New! Mincing Maid, Miss Mandee

Priscilla Gay Bouffant

(Somebody really nice, whom I wanted to thank)

A really sweet sissy whom I met on the net inspired this story. The physical description is really close, especially those dark curly locks. Indeed, she does have a really prim, ladylike posture. Sweet, submissive, cute and shy? Read on. Why do you think the title spells, mmmm?

“Amanda, Amanda Lynn!?” Cynthia was calling.

She sounded like she meant business. Calling me Amanda meant she was being formal. Amanda Lynn could mean ‘over the knee’ time. Or she could just be trying to scare me.

I minced primly into the living room. It’s easy to mince really primly when I’m wearing four-inch heels and a ‘trainer sized’ butt plug. My posture so perfect and ladylike, arms at my sides, hands at my thighs, held limply at the wrists.

At the time, I was doing light housework so my heels were only four-inch. Serving casual guests, or a formal party, would mean even taller heels. I actually look forward to heavy housework days. That means I can wear something with a three-inch heel or less, less meaning inch and a half for outside work.

I reach Mistress Cynthia. She’s seated on the living room couch, using a file to touch up her gleaming nails. About six feet from her I stop, curtsey smartly, and say, “Yes Miss Cindy.”

I don’t mean to confuse you.

Sometimes my lady is Mistress, other times Miss, ma’am even. She can be called Cynthia, Cindy, or in moments of passion, dear, darling or Cyn. She’s not fussy. As long as I’m respectful, know my place, and stay in character.

You see, we’re married. We’re lovers also. I’m the wife of course. She plays the role of domme. To me it’s simple.

Why did she feminize me? No special reason. She didn’t need one then. She doesn’t need one now. She’ll even shrug her shoulders when asked and answer, “I just felt like doing it.”

“There you are Mandee. What have you been doing?” She looks up from her nails.

“Ironing ma’am.” I punctuate it with yet another curtsey.

“Okay, hold still for a moment. Before we do our weekly maid and house inspection, I have some news for you.” She sets her file on the lamp table next to her, and continues. “I just got off my cellular with Lauren Best. You remember her, don’t you precious?” She looks at me for my reaction. I gulp and nod, unable to speak.

“I thought you would. She and her daughter, Jessica, will be flying in from Chicago, this coming Friday. I’ll be meeting them. They’ll be with us for a full week. As you may recall you were very rude to them during their last visit.” She paused for effect and went on.

“Well, they will take into consideration, the fact that you had yet to undergo your lovely transition. You will, however, apologize to them. They in turn may decide to discipline you. I’ll discuss, and approve any chastisement with them privately. Understood dear?” She asked with a slight raise of the eyebrows.

“Yes, of course, Miss Cynthia,” I managed to say, my breath coming in little gasps.

“Compose yourself, Mandee. They won’t be here for another five days. Besides, what could they possibly do to you that I haven’t already done several times? Oh, by the by, love, can you believe it? Jessica is 22 already. Just like her mother too, according to Lauren.” She then motioned for me to pay attention to her and turn around so she could inspect me.

“Looks nice,” she said. Getting up she motioned for me to follow her on her inspection of the entire house.

She was in a really good mood. I’d made sure I had on my prettiest French style afternoon dress, with a pert tiara shaped headpiece, just the right amount of lace showing. I was wearing her favorite perfume. Because I have dark curly hair, I wear really red lipstick and nail polish and dark eye make-up also.

At each room she would enter, I would stop just inside the door and off to the side. She’d check the furniture, the curtains, and the floors, all with a critical, trained eye. Then, if satisfied, she’d leave. If not she would have me note the deficiencies she’d found.

I’d then jot these on a small pad I carried in my apron. The insufficiencies would be dealt with later. As she left the room I would bob another curtsey.

On this particular excursion she was really very pleased and very cheery. She would smile and say “lovely” or “very nice, angel”, as she looked around the room. She’d comment on how pretty the rooms smelled or point to the sachets or flowers I’d put out,  remarking, “such a beautiful touch.”

What really made me feel wonderful was her occasional touching or patting of my hand when making her remarks. My body just tingled all over. All Cyn ever had to do was touch me and I wanted to swoon.

The last room she checked was mine, and once she’d looked around, she pointed to the vanity and said, “Sit down, Mandee. Face the mirror. I want to show you something.”

Removing my maid’s headpiece, and tossing it on the vanity, she picked up a hairbrush and some bobby pins. Saying, “Hold these,” she put the brush in my right hand and pins in my left. Then she fluffed the curls at my shoulders.

“Now, we’ve let you grow your hair this long, and put a   perm in. It really is very pretty. However, the handbook we got from Madame Rosalie (my tutor) prescribes proper hair length for a working maid to be ‘just to the collar, tightly curled or permanently waved, and barely framing the sides of the face.’ So, young lady.” She took the brush from me and began style my hair in an up motion.

While brushing she added, “Madame Rosalie will be here, this Wednesday, I believe. We don’t want to disappoint her. She has you down to semi-monthly visits now. She considers you one of her advanced students. Let’s really impress her. Shall we?”

“Oh, yes ma’am. I don’t want to displease Madame,” I answered. I knew full well the consequences.

She then continued her discourse on ‘proper hair length and style for a working maid.’

“If the hair is longer, like yours, it should be braided, bunched in pigtails, in a ponytail, or worn up. We’re going put yours up. I want you to keep it like this. Especially if you’re serving food.” She began to brush it more vigorously. As she began to fashion the up-do , I held out the pins for her to use.

When she was finished she picked up a can of sweet smelling Sebastian hair spray and gave my do a healthy dosing. Finished, she replaced my faux tiara and said proudly, “There, a maid to order! Won’t Ms. Rosalie be proud of you the next time she visits?”

I really didn’t look forward to my lessons with my tutor. She came to the house about twice a month now, down from twice a week. She could be quite the disciplinarian, especially if she felt I’d been remiss in my duties or appearance.

She was not fond of the dark eye make-up I wore. Ms. Cynthia didn’t seem to mind. However, when Ms. Rosalie was coming I toned it down a lot.

My reverie was broken as I saw my reflection and Cynthia’s in the mirror. I smiled. It felt so good having her touch me. She placed her hands on my shoulders and squeezed gently. She then kissed my flushed cheek.

“Mmmm, you are so soft and you smell so pretty, my little maid. What do you think your mistress should do about that?” she asked is a husky, throaty voice.

“Oh, goodness, oh Miss Cindy, I feel so helpless when you touch me like this,” I panted, out of control, because of her slight ministrations.

“You are the hot little one, aren’t you Mandee? My, my, you get more passionate everyday. Well, it’s a good thing I know how to handle hot young sissies.” She began to unbutton my dress, then stopped when she reached my waist. “You take it from there, baby. I’ll take my stuff off and turn down the bed.”

“Don’t forget to get your toy box.” She added, reminding me of our collection of oils, lotions and sexual aides that was in my closet.

Quickly I got out of my clothing, and going into the closet I got the box, clearly labeled, Mandee’s Play Toys. I placed it on the table by the bed stand, asking, “Will I need to remove my plug, Mistress.”

“You may as well. Keep it out for that matter. I’ll tell you when to put it back in again.” She pointed towards the bathroom, and I entered , closing the door behind me, and going about the business of taking out my butt plug.

After washing my hands I entered the bedroom to the lovely sight of Cynthia seated on the bed, her chin length light auburn hair done in pretty curls around her face.

She motioned for me to come to her. I noted she had several toys out of the box and near her on the lamp table next to her. Taking me in her arms she smothered me with kisses as she pulled me down to the bed. Soon I was on my back as she massaged my sissy genitals.

Laughing to herself she mounted my swollen ‘girlie plum’ and began to ride me. She pinned my arms down with her strong hands. I whimpered, which only made her smile. She worked herself into frenzy, finally getting off of my hot little clitty and mounting my face so I could suck and lick her to orgasm.

A while later, it was my turn. With my butt in the air facing her, she entered me with her well-oiled strap-on. As I moaned and made sissy like whining sounds she manipulated my sissy plum until I couldn’t stand it any longer. Crying out, I squealed to an orgasm, and collapsed.

She lay on top of me awhile. I could feel my sticky sissy cream on the bed. More laundry for later. First, however, I cleaned Cynthia up. Then myself.

Cyn had a lunch date with a friend. I had plenty of housework to do. We both smiled as we began to get dressed. As she left for her date, I went back to my duties.

Wednesday came soon enough. I looked out the window as Madame Rosalie strolled up the walkway from her Audi. She looked so confident and self-assured. Quite the contrast from the way I felt. With my mistress at work for another hour, half of my lesson would be conducted privately with Madame Rosalie.

I opened the door and curtseyed as she entered, my greeting sweet and submissive. She looked around the foyer and living room as I took her coat and purse. She tossed her off-black shoulder length hair.

Walking to the living room, with me following, she said nothing. Sitting down, she pointed to the center of the room and said, “Twirl for me my lamb, slowly. Then stop and face me. Pose prettily in the standard catalogue model’s position,” she said, full well knowing I had practiced this numerous times.

I did as she told me, ending up with one hand on my hip, the other at my thigh, fingers spread daintily. I looked off to the right. My legs and feet were close together, my right knee bent slightly, toe pointed out. I’d stay this way until she excused me.

I’d prepared for her visit all morning and into early after noon. I did exactly as told. She watched my every move and then stared at me as I posed. I hoped my extensive preparations would pay off.

After Cynthia had left for work I’d begun to clean the house. It had to be fresh, sweet smelling and spotless. Then I had showered, making sure to shampoo, condition and cream rinse. I’d set my hair, back and sides only on extra large hot rollers. The top I’d done in pin curls.

Then I began to dress. My underwear, was all filmy and sexy, as usual. It was my outerwear that she would look at the most. I settled on a black taffeta dress, with double petticoats. It was off the shoulder, with spaghetti straps. My hose were smoky gray. My heels were the highest I owned; six inch pumps. I must have spent two hours or more on my hair and make-up.

Once I was dressed, I’d sit down at my vanity and removed the hot rollers, spraying the whole rolled area heavily with spritz. The large rollers had smoothed out my perm and I began to brush and then put all but the hair on top into a French braid. The pin curled area I jelled slightly after removing the pins. I then finger styled the top into a dainty array of tiny curls. I then added a small, white lace pom-pom, pinning it in place.

The pom-pom matched the lacy, white, heart shaped apron tied at my waist, with a huge bow in back. My make-up was a contrast in colors and blends. My lips were pouted, full, and heavily coated with a rich cherry red. As always, the polish on my two-inch extenders matched. My darker, black cherry blusher had been applied over my carefully blended beige/peach foundation. I’d powdered the base to give it a matte finish, before adding the blush.

Finally I’d carefully done my eyes. I wanted them to look open, innocent, and helpless. To achieve this I had used really soft pastel shades, pinks, yellows, and powder blue. I’d mixed them carefully. Then I had just barely touched up my brows and lashes with a small amount of Autumn Brown. The effect was one of a very willing, “Take me I’m helpless” maid to please sissy. It wasn’t lost on Lady Rosalie.

“Wonderful, Amanda, really darling, no wonder your mistress keeps you around the house. You must be a true pleasure to dominate. I know I’d have fun with you,” she said as she got up to circle around me. At the same time she gave the room a cursory inspection, glancing into the kitchen.

“Is that Hazelnut, I smell brewing? If so I’d love a cup. Get one for yourself also. Then be seated, we’ll discuss today’s lesson, which I’m afraid will be very brief. It also will be your last for some time. That is, of course, contingent on your continued exemplary behavior,” she said this as I curtseyed and headed happily to the kitchen.

I was thrilled! As much as I appreciated this grand woman’s role in my transformation, she had become a second mistress to me. A very strict mistress at that. I really needed the opportunity to please Cynthia, without any outside threat of discipline. I wanted to prove to Cynthia I could please her out of love, devotion and submission.

Getting two cups of coffee, cream only, I brought them to the living room on a tray. I served Ms. Rosalie properly, then sat down across from her. I made sure to smooth my skirts and sit primly.

As we chatted, in a ladylike manner she explained to me that the only lesson we’d practice would be me greeting my lover at the door, upon her coming home. “She’s been out. It could be anywhere; work, shopping. You want to show her you’re thrilled she’s home and you’re ready to do anything to please her. Like this. Watch closely,” she said as she walked towards the front door, very demonstratively, and with a flourish, greeted an imaginary lover. “You try it, Mandee, with feeling dear, emote!” As she said this she sat down.

Now it was my turn. I sashayed to the foyer, and with the theatrics of  a 1950’s ingénue, said, “Cynthia, darling, goodness you’re home. Such a wonderful surprise dear.” Reaching to my hair I turned to a mirror self-consciously and “fixed” myself. Then turning back towards the door I smiled and added, “Is there anything at all I can get for you? Or, for that matter do for you my love?”

Ms. Rosalie clapped and said “Bravo!” She then had me practice it several more times. Luckily the phone rang. It was Cyn. She would be a little late. She wanted to speak to my tutor.

Ms. Rosalie motioned for me to get her more coffee. When I returned she was off the phone and seated. She then explained, “Cynthia asked me to do something for her. It appears she feels you might be too frustrated by the time she gets home. She wants you ready, but also relaxed enough to complete your house work, dinner, and be able to wait on her first.”

She reached into her briefcase, which she had kept with her and set some items on the coffee table. “Raise your skirts Mandee, so I can pin them up. Good. Now come over here to the living room window.” Saying this she took a blindfold and gently covered my eyes.

“Now the fun begins, Mandee, for both of us.” I felt her pull my panty brief down, then I heard  the sound of the curtains being drawn back with the attached pulley. Then she began to masturbate me with some cool sweet smelling arnica oil.

“My goodness, I’m being pulled off in front of the living room window. Any passersby can see!” I thought to myself. Even in the fear it was exciting, for she had stopped momentarily to put a CD on the player.

Soon I heard the sounds of  “Lola” by the Kinks. A song about a transvestite. Lady Rosalie laughed. “Are you going to come for me, Mandee? Only a few of your neighbors are watching. Maybe if you come by the time I count to twenty only a few will see it.”

Soon she began to count. I began to pant and whimper, like the simpering sissy I was. My neighbors probably weren’t watching. Only a real sissy like myself would permit someone to put them in such a humiliating position.

At ten she began to smack my butt with what turned out to be my graduation gift. A paddle. That was all I needed. I spurted my sissy cream all over the huge picture window.

As she released me I staggered blindly, until she assisted me into a chair. Removing my blindfold she kissed me on the forehead. “That was wonderful princess. Nothing spilled on the floor at all. Don’t forget to clean the window,” she said, as she began to gather her things.

“Don’t worry about me. I know the way out. You collect yourself. Be a good girl. Remember, emote!” As she headed out the door, I breathed a sigh of relief and sexual satisfaction. Shortly thereafter, I began to prepare for Cynthia’s coming home.

After cleaning up I began to cook dinner, and while it simmered I decided to fix myself. Still no Cyn. I had just sat down when I heard her car door shut. I prepared myself for her entrance. As the door opened, right on cue I said with a flourish, “Cynthia Darling……”

Epilogue

 We’re at the mall, four of us. To anyone looking we’re four ladies. Three dressed very chic.. One kind of hot looking. Well, maybe kind of sultry. No, not kind of. Really sultry.

Lauren best and her daughter had arrived  two days after my lesson with Madame Rosalie. I’d been really humble. They had waited until Saturday to consequence me. Two spankings.

Lauren gave me one over her knee. Little Jessica decided to give me mine while I was standing. She had heard about the “window scene”. Out came the blindfold. There was however a difference.

“I’m not touching you, you little sissy! You pull yourself off. Here. Here’s some baby oil,” she said, squirting it into my palms, and adding, “You’d better get it all on the window, sweetie. Whatever goes on the floor you lick up.”

Both Mistress Cyn and Lauren laughed. This 22 year old really had learned her stuff. In fact as I came, she insisted I bark. Not a loud bark. I cute little bark like a “Sissy French Poodle.”

When we all got ready to go shopping at the mall I was thrilled that they would even ask me to tag along, even if it was just to hold their packages. Cyn even laid out my things for me, saying, “Jessica picked out your outfit.”

Wow! Did she ever. Fishnet hose, black leather mini, white silk blouse, four inch opened toed pumps. “Do your hair up big, Mandee. Lots of jell and spray,” Cynthia added. I really out did myself. Put my eye make up on, “raccoon” style. I figured we were all going to cause a real stir.

It wasn’t until I joined them in the living room that I realized I would cause the stir. It was all a part of my consequence, and Jessica had thought it up.

 There they stood in perfect “ladies who lunch” linen suits. Lauren’s was beige, Cynthia’s white, Jessica’s cream. Heels to match. Make-up and hair tasteful and perfect.

 “Are we going to the mall with this trollop?” Lauren asked.

“I guess we are,” Cynthia replied.

 “Okay, Mandee, you can come. Stay behind us and carry our purchases,” Jessica admonished.

“Yes Mistress,” I replied. “I’m thrilled to be invited.”

We had a great time shopping and doing lunch. That evening in bed, as I snuggled with Cyn, I was told that the rest of the week would be without consequence.

“You did well Mandee. The ladies are pleased with how well you’ve behaved. They feel your transformation is a real success,” she said as she fondled my clitty.

Just as I was getting aroused she stopped, turned over and said, “Rub my back first Mandee.”

“Yes mistress,” I obediently replied.

It turned into a beautiful night. The visit by the ladies was wonderful also.  These days, although an obedient sissy maid, I can really feel like one of the girls.  I truly love it

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Contact Priscilla:
priscillagaybouffant@gmail.com