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Sissy Nancy

Just another sissy's progress...

Monday, November 2, 2009

Sissy Maid Story, Part Two





Chapter 2

The Master was speaking. The sissy stood before him in the foyer in full French maid’s regalia, keeping her back straight, attempting not to sway too much in her high heels.  Her palms were sweating and there seemed to be a nearly deafening silent buzzing sensation in her ears. From somewhere in the distance, she almost felt she could hear a jilted ex-girlfriend’s vaguely hysterical laughter aimed at her. Trying to put the thought out of her mind, she concentrated on the instructions now being delivered to her.

“I expect you have given yourself a feminine name which you assume is your identity. If you have done so then I have no desire to know it. To me you are simply ‘sissy’. That is your name and your title and your essence as far as I am concerned.”

“Sir, yes, I understand, Sir.”

”You are here for two things - to take care of the house, and to please me. Often, they will be one and the same. Often you will be called on to please me sexually. You will do this without any thought of your own pleasure. You will live here, but since you so graciously decided to accept my generous offer of working here for free, you are also an employee. As such, you will be expected to follow certain rules and prescribed behaviors as set out by your employer, in order to remind you constantly of your position here. Is that understood, sissy?”

“Sir, yes Sir.”

”As such, the first rule is that you will never speak unless spoken to, unless you have a question regarding pleasing me. Is that clear, sissy?”

”Sir, yes Sir.”

”If you must use the bathroom, if I am here, you must first ask me for permission. And of course, you will always go the way a proper sissy should. Do you know what that is, sissy?”

“Sir, I think so, Sir.”

”And what is that?”

“Sir, sitting down, Sir?”

“Very good, sissy. Every time I enter a room, or you enter a room where I am, or I dismiss you from a room, you will perform a deep, gracious curtsey for me.  When you are standing or kneeling at attention, in other words, awaiting my orders, your hands will always be kept crossed over your apron. Is that understood, sissy?”

“Sir, yes Sir,” she replied. After a brief pause, she quickly and ditzily crossed her hands in the manner described.

”Your walk is already very feminine. That is good. Have you practiced this walk before, sissy?” There was a slight silence as the sissy looked at the ground.

”Sissy?” he raised his voice slightly.

”Sir, yes Sir.”

”Very good. But just to make sure you remember exactly who you are, when you walk, assuming they are not performing a task for me, I want your arms to be up always, and your wrists to hang limply down, fingers pointing towards the floor. I’ll bet you can do that, can’t you, sissy?”

“Sir, yes Sir.”

“Do it.”

She raised her arms to her sides.

”Do it walking, sissy bitch.”

Taking a deep breath at the sting of the words, she gathered herself and began walking towards the opposite wall her arms held up, hands dangling like a skipping little girl or a flamboyantly gay man. She turned on her heels and strode back to her Master in the same manner.

”Good sissy. Now, here’s the tricky part. Whenever I say ‘Mince, sissy,”’ I want you to walk with your hands down, below your apron, fingers pointed outward. When I say ‘Prance, sissy,” I want your arms back up like they were before. Quickly and silently. Is that clear, sissy?”

“Sir, yes Sir.”

“Are you sure, sissy?”

“Sir, yes Sir,” she repeated.

”Good. Why don’t you give it a try. You do want to try it don’t you?”

“Sir, yes Sir.”

”Let’s go. Mince, sissy.”

Keeping her arms down straight at her sides, she began the same walk again, only this time with her arms straight down, fingers pointed outward, in a manner befitting some sort of walking Barbie doll.

”Prance, sissy.”

As she got to the end, she suddenly lifted her arms up. Turning, she held them up as her hands flopped from side to side.

”Mince, sissy.”

Back down went the hands, the arms swinging stiffly back and forth.

”Prance, sissy.”

Again with the dangling wrists.

After a few passes, the Master ordered the sissy to stop, barely concealing his mirth at this game. She came to a halt before him, her bosom now appearing to heave under her bodice in deep gasping breaths.

”Very good sissy. I want you to understand perfectly clearly. From now on, you are to do everything as told. If I order you to lisp, you will lisp. If I order you to speak in a French accent, you will do so.  If I have to lift a finger I do not want to lift, or utter an instruction I do not want to have to utter, you will have failed, and therefore be punished, or cast out the door as dressed. You don’t want either of those to happen now do you, sissy?”

”Sir, no Sir.”

“One more thing, sissy. You are to be a sissy at all times. If I catch the slightest glimpse of masculine behaviour in the way you walk or talk or behave, then you will be punished severely. Remember you are a sissy, a pansy, a fairy, a faggot and you must show this at all times. A sissy is not a woman so you will not act like a woman but as a sissy. That is why you prance and mince; that is why you wear clothes that no woman would wear. That is why you will have to adapt to walking in those ridiculously high heels for the entire day. Do you understand, sissy?’

“Yes, sir. I do understand, Sir,” she said, pitching her voice higher than usual.

”Good. Since you will be adopting the role of the woman of the house, I think it is only appropriate that you have a tour, don’t you?”

“Sir, yes Sir.”

”Prance, sissy.”

Turning his back, he headed toward the stairs. With wrists limp and heels clacking behind to keep up, she followed him up the stairs. He went to the room where she had changed.

”This is your room, where you will sleep and dress. You may repair to it only at night, or when I say you may. Is this clear, sissy?”

“Sir, yes Sir.”

”I will be making some minor modifications to it later, but you needn’t be concerned about that. Let’s keep going. Mince, sissy.”

Lowering her arms to the straightened position, she followed along.

”Here is the Master bedroom. You will not enter hear except to make my bed in the morning, or when I call you. Is that understood?”

“Sir, yes Sir.”

”Prance sissy,” he snapped, turning again to show her the guest bedroom. While there was no one staying there, she would still be expected to dust and vacuum each day, freshening the sheets once a week, hospital corners on the sheets always. (Mince, sissy.) This applied to all rooms of the house, the dusting and vacuuming. He showed her to the laundry room, where she would be doing all his laundry, “Except my underwear, which you will personally wash by hand, and your own clothes which will are far too fine and delicate to go through the washing machine.”

(Prance, sissy) “Sir, yes Sir.”

After showing her all the relevant areas of the house and giving her instructions on opening and closing the blinds, the lights, the garbage (mince sissy), etc., the tour concluded in the kitchen. (Heel sissy.)

”Finally, one of the most important rooms in the house for you sissy. Here, you will be cooking all of my meals, and cooking them well. But I’m certain that with the right incentives you will learn to become a very adequate, if not a gourmet chef in no time at all. Except tonight, since we got a late start, and you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow. I will order food and you can fix yourself a salad. At any rate, you will keep the place immaculate, the dishes dry and sparkling, and the floors waxed and shined every day so I can see my reflection. I’m afraid I’ve let the place go of late, but that doesn’t matter now. In fact, it won’t matter ever again, will it, sissy?”

”Sir, no Sir.”

”You do know how to wax a floor so I can see my reflection in it, don’t you, sissy?”

“Sir, yes Sir.”

He stood there watching her.

”Well what are you waiting for?” he said, enjoying her mouth suddenly drop open in realization.

”Get to it!”

”Sir, yes Sir!” she replied, scurrying off to the cupboard to retrieve her cleaning supplies.

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