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The Unspoken Arrangement, Ch1: A Change In Conditions free porn video
CHAPTER 1
A Change in Conditions
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A wife catches her husband tidying house as a French Maid
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She knew her husband liked cleaning the house when she was out. She
suspected that he liked to dress up as a maid to do it, because she had
come home early once and caught him scurrying away with a broom and a
dustpan. All she saw was a flash of white bow and black dress before he
was out of sight down the basement stairs. The house had been tidied, and
she noticed that the curtains were drawn. He emerged a few minutes later
dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. When she asked if she had just seen him
in a dress, he started to apologize, explaining that he sometimes liked
to wear one while he cleaned the house, but kept it secret because he
didn't want to hurt her.
"Do you think your deceit doesn't hurt me?" she had protested angrily.
She made it very clear that the thought of him wearing ladies' clothes
behind her back bothered her, and she would have to re-think their
relationship. She didn't mention the white satin bow she had glimpsed.
After that, they never spoke about the incident. Her husband never
reached out to discuss his cross-dressing, and she preferred to avoid the
subject. But she couldn't help noticing that whenever she left him alone
for a while, she would come back to find he had been cleaning the house.
The curtains were often rearranged slightly, and she guessed he was
closing them so he could mince around pretending to be a maid. Flashbacks
to the sight of him in his black dress and white apron began to trouble
her. It occurred to her that under the dress, he was probably wearing
panties. Haunted by such images, she could no longer bring herself to
make love, even though they shared the same bed.
At least she didn't mind the cleaning he was doing. It was far from
perfect, but it helped, so every couple of weeks she would go out for a
few hours, saying only "I won't be back for a while." This was always the
trigger for him to clean the kitchen, tidy their bedroom, scrub the
bathrooms, or whatever he thought he had time for. Sometimes when he did
a laundry, he would even wash her underwear by hand; she could catch the
fragrance of a soap for delicates she kept near the washing machine.
Unfortunately, the work wasn't always up to her standards. He would dust
a room and then not vacuum, or clean the kitchen and fail to scrub the
sink, and he never washed the floors. As an actual maid, he was less than
ideal. But when she mentioned his imperfect housework, he said he cleaned
best when she was out of the house, and if he knew how long she would be
out, he could plan better. "It's just like any cleaner," he told her.
"You go out for three or four hours and let them do their work."
So every few weeks, she would line up several outings on a single day so
she'd have things to do while he cleaned and scrubbed. But before long,
she began to tire of finding ways to occupy herself so that her husband
could dress up in a maid's uniform as soon as she left, and then mince
about with a feather duster or whatever he did for his half-assed
housework, and then probably jerk off before she got home. She found
herself resenting this part of their arrangement, and finally she decided
she wanted to do as she liked and still have him cleaning, and this time
doing it properly. She would be able to come and go as she pleased, while
he could wear a maid's uniform all week, if that's what it took to clean
house to her standards.
She began researching his hobby on the Internet, and was intrigued by
what she found. It seemed all kinds of men liked to dress up as maids and
perform services for their wives or girlfriends. "Sissy maids," they were
called. Turning her husband into a real, hard-working, and obedient
housemaid was a simple matter of using his fantasies.
She decided to do it by the book, planning her approach based on dozens
of stories about men being turned into sissy maids. As she read the
erotic tales of husbands and boyfriends submitting to abasement and
humiliation, waiting on the orders of their women, cleaning their houses,
serving their dinners, and then licking their pussies or sucking their
boyfriend's cocks, all while mincing around in panties as their maids,
she began to wonder what kind of spineless, subservient wimp she had
married. Her growing contempt for her husband mingled with an unexpected
arousal at the scenes of power and control in the literature. As she read
about men on their knees, humbled and submissive, fearful of punishment,
ready to please, wearing a maid's uniform as a display of their position,
she found herself squirming in her seat. One day, as she was reading
about a cuckold in his best maid's dress dropping to his knees to blow
his Mistress' lover, she began touching herself. She became drawn to the
idea of making her husband feel his humiliation, most excruciatingly. If
he wanted to be a maid, she could certainly make him the kind who truly
served and obeyed.
One day, after suitable preparations, she went out "for a while,"
triggering him to dress up and clean, but after an hour or so she
returned home without warning. As she quietly let herself in the back
door, she could hear the whir of the vacuum cleaner. She followed the
sound into the living room, and noticed he had drawn the curtains. Sure
enough, he was dressed in a cheap French Maid Hallowe'en costume.
She took in his outfit. He was wearing a short black cotton dress, with
short puffed sleeves. Every opening was adorned with frills of white
lace. On his head was a matching headband. Around his neck was a matching
collar. On his wrists were matching lace cuffs. His white satin apron was
tied in a neat bow at the back. A white petticoat and black nylon panties
peeked from under his dress. He wore garters and stockings, and on his
feet were black patent pumps with three-inch heels.
In the half-light of the sheers, he was vacuuming under the coffee table
with his back turned to her, his behind wiggling provocatively. He looked
surprisingly feminine. The heels were making marks in the carpet. She
watched him vacuum backwards away from the table, carefully erasing the
marks as he wiggled his shiny black panties.
She cleared her throat. He jumped to attention and looked around at her,
eyes wide with fear. Turning the vacuum cleaner off, he began, "Oh my
God, Honey, I'm so sorry..."
"Don't 'Honey' me, you pervert," she cut him off sharply. "It took me
long enough, but I finally figured it out. You're what they call a 'sissy
maid,' aren't you?"
"No, I... wait, just let me explain," he pleaded.
She countered impatiently, "What's to explain? Isn't that a maid costume
you're wearing?"
"Yes," he admitted.
"And aren't you doing housework?"
"Yes, but..."
"So you're a man in a maid's outfit doing housework?"
"Yes, but..." he protested.
"And doesn't that make you a sissy maid?"
He stuttered and then spat out, "I'm doing housework as a maid, but that
doesn't mean I'm a SISSY maid."
She laughed. "Well, obviously you're a maid. Just look at you!" Coming
closer, she added thoughtfully, "I bet you're a good maid, too. Hard-
working and obedient, I suppose?"
He looked at her in confusion. She asked again calmly, "Well? Are you a
hard-working and obedient maid?"
He processed her words for a minute and then replied, "I try to be. I
figure if I'm going to clean as a maid, I'd better do a good job."
"I couldn't agree more," she said, softening and smiling. "And who are
you working so hard for?"
"Um... For you, of course," he admitted. "I do it to make you happy."
"You mean cleaning the house, or dressing up as a maid?" she asked with a
cold look.
"Cleaning the house," he corrected himself, blushing. "I'm sorry about
the dressing up."
"Hmphh." She sounded unconvinced. "You looked pretty happy when I came
in." He looked down in shame.
She continued, "So you're a maid, but not a SISSY maid. Tell me, what's
wrong with being a sissy maid?"
"I don't know, it just seems kind of... demeaning," he said
uncomfortably.
"I see." She thought for a moment. "But surely it's demeaning to be
dressed in a maid's uniform and have to serve someone. Most people would
find that a little demeaning, don't you agree?"
"Um, I guess so," he replied uncertainly.
"And you're not even a woman, " she pointed out drily. "For a man to
perform services for his wife while wearing a bra and panties, and a
little black maid's dress with a white apron, and lacy white cuffs, and a
lacy white collar around his neck -- I think that's pretty much the
definition of 'demeaning,' don't you?"
He said nothing. She glared at him expectantly and demanded, "Well?"
"I guess so," he admitted.
"And yet you do it."
He didn't answer.
"So what you're doing is demeaning," she continued, "and you might as
well be called a sissy maid. There's no getting around it."
"I guess, if you go by that definition," he conceded reluctantly,
"You GUESS? Don't be so evasive. Are you a sissy maid or not? Do you
enjoy performing services for your wife in a maid's uniform?"
"I guess 'yes'," he said.
"Yes, WHAT?" she pressed.
"Yes, I enjoy performing services for -- for my wife in a maid's
uniform," he said sheepishly.
"Even though, as you admit, it's demeaning?"
He said nothing.
"Which makes you a sissy maid."
He still said nothing.
"Your silence says everything," she pointed out. "Admit it. What are you?
Let me hear you say it."
He gave her a pleading look, but she just stared back. Under her
withering gaze he looked at his feet and mumbled, "OK, OK, I'm a sissy
maid."
"What's that? I didn't hear you."
He said more clearly, "I'm a sissy maid."
Sorry -- WHAT kind of maid are you?"
"I'm a SISSY maid," he answered, still staring at his feet.
At this she couldn't suppress a laugh. "Exactly," she taunted. After a
pause, she continued, "You make a good sissy maid."
As he stood clutching the vacuum cleaner in confusion, she walked slowly
around him. Stopping behind him, she leaned in and murmured in his ear,
"I'm not sure I want a SISSY maid, but I think we can work with the
possibilities."
She paused thoughtfully before asking seductively, "How would you like to
be my maid for real? You could wear a real maid's uniform and keep the
house clean, and I wouldn't have to go out. You could even perform maid
services for me while I'm here. It could be fun. Of course, you'd have to
meet certain requirements. How about it?" From her position behind him,
she reached under his dress and put her hand on the front of his panties.
He was rock hard. "Would you like to be in my service, and wear a maid's
uniform?"
He froze, except for his cock, which started twitching.
She rubbed him gently through the nylon and continued talkiing in his ear
from behind. "This is a one-time only offer. You'll never get this chance
again, so don't throw it away. I'll ask you once more: Would you like to
serve as my maid?"
He swallowed hard and thought for a moment, and then agreed hesitantly,
"That could be fun."
"You want to wear a real maid's uniform and call me 'Mistress'?" she
asked knowingly.
"Yes, Mistress," he whispered excitedly.
"Do you promise to be hard-working and obedient?"
"Yes, Mistress."
She grinned and took hold of his chin. "Well, then, you'd better ask
Mistress nicely," she purred into his ear, her other hand still rubbing
the front of his panties.
"Please, Mistress," he said hoarsely, "may I be your sissy maid?"
"oh, but 'sissy' is so demeaning," she mocked him, still holding his chin
and rubbing his cock. "You agreed to be my maid for real, remember? Now
ask again properly, and give me a reason to say yes."
"Please, Mistress, may I be your maid?" he offered. "I'll be obedient and
hard-working. I'll do all the cleaning and washing. You can just enjoy
life while I serve you."
"What about the cooking? Will you learn to cook for me?"
He swallowed. "Yes, Mistress."
She tensed her grip on his chin slightly. "Personal services? Foot
massages?"
"Yes, Mistress," he said quietly.
"Well... Show me you mean it. Ask again, but this time with feeling." She
reached down and gave his balls a little squeeze, and then fondled them
gently as he confessed his desires to her.
"Please, Mistress, may I be your maid?", he said with all the earnestness
he could muster. "I'll do all the cleaning and washing, and I'll cook for
you, and I'll give you massages and do anything else you want." In the
silence he added, "I promise to be an obedient and hard working maid.
Please, Mistress."
She kissed his ear lightly, released his chin and his panty-covered
balls, and stepped away. "Well, since you want it so badly, I'm favorably
disposed to you becoming my maid. But only under certain conditions," she
murmured suggestively. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a modified
Sissy Maid's Contract she had found on the Internet, and handed it to
him. "My conditions are spelled out in this contract," she informed him.
"This is your ticket to becoming my maid."
No doubt he had seen the contract before, but he stood in the middle of
their living room in his maid's uniform and read it all. She watched with
arms folded. She had removed the section that offered him choices about
clothing and duties and methods of discipline, and replaced them with
clauses stating that these choices would be made by Mistress. She had
also added a clause that, in exchange for Maid performing domestic
services, Mistress would manage all domestic finances. When he came to
the changes, he swallowed a lump in his throat, but he said nothing and
continued reading.
When he was done, she said, "If you really want to be my hard-working and
obedient maid, that's what this contract will help ensure. It is what
you're begging for, isn't it?" Smirking, she ran her hand across his
stuffed boob and down the side of his dress, catching his apron lightly
with her finger.
He swallowed. "It seems a little extreme, Mistress," he said uncertainly.
"Extreme? It requires you to serve me as a maid and look after the house,
that's all."
"But what about the training and discipline?"
"What about them?" she countered. "Are you planning to do a sloppy job?
Do you expect me to look the other way? The training will make you a good
maid. You do want to be a good maid, don't you?"
"Yes, Mistress," he replied. "But is the discipline really necessary?"
"Only if you turn out to be a lazy, disobedient maid. But you're going to
be hard-working, obedient maid, isn't that right?"
"Yes, Mistress, but..."
"No buts," she interrupted him. "It's not an issue. We both want you to
be a maid, and this contract is designed to make it happen. Now sign
here, and your dreams will come true," she urged him, adding darkly,
"Before I change my mind."
He looked at her uncertainly. She smiled and looked at her watch. He set
the contract down on the coffee table and added his trembling signature
to the last page. A thrill stirred between her legs.
"Good girl," she congratulated him. "Now, I need you to write down your
financial passwords, and also your email password."
He looked up in trepidation.
"I'll need them if I'm managing the finances," she pointed out. "It's
already in the contract; this is just a formality. Are you going to be
the hard-working and obedient maid of the household, or not?"
"But... can't you just consult me?"
"My dear, a good maid lets her Mistress look after the finances so she
can devote herself to service. I can't be interrupting your work with our
financial problems all the time. This is just the most sensible
arrangement for you to become my hard-working and obedient maid. That's
what we both want, isn't it?"
She watched a shiver run through him. "Yes, Mistress," he said, writing
his passwords in the margin.
"Good girl," she purred. "Now just sign and initial this copy."
When he had finished, she signed all the papers herself. Then, looking up
at him with a little smile, she slipped the copy in her purse. "Wait
here," she told him. "And don't you dare move, understand?"
"Yes, Mistress," he agreed submissively, standing before her in his cheap
maid costume, practically hypnotized into obedience by his own fantasy.
She took both contracts to her desk, sat down at the computer, and
changed his passwords, using his email to confirm the changes. Then she
locked the copy in her desk, and returned with the original. She was
pleased to find him waiting in the same position. She stood directly in
front of him and said, "We have just agreed that I may put you in
training to be a maid. I'll be ordering a proper maid's uniform and a
fitted corset for you. In the meantime, I will begin to train you how to
walk and act correctly for your new position. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mistress," he said breathlessly.
"During your training, your underwear will consist of panties, a stuffed
bra, and a store-bought corset. You will wear seamed stockings, and you
will be in high heels to elevate your bum and give you line. Do you
understand?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"You will wear that ridiculous Hallowe'en costume every day during your
training period, until your real maid's uniform arrives. Do you agree to
all this?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Of course you do," she laughed. "You signed this contract." She
brandished the sheaf of papers. "You have no choice but to agree. I've
already changed all your accounts. I control everything, so you'll want
to stay on my good side. Also, you wouldn't want our friends to see this,
would you?" Her smirk softened into a satisfied smile as she pulled out
her phone and started taking pictures of him in his maid's uniform.
"Oh, no, please don't!" he exclaimed, hiding his face.
She stopped and raised an eyebrow. "You mean, 'Please don't, MISTRESS'!"
she corrected him sternly.
"Please don't, Mistress," he repeated nervously, wondering what he'd got
himself into.
She sent the photos to her email account, and then looked up at him and
said, "The contract gives me the right to punish your mistakes. Did you
just forget to address me as Mistress?"
"Yes, Mistress. Sorry, Mistress," he said, swallowing hard.
"It was a small mistake; you were distracted. think I should just put you
over my knee and spank you. Would that be a suitable punishment?"
He looked at her in alarm.
She held up the phone and the contract. "These pictures are in the cloud
so I can access them anywhere," she informed him. "And this is the
contract you signed, remember? For someone in your position, there's only
one answer," she smiled.
He swallowed, assessing his options. After a minute he answered, "Yes,
Mistress."
She sat down on the living room couch and patted her lap. "Come here, my
pretty little maid."
He put down the vacuum cleaner hose and approached her. "Over my knees,"
she instructed. "And hurry, or you'll be in worse trouble."
Quickly, he got into position over her knees, his bum facing her right
hand. She raised his skirt to expose his backside. "Lift your hips so we
can take down your panties," she ordered. He did so. "Good girl," she
purred, pulling his panties down. "What a pretty ass my new maid has,"
she taunted. She could feel his aroused member twitching nervously in her
lap. "Let's see how much prettier we can make it. Put your hands behind
you," she ordered firmly. He did, and she clamped his arms against the
small of his back with her left hand and arm. Then with her right hand,
she smacked his right buttock as hard as she could. Across her thighs,
she could feel his cock throbbing. He liked being dominated, just as she
had hoped.
"It's turned a lovely pink" she remarked, and then delivered a stinging
whack to the left buttock. "Oh, wait, now the other one's pinker," she
said innocently, and slapped the first one again. "Oh, dear," she said,
and then continued slapping his ass hard on whichever cheek she thought
needed it more. She figured this was necessary to draw him into
servitude, but she was surprised by how much she was enjoying herself,
working with increasing force and confidence on his beleaguered behind
while he suffered the painful humiliation of being spanked by his wife,
his hard-on raging helplessly in her lap. After a few minutes, when both
his ass-cheeks were glowing and his cock was pulsing, she pulled a
hairbrush from her purse and began spanking him vigorously. "This--"
SMACK "-- is what happens" SMACK" --to forgetful--" SMACK "-- maids!"
SMACK! He let out a whimper of pain, but she just continued the
punishment, enjoying the power she felt in each stroke as she humiliated
him. His hard-on began wilting, but he continued taking the hairbrush
spanking as quietly as he could. She didn't stop until she heard him
sniffling.
She ordered him to stand up and face her. He did so quickly, clumsily
pulling up his panties round his drooping, oozing cock, and adjusting his
skirts. He was flushed and out of breath, his eyes red and watery, his
nose running.
"I have corrected your behaviour to make you a better maid," she informed
him. "Are you thankful?"
"Yes, Mistress," he croaked.
"What do you say?"
"Th-thank you, Mistress," he stuttered.
"That's right. And why are you thanking me?"
"For punishing me and teaching me to be a better maid," he offered
tearfully.
"Say it all together. And promise to try harder."
"Thank you, Mistress, for punishing me and teaching me to be a better
maid," he said, sniffling. "I have learned my lesson and I promise to try
harder to please you."
"Good. Now say it again with a respectful curtsey."
He looked at her uncertainly. She noticed his erection beginning to
recover.
"Do it!" she commanded.
He delivered a clumsy curtsey, and staring at the floor he repeated
steadily and slowly, "Thank you, Mistress, for punishing me and teaching
me to be a better maid. I have learned my lesson and I promise to try
harder to please you."
"Good girl," she said, standing and patting his tender ass. "Tomorrow
we'll begin to make you more feminine. You're going to look completely
convincing, so that seeing you working around the house in a maid's dress
doesn't bother me. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mistress," he agreed uncertainly.
"Now," she announced, "you may finish the vacuuming. I'm going out for
four hours. I want you to show me how much housework you can do in that
time. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"If I'm not satisfied, you will be disciplined, and this time we'll do it
properly. What do you say to that?"
"Yes, Mistress," he blurted, hardly believing what was happening.
She stood up. "I suggest you prepare the spare room, as you will be
sleeping there from now on," she said coldly, and with that, she left.
She heard the vacuum cleaner starting up as she was going out the front
door. Smiling to herself, she considered the prospects for her sissy
husband's new life.
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