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 "Stand up, Lillian.  Shoulders straight.  Arch your back.  Be feminine. 
Let your frillies flounce up in that ocean of frothy crinoline.  Yes, Maid
Lillian, fluff out your petticoats!  That's a lamb.

   "Hold a second, Sweetie.  Let's take a sharp look at you.  Please lift
up your silken layers a bit more, so I can see your Little Lollipop stuffed
beneath.  Oh, it's delightful.  Your pathetic struggling worm remains
trapped.  Your small popsickle-stick attempts to stiffen, but my strong
hair-clasp squishes it to pulp, so instead it writhes painfully.

   "Hmmmmmm.  Let me tuck it down and under a bit more.  Stop flinching!  I
know it's turning a blistering red.  Oh, I see Baby.  Don't cry.  I know it
must hurt awful.  But the harness pushes the mean thing out of the way,
flattering your silhouette.

   "Shhhh, Dear Lillian.  I already listened to your protests.  We've
discussed this many times.  Your once-masculine stature has been reduced to
that of an intimate lady's maid in this household.  It's an honor to serve
your queen.  To help dress her.  To help bathe her.  To comfort her in
times of stress.

   "Be graceful in your new role, Lillian.  It's your duty to squirm,
helpless, underneath me, smothering under my skirt, tonguing my sweet
orifices to repeated pleasures.  Feeling your face drenched in hot sweat
under my thighs, surrounded by curtains of lace, struggling to gasp each
time I clench my buttocks, makes me feel so adored.  I shake and rock in
ecstasy, while you must hold your made-up face primly in place, wedged
under my weight, all the time your hands are trapped in cute puffed sleeves
bent modestly behind your back.  You make me so happy.  But not as a man.

   "I especially love to watch you kneeling at my high-heeled, polished red
shoes, primping me up prettily in short sexy dresses for my dates.  There's
often a deep sad look on your face, while a flirtatious bubbling grin is
spread across mine.  I often babble aloud in girlish excitement, at the
same time glowering at you whenever you guiltily try to stare up my
gorgeous dress.  I giggle repeatedly, since it was YOU who selected it for
me from the closet.  Your hairless butt would have been flogged had it not
been seductive enough for Robert.  Oh yes, my hunk stud Robert, the thought
of whom even now sends shivers down my spine, while my sweet little hubby
fastidiously adjusts my stockings.

   "Of course, Robert is just the latest one.  Good for masculine sex, but
not much else.  It's not the studs that I like -- it's you, Lillian, who
has captured my heart forever.  Soft, sweet Lillian, a frightened lamb. 
Mommie's sweet, disciplined sissy maid and helper.

   "Yes, pat Mommie's stockings to make them smooth.  You can feel the silk
texture, but no caressing.  That kind of intimacy is Robert's mission. 
Yours is to make Mommie look sophisticated and elegant for Robert.

   "Do not feel neglected, Sweetie.  Your endearing, simpering little
ministrations shall prepare the mood for an exquisite evening.  Just seeing
you there, nervously straightening my seams, afraid to make eye contact,
strengthens my own lust for the masculine.  Your imposed self-sacrifice of
enforced chastity suits you as my adored servant husband.

   "Almost done.  Now straighten my silk puffed bow in front.  Robert loves
to see me in feminine blouses.  You do too, but it's only a wet dream for
you.  For a stud like my date...it's MY dream.

   "Yes, Dear, it's a sweetheart neckline.  I wanted to show off some
cleavage for tonight.  Ouch!  Your sissy little fingers grazed my breasts.
Big mistake.  You know I don't want any of your distractions around me
right now.  Kneel back down.  On the carpet.  Face to the floor.  Skirts
up.

   "Am I seeing hesitation, Missy?  Your quaint hurt expressions and stupid
flirting attempts do not deter me in the slightest.  I am your Mommie
Mistress, and your squeamish rebellion must be addressed immediately.  No
slacking in this house.  I am tightening your penis clasp for the rest of
the night.  You can clean and dust the furniture in a state of mortified,
shameful misery, as you think of me in the arms of a strong and confident
lover.  The clasp will hold you in its pinch of pain for another week, no
release until then.

   "Now get up.  Fix the slight wrinkle in my hem.  Eyes down, sissy girl.
Make me look good for Robert.

   ON ANOTHER DAY

   "Hello?  Oh, Robert!  Just thinking about you.  Be delighted to know
that my sweet sissy is giving me a pedicure for our date tonight.  My
pretty feet are propped up on her skirted lap, as she daintily paints my
toenails.  Wait a minute, Robert.  Get your eyes down, Sissy.  No staring
up my legs.  Yes, that's right.  They're tan silk stockings, just for
Robert.  Um, Sweetie.  Focus on my slender toes.  Blow on them to make them
dry.  That's a girl.

   "Robert, just hearing your deep voice on the phone makes me tingle with
anticipation.  Sissy, get over here.  Over my lap.  I haven't forgotten
about your earlier tantrum this afternoon.  Face down over Mommie's lap. 
Get used to my regular date nights with an alpha male.  What's that,
Robert? Oh, just punishing my sissy here.  She did a spectacular job on my
hands and feet, but it's time now for her spanking.  No, we needn't
interrupt our conversation.  She accepts my right to discipline her at any
time.

   "That's right, Lillian.  Fluff up your skirt in back.  Let's see your
frilly panties.  Hold still.  I'm shouldering my phone so I can hit your
girlish rump while talking to Robert at the same time.  It's called
multi-tasking.  Oh, Robert.  That's so funny.

   "Oh God.  I can feel her pathetic, clamped-in skinny popsickle
struggling against my dress-covered lap, the puny thing throbbing painfully
in its impotent lust.  This is the closest that I allow her to press
against me, from the front anyway.  Except on her weekly release nights, of
course.  What's that, Robert?  You think I should switch her to a BIWEEKLY
schedule?  Giggle!  I don't think my little sissy here enjoyed hearing
that. But she's forbidden to express any anger.

   "WHACK!  That's spank Number One.  Count them for me, Dearest.  Oh,
Robert, she feels so funny.  Her writhing stick is rubbing against me as I
spank away.  Listening to your voice as I spank her is the real
aphrodisiac. Sissy here just adds to my sexual stimulation, grinding away
in tight, futile pain each time she's whacked.  But it's your masculine
voice and thoughts of tonight that are driving me over the edge.


   THE END