me," said Rebecca sharply, "did I give you permission to speak or remove your dummy?" He looked down and shook his head. Rebecca cut two lengths of ribbon from her sewing basket, and tied the ribbon through the dummy, and fixed it firmly back in his mouth, tying it in place with a big bow at the back of his neck. "Now, what do you do before leaving my presence?" Scott curtseyed prettily in his flowery skirts, petticoat and apron, and turned to get on with the list. The first item was for him to wash the make-up from his face thoroughly. He had lost his wig sometime during the night, and the second item was for him to comb out his wig and place it in a net for future use. He was conscious again that he was now a man in skirts undertaking the housework, and every time he caught sight of himself in a mirror he felt embarrassed to see his image, dummy in mouth, so sissified. The day passed in a blur for Scott, he had a long list, and he was determined to get it finished to show Rebeccca that he was able to manage the workload (why was he trying to prove he was a good housemaid? It was kind of weird the thoughts running through his mind). He made her a light salad for lunch and served it gracefully and with due deference. He was then allowed a salad himself, but this was washed down with another bottle of the sickly sweet baby milk. He had managed to avoid wetting his nappy, but was getting pretty desperate to go by mid afternoon, and he approached Rebecca and with beseeching eyes, pointed to his groin and then to the bathroom door. She smiled, and told Scott to wet his nappy now, and she would then change him. She stared him hard in the eye, almost challenging him to disobey. He didn't want to wet himself, but he had to go, and if this was the only option.... He relaxed and sensed the stream of wee filling his nappy, and Rebecca heard the rush of liquid and smiled. "Well done, baby, what a good little girl to fill her nappy when I say so. I'll change you in an hour if you have finished all your tasks. Get on with work now." And she dismissed him. Scott curtseyed, his heart sank as he felt the soggy nappy squelch in his plastic panties. The chastity cage also clung to his peenie, and he knew he was in a tangled web, physically and mentally, and not sure if there was a way out. Everything he did was sinking him deeper into her control. She had even been going round taking photographs of him doing the chores today, catching him unawares as he changed the bed, cleaned the toilet, ironed her blouses. And all the photos were of Scott wearing flowing skirts and pinafore. If only he looked like a woman, they couldn't be used as blackmail then, as no-one would recognise him. But as it was, they were clearly going to be pictures of Scott the man, in full pretty girlie dress and petticoats and big white maids pinafore. Everyone who saw them would laugh and mock him for his submission to the female sex. It was just after 6 when Scott felt he could tick off the last item on the list, and he presented himself to Rebecca who was lying on the sofa reading a book and drinking the coffee he had made for her a short while ago. She looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Finished, my sissy maid?" she enquired. "yeth mish," he mumbled through the dummy which was still tied firmly in place. He curtseyed as he spoke. His body ached from his efforts, and he felt a true nappy rash developing as he was still in his wet nappy, and had not been able to convince Rebecca that he deserved to be changed. "Kneel down here beside me, and show me your list." She reached behind his neck and untied the dummy, the teat slipping out of his lips with almost a reluctant pop. She smiled sweetly at him, and spoke words of comfort. "There my ickle baby Scotty, has she worked hard for Mummy today? Has she done all her jobs? I hope so, because I know she wants a change of nap nap, and she won't be able to have one if she still has work to do, now will she?" Scott gulped and handed her the list. He had ticked off each task meticulously. She could see this and she smiled. "I see you have ticked off 'ironing' here, my sweet sissy maid. But I also see that there is some ironing remaining to be done on the back of the armchair." He pointed to the chair across of the room, and Scott blanched. There were all the clothes he had brought back from the Charity Shop yesterday. He had not even considered them as they had been still in bags when he last saw them. "I'm sorry, Rebecca," he mumbled with dismay, "it didn't say that that was part of the task." "Hmmm, and that is exactly the reason why you need training, my little skivvy. Because its not just a list, its an expectation that the housemaid knows everything which needs to be done, and doesn't stop doing them until she has finished. This is not about lists, its about making sure the flat is immaculate at all times, the washing and ironing is always up to date, the meals are on the table when I want them, and any other work needed to be done is done. Do you understand?" "Yes, Miss, I understand and I'm very sorry," said Scott contritely. "I just need time to get used to the work and the role. Please forgive me, I promise to try harder." Scott almost fell over himself to appease her, and she felt he was really coming to grips with the prospect of being the maid. She was sure there would be reversals, but she was pleased at his absolute submission to her demands today. "OK young lady, I think we understand each other. On that basis, I think its time to remove your soggy nappy. Do you need another one? I give you the choice, as the nappy is part of your life in future if you fail to satisfy me as the housemaid. Will you be giving our new relationship your best efforts tomorrow when I am at work? If you absolutely promise to do so, I will suspend nappies for now. And it may be another milking time as advance reward for your efforts." Scott grasped her hands and pleaded with her to remove his nappy and leave him free of them, he would try so hard all week, never mind tomorrow. He promised and promised, and Rebecca accepted, knowing full well there would be failings, but she could cope with these, as long as they were going in the right direction. She hugged him and kissed him, and then instructed him to fetch a bucket and lay out a towel. As he stood, she stripped him of his dress and lingerie, running her hands over his body, tweaking his nipples, and fondling his caged peenie through his nappy. She told him to lie back on the towel for his nappy removal. He did so. He tried to talk but was stopped by the insertion of the dummy. "Hush, sissy, I haven't given you permission to speak." She pulled the plastic panties down his legs and removed his disposable nappy, dripping with pee, she wrinkled her nose and put it in the bucket. She then sent him off to the shower to freshen up, and told him to put on the items laid out on the spare bed. He showered, washing the smell of pee from his body, and trying to enliven his peenie, but it was too tightly held. He went to the spare bed, and saw a pretty lemon coloured nightdress in an old-fashioned 60s style, two layers of nylon, frills at the hem and bustline, and a matching peignoir. He slipped into them with a shiver of excitement and returned to the lounge. Rebecca gushed her approval. "Scott my pretty one, you look so lovely in that outfit, the colours of a true pansy, and soooo sexy, I can feel myself getting excited at the thought of you making love to me in such a sensual confection. Now come here, and lie yourself down over my lap. Face down, theres a good girl, I have a special treat for you, no fussing." He did as he was told, and as he lay down across her she placed a satin scarf in her lap, and she positioned his caged peenie into the centre of the scarf. He settled down with his bottom raised, and felt her slide his skirts up his back to expose his bare bottom. "Now my love, just a short punishment for failing to complete the ironing, and then some pleasure. Is that agreeable?" He couldn't answer easily because of his dummy, and before he could spit it out, she continued "silence must be a yes, which was the only sensible answer anyway." She then spanked his bare bottom with her hand, firmly, regularly, alternate cheeks, and the cheeks began to burn red. After 50 spanks, she stopped. "Golly, that was tiring, I'll have to find an alternative means of administering correction, my arm is quite tired and my hand sore." Scott had been squealing for the last twenty strokes, and wanted to say she should feel his bum if she wanted to know what sore was like, but he resisted, he knew she had said there would be pleasure to follow. And he longed for release. He made to rise, but she held him firmly in place with one hand, and the other reached down beside her for something. "Stay still, sweetgums," she said firmly, as she began to massage his sore red bum with cold cream. It was soothing and she worked it widely across his bum and upper thighs where the spanking had spread the redness widely. She even worked a well creamed finger into his rosebud of a bum, easing it back and forth and sending tingles up his spine. Her finger withdrew, and he felt something different entering. He could not see, but she held a long narrow curved metal device with enlarged end, it was sort of S shaped, and she slid this easily into his passage, with gentle back and forth motion. He moaned with a mixture of surprise, consternation and pleasure as the device massaged its way into his body, until it reached some deep point where all of a sudden he began to feel strong sensations in his caged peenie, almost like he needed to wee. As she massaged, the seeming urge to wee increased, and Scott began to plead with her to stop as he would wet himself. She ignored his please and continued massaging his prostate gland, she knew exactly what she was achieving and she slid her spare hand under his tummy to feel his peenie. Where it protruded from the end of the cage, it was oozing cum very slowly, and as she massaged she milked more and more cum from him, and he squealed more loudly that he would pee, but he didn't and his cries reduced she finished his milking, and he lay groaning, not understanding what had happened. "There, sweetheart, your first proper milking, did you enjoy it? Its just perfect that we can milk you without uncaging you, and then you are ready to give me my pleasure without that naughty peenie of yours getting into trouble. Now get off my lap, kneel before me and put your mouth to work on giving me a little pleasure. After all, its only fair that I have my fun as well." He slid off her and knelt before her. She raised her skirts and commanded that he pull down her pretty panties with his teeth, as she raised herself to allow them to slide off. Panties discarded, his mouth and nose came closer to her pussy and she grabbed his head, holding him by the hair, and pulled his face deep into her crotch. "Lick and suck, baby, until I say stop," she commanded, and he obeyed. And she took her pleasure for the next hour, reaching more than one shattering orgasm as her devoted new maid went about one of his most intimate and demanding duties. Monday morning, another week, and Rebecca was getting ready to go to work. She had laid out Scotts work clothes for the day - as she said, he had to be properly dressed for work as well as her. And he would have to make sure that from now on, her clothes were washed and ironed and laid out ready for her each day, and there would be no excuses. Shoes must be polished, and all else ready. He dressed in his allocated clothes. He pulled a tight panty corselette girdle up his body, realising that the crotch had studs which he could undo to allow him to go to the toilet. Rebecca admonished him for fiddling with them, and told him they must be secured at all times except for toilet use. His caged peenie was held tightly in, and he knew there would be no getting excited down there today. The bra of the corselette was tight and plumped up his chest into two small feminine mounds. He attached stockings to the suspender tabs, drew on a full length slip, a tight knee-length skirt and white blouse which fastened at the throat in big pink satin pussy bow. Court shoes with 2 inch heels. He was not allowed any hair, or make-up. A pretty frilled pinafore was handed over, along with a mob cap. She had prepared another list for him, and reminded him that she was expecting a parcel which would need signing for. On no account was he to miss that. And they also needed some basic supplies fetching from the local shop, milk, bread, eggs etc, and he should do this after lunch so he didn't miss the postman. He tried to protest that he couldn't go out dressed like this, and her stare froze him. "You will fetch the shopping and no nonsense, girl. If you don't want people to see your pretty uniform, wear one of my coats. And no sneaking around without your pinny on, either." And with a flurry of action, she swept out of the flat to work. Scott ate a bowl of muesli with fruit (the list even listed out his meals), and set to on the list. He made good progress in the morning, but the doorbell rang eventually, and he went to the intercom. It was the postman, and he asked him just to leave the parcel. No deal, said the postman, has to be signed for, I'm downstairs in the lobby. Scott paled, but knew he had to get the parcel. He took a deep breath, pulled his pinny off, and slid into one of Rebeccas long coats. He went out of the flat leaving the door ajar, everything was quiet, and ran to the lift and headed down to the lobby. H stepped out of the lift, and ignored the postmans gasp of surprise, as his coat fell open revealing his pink satin bow blouse and skirts. "Like your dress, mate, and your hat," he said, smirking. Scott flushed realising he had forgotten to remove his mob cap. He grabbed it a pulled it off. "Just sign here, miss or mister is it?" Scott signed, grabbed the parcel and fled to the lift. He could hear the postmans laughter ringing in his ears. The lift had gone down to the basement and was now coming back up again. He didn't hesitate as the doors opened, he was too busy trying to flee the lobby, and he stepped in to the arms of a very pretty but large lady, who pressed the close button before he could back out. "Well, what have we got here then?" she asked with a big smile on her face. "A pretty pansy boy in his skirts and heels? I think you are Scott from 36, aren't you? I'm Amanda from 42. Rebecca and I sometimes have a gossip, and she has mentioned that you are becoming the househusband. Seems like it's the housewife, never mind husband. Does she know you are stealing her frillies on the quiet?" Scott protested. "I'm not stealing her clothes, these are my clothes. That is, Rebecca has asked me to dress in a manner appropriate to doing the housework, these are just the uniform." It all sounded rather feeble, but the woman didn't seem fazed. "Nothing wrong with being the housewife duckie, that was my role in life until my husband walked out, I wish I had a nice maid to do my housework, I can tell you. They reached the third floor, and the doors opened. Scott stood back to let her exit first, and she did so, but stood in the corridor blocking his way back to his flat. "Come with me and you can make me a nice cuppa," she invited smiling at the sissified man. "Thankyou, but no thanks," he replied, "I've still got work to do, and I have to go out shopping as well." She smiled even more broadly, but then took his arm and said "that wasn't an invitation, sweetie, it was an instruction. Now this way, and no arguments please, or I shall be telling Rebecca about how you tried to molest me in the lift." She frog- marched him down the hall, and into her flat, where she led him to the kitchen. He put the parcel down on the table, and she helped him take the coat off. She stood back and looked at the full extent of his "uniform." She noticed the mob cap still in his hand. "Well flower, that's very pretty outfit, you just need an apron to finish off. And put your mob cap back on." She then took a full length floral pinafore from a hook on the wall, and slipped the loop over his head, and tied the ties at the back tightly and securely. She adjusted the frilled mob cap so it framed his face, emphasising his girlishness. She pointed out kettle, tea, sugar, milk, teapot and cups, and told him to bring through tea as soon as the kettle had boiled. He made tea, put everything on a tray and went through the door she had disappeared through. It was a living room, and she was sitting on the sofa with a coffee table in front of her. He placed the tray on the table as she patted the seat next to her, and he sat as she suggested. "Smooth your skirts as you sit down, young lady," she admonished, and Scott blushed. "I can see Rebecca has a challenge ahead of her if she wants a good housemaid! But I think I can help. After we've had our tea, you will take me to your flat and show me what you have been up to. I have very high standards, and I hope your work is up to standard." "But I have to go out and get some shopping," protested Scott, thinking this might divert Amanda from her plan. "No problem, we can go and do the shopping together. It will give you the chance to show off your pretty uniform, that will be fun, won't it?" Scott winced, and pondered how much fun it would be going out shopping with her. He would insist on removing his pinny and mob cap, and he would also demand a full length coat, he could pretend he was wearing shorts below the coat, and people might not realise he was in skirts. "First you will show me the flat and what you claim to have been doing by way of housework," she announced firmly. And this is what they did. When they had finished their tea, Scott was instructed to take the tea tray and china back to the kitchen, and wash them clean. He then led the way to his flat, still in her apron, leaving his coat in her flat, and they entered the flat together. He showed her his list for the day, and then what he had completed, and how he needed to get the shopping otherwise Rebecca would be cross. Amanda inspected with exaggerated care, tutting occasionally as she wiped her finger along surfaces seemingly finding dust, and sighing when she saw the ironing he had been doing. "I think you're going to have improve your standards to satisfy Rebecca. After all, she deserves her housework being done well, doesn't she?" Scott nodded dumbly, he didn't know what to say. "I will come round and see Rebecca tonight - I have a wonderful suggestion to help improve your service!" Scott blanched, not another woman wanting to interfere with his life, this was getting ridiculous! "Shopping time now," said Amanda, "do you have a basket or bag?" Scott fetched a wicker basket from the kitchen, and the purse that Rebecca had left with just enough money to buy the necessities. They walked out of the flat, and Scott paused to lock the door. Amanda stood by the lift blocking the way to no 42. "Errr excuse me, where are you going?" she inquired as Scott tried to squeeze past her. "I need to put your apron away and get my coat," replied Scott, but Amanda was having none of it. "It's a warm day, you don't need a coat, and your pinny and cap look very nice on, so just get in the lift," she commanded, as the lift arrived and the doors opened. She almost bundled Scott into the lift - she was a strong woman, and Scott felt helpless to resist. He shivered at the prospect of being taken outside to the shops in his pretty blouse with the pink bow at his throat (at least it covered his scar), skirts and floral pinafore. And the mob cap was just too much to bear. He was obviously a man from the neck up, and clearly dressed in stupid skirts and blouse down below. Oh how he hated the position he found himself in, if only he could disguise himself completely as a woman, it might not be so bad. They stepped out onto the street, Amanda having taken Scotts arm and linked with hers so he was in no doubt that they were walking out together. Not quite frog-marched, but if he didn't keep up, he feared she would be dragging him along. He took a deep breath and walked along in time with her. They went round the corner and his appearance was already causing some second looks and amusement. Two workmen on a building site looked down from the scaffolding and wolf-whistled, calling to Scott. He ignored them. A group of teenage girls came past, and as they slowly realised that he was a man in skirts and a frilly mob cap, they broke out into giggles, and made comments "pretty pinny, mate.... My mums looking for a maid, do you want a job?....love the legs, shame about the face...wheres yer feather duster...." And they walked on, the voices fading in the distance. Scott and Amanda came to the supermarket, and Scott produced his list, and Amanda insisted he carry the basket and do the choosing, but checked everything he bought against his list. The aproned sissy could hear the other customers doing second takes and one asked Amanda if he was dressed as a joke. "No," she replied, "this is his normal housemaid uniform, do you think it suits him?" "Oooh yes," came the reply, "I wish I could get my fella in skirts and doing the housework, that would be wonderful." They got to the end of the list, and Scott was confident he had enough money in the purse to pay. Amanda had other plans. She steered him to the aisle with feminine hygiene products, and ignored Scotts protests that he didn't need anything here. In a loud voice, Amanda asked him if he used a particular brand of pantypads, and whether he had heavyflow or not. He tried to hush her, and found he could only do so by agreeing to add a packet of heavyflow sanitary pads to his basket. They headed for the checkout, and Scott loaded the purchases onto the conveyor. The checkout girl chatted merrily to Amanda, asking all the normal questions about packing, but she replied that her maid was doing the shopping, and she should address her questions to the maid. The girl giggled, and asked Scott if "the maid" needed any help with packing. Would the maid need any bags today? Scott mumbled a surly, "No thanks," and Amanda reprimanded him, telling him to speak nicely to the lady, speak up, and curtsey when spoken to. He thanked her but declined her offers and blushing furiously, took his skirts and dipped a curtsey. The girl burst out laughing at the site of this man in skirts and pink bow scarf and pinafore, curtseying to her. She would enjoy telling her friends about this customer! She totalled the goods, and asked for ?12.75, and Scott knew he only had ?11. He asked Amanda if he could borrow the difference, and she made great play about him exceeding his budget by asking for the sanitary pads. He protested that it was her that had chosen the pads, and she asked him loudly if he wanted to have an argument about his sanitary pads in public? Surely this was something a sensible sissy maid should keep to herself? Did she really want the whole shop to know she needed sanitary pads to keep her panties clean? "Sssshhh please," begged Scott, "I'm sorry I implied it was your fault, I'll pay you as soon as we are back, please can we pay and get out of here?" The queue behind was growing, and Amanda relented, apologising to the rest of the queue that her maid doesn't usually throw tantrums, it must be the time of month, which brought an outburst of amusement from two women and a man who were waiting their turn. Scott packed his bags, and they left, and Amanda once again took Scott in a firm grip as she linked arms, and they walked back towards the flat. They came to a shop, where all of a sudden, Amanda veered into the doorway and Scott found himself in Claires Accessories - a shop which sold mainly pink things for younger girls. "What are we doing in here," asked Scott, as two little girls could be heard asking their mother why the man was wearing a dress and apron to the shops? "I wanted to buy you a little gift, as a token of my admiration for the way you are taking to the housemaid role," she replied. And she browsed the shelves, eventually choosing an Alice band made of pink lace, ribbons and feathers - rather like a maids cap but more decorative. It was a clip-on and she lighted upon it with glee. "Just the thing," she cried, and removed the mob cap and placed the Alice band on Scotts head to make sure it fitted. It was a little tight but the spring of the band was enough to keep it in place - he looked like such a nancy, she thought to herself. Just what she wanted. "You look so sweet in that, my dear," she gushed, and hurried him to the checkout counter to pay. She took it off his head, and passed it to the girl, and paid. As the girl went to put it in a bag, Amanda stopped her and said, "The maid will wear it now, she is dying to complete her uniform." And the band was fitted to Scotts head, and fussed with to position it correctly. The girl admired and mocked the man in skirts and apron who was now about to leave the shop wearing a pink lace Alice band. Scott was instructed to curtsey and thank the girl for selling him such a nice addition to his maid uniform. And he did so, almost in tears with the humiliation he was undergoing. They returned to her flat, and Scott was given his coat back, and she retrieved her pinafore, and dispatched him home in his Alice band to finish his chores. How glad he was to be free of her. He would never speak to her again. He took off the Alice band and hid at the back of his drawers, and stuffed the sanitary pads in there as well. Pantypds indeed, he had no need of such stuff. By 6pm, he had pretty much finished his duties, and the flat was looking spotless. Rebecca sailed in shortly thereafter, and complemented him on his efforts. She asked if he had had a good day, and did the shopping go ok. He replied non-commitally, and just said everything had been ok. She confirmed his suggestions for supper, but almost casually asked him to make enough for three, they had a guest coming. When he asked who, she told him to mind his own business, but to change into a clean skirt and blouse, and make sure his pinny was clean and his mob cap was in place. He prepared supper, and set the table for three, pondering who might be coming. Rebecca pointed out to him that they only had one guest coming, and he was the maid, so they only needed two table settings. Rebecca asked him to join her in the lounge and asked him if he had anything he should tell her about the day which he was worried about or ashamed about. She was giving him the chance to be open. He still shrugged and said there was nothing. "Right young lady, if that's what you say, go into the front hall and wait for the doorbell to ring, then answer the door and bring our guest in here. Make sure you greet her appropriately as well." Rebecca followed him into the hall, directed that he stand with his nose pressed against the wall, and she placed his apron skirt between the wall and his nose. "Keep it there until the doorbell goes, it must not drop." Well, he might have guessed. He stood in this ridiculous position holding his apron skirt to the wall with his nose, and five minutes later, the bell rang. He stood back, and answered the door to see Amanda facing him. His heart sank. He dropped a deep curtsey, and welcomed her, and stood back to usher her into the lounge. Amanda was greeted by Rebecca as a long lost friend, and they hugged and kissed cheeks and sat down. Scott asked if they would like drinks, and they asked him to open a bottle of white wine. He did so, and as he brought in their drinks, Rebecca told him that he should go back to the kitchen, put the food to keep warm and wash up the pans before returning to join them for a "discussion." He returned, curtseyed and stood before the two ladies. "Have you anything to say about your behaviour today, Scott?" asked Rebecca. Scott broke out in a sweat, and couldn't think what to say. "Well, I was surprised to meet Amanda and not prepared for her to take me shopping....and she did add things to my basket which I couldn't afford, and I owe her for them still....but I tried to be good..." He tailed away, looking down at his shoes, his girly shoes. Rebecca looked severe. That's not quite a true picture of the day, is it, Scott?" she queried. "By my estimation, it has been a catalogue of disobedience and misbehaviour, of lewd behaviour in front of members of the public, and of rank ungratefulness for the kindnesses shown to you by Amanda. I am so ashamed of you, and we have decided to correct your behaviour over the coming months. From now on, Amanda will supervise you whenever you are at home working, and I am not present. That's not to say that she will be tied to your apron strings. She may require you to spend time in her flat if you are done here, and you will obey her absolutely and at all times. I only want to hear good things about you from her, else there will be retribution. And if you don't understand what I mean by that, we are going to show you now." Scott was instructed to pull the armchair out from the wall, and then kneel in the seat with his arms over the back. The two women took a wrist each and quickly slipped a loop of rope over and tightened it on a slip-knot, and then reached down and tied the rope off to the caster of the chair. Then a further loop was slipped over each ankle and tied to the front casters. Scott was helpless, and he felt his skirts being raised and pinned up his back, and his panties being lowered to bare his bum cheeks. And so the correction time began. "For disobeying Amanda on a number of occasions - 5 with the paddle." And these were duly delivered, with Scott yelping like a little baby. "Too much noise, I think," said Rebecca. She removed her own panties and stuffed these in Scotts mouth and then secured them in place with one of his satin scarves. "For trying to go out without his pinafore, ten with the crop." And they took turns to administer the ten strokes, choosing different places to spread the rosy glow building in his buttocks. "For not curtseying when in the presence of ladies, ten with the paddle." Scott was squealing through his gag and tears were pouring down his cheeks by the end of a further ten with the paddle, most administered to his thighs. He was trying to beg for an end to the correction, but the ladies decided one more round with the crop was needed for Scotts churlish behaviour when given the pink Alice band. "Ten with the crop for not appreciating his present." He was left tied to the chair and sobbing at the end of correction time, and the ladies refilled their wine glasses, commenting that the maid was being very slack today. They finally released him after 20 minutes conversation during which he was ignored, but he was the focus of the conversation, and removed his gag and asked him what he had to say. Remarkably, he had the sense to know he must curtsey before he spoke, and he did, in a rather wobbly fashion. He then apologised from bottom of his heart for his failings, and promised to try harder and be good. Rebecca smiled. She was so pleased that Amanda had joined her team of sissy trainers. Scott had a busy week coming up, and Amanda filled the gap in her control plans beautifully. And she was also a new friend with a similar viewpoint on life. It's a shame more men were not turned into sissy servants for the benefit of their women.