The 1960s brought freedom for many, but not for poor submissive sissy Betty Strickland - trapped in a breathtakingly tight corset and frilly satin maid's uniform, having to serve his wife in every way possible.
14,044 words of retro submission, crossdressing, teasing, strap-on sex and constant humiliation!
Available from Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk, Smashwords and AllRomance
An excerpt is below the break
When Betty turned round, having removed the gag, he saw an array of
ultra-feminine satin and lace items laid out on the bed, and knew
that Maisie must have already decided on an outfit for him. He knew
that, after throwing out his male wardrobe, his wife had not left
anything remotely masculine for him to wear. Nearly everything in
his new wardrobe was satin, silk, taffeta or lace and much of it
frilly and ruffles. Her intention was to force him to be more
feminine than most women, as both a terrible punishment for him, and
for her own pleasure at seeing him humiliated.
“Time for you to strip,” Maisie said, sitting on the edge of the
bed with a smile on her lips. “Take off the negligée, shoes and
panties - you're going to be my cute little maid today!”
Reluctantly standing up, but not daring to openly disobey her, Betty
pulled the sheer negligée over his head, laying it on the bed and
stepped out of the panties that were already around his ankles,
kicking off the high heeled mules. When he stood naked but for the
corset and stockings (and of course the gleaming cage locked around
his cock) Maisie smiled at him, then stepped close and ran her
fingers up his left arm then across the top of his chest. “You
look so beautiful free of all that body hair. And you do want to be
beautiful for me, don't you Betty?”
“Yes Mistress Maisie,” he whispered, blushing red and staring
down at the carpet, trying to ignore his wife's corseted body, the
swell of her breasts bulging enticingly over the top of the corset's
cups, and and her bare sex framed by the straps of her garters. “I
want to be pretty for you.”
Maisie sighed, putting her fingers under Betty's chin, forcing his
head up until he had to look into her green eyes. “You never
understood how terrible it is being a woman,” she said softly, “The
constant shortness of breath from tight corsetry; having to check
your seams are straight; feet aching in high heels; the constant
rustling of your petticoat; being treated like a pretty little doll
by men. It's 1962, Betty – the world is changing, but I couldn't
wait. I wanted to teach you a lesson, and make you my pretty sissy.”
She pouted, running her hand down his throat, across the front busk
of the corset, and then cupped his balls, brushing the cage around
his cock with her knuckles. “You don't hate me for this, do you?”
Betty whimpered as his cock hardened the little it could in the
chastity device, filling all the space and bulging against the metal,
not even half-erect and completely constrained. The touch of
Maisie's hand on his balls drove him wild, and the soft mocking tone
in her voice cut to the core of him. He did hate his wife for taking
this kind of control of him, for the utter humiliation and
frustration that his every moment was filled with now, and most of
all for locking his manhood in the cruel cage. However, much as he
wanted to, there was a terrible dark pleasure inside him at times,
when his wife was reaching a climax under his tongue, or when she had
used the massive strap-on to fuck him senseless.
“I don't hate you,” Betty whispered, closing his eyes with shame.
“But please, Mistress Maisie, could you...” He broke off, not
daring to finish the sentence.
“Could I what, Betty?” Maisie's voice was gentle and encouraging
as she gently caressed the base of his balls, running her fingertips
across the steel ring that anchored the cock cage in place. “What
do you want me to do?”
“Please be a little less cruel,” he finished, his voice barely
above a whisper. “You don't have to tease me so much, Mistress.”
Removing her hand from his balls, Maisie stepped back, looking Betty
up and down and grinned wickedly. “If you stop enjoying it, Betty,
I'll stop doing it.” As Betty moaned with disappointment, Maisie
picked up a pair of sheer black panties, dripping with white lace
ruffles. “Once I've got you all dressed up, we can talk about this
further, but I think you enjoy this a lot more than you let on.”
She handed Betty the panties, and he obediently stepped into them,
pulling them up and shivering with pleasure as the soft nylon fabric
of the panties brushed against his stockinged legs. Closing his
eyes, Betty tugged them up over his locked cock, whimpering softly as
the sheer material brushed against his caged manhood. The panties
were full-cut high-waisted panties of a sheer black nylon, leaving
the steel of his chastity device visible through the thin material.
The leg holes of the panties were trimmed with a layer of white lace
ruffles, and there were four tiers of frilly ruffles across the
bottom.
“Oh they look just darling!”
Maisie exclaimed excitedly, giggling a little. She ran her
fingertips across the front of the panties, caressing the slight
bulge of the steel cage, and Betty stifled a gasp, his cock straining
once more against the rigid constraints of the device. “Don't even
try to say that you don't like wearing these, sweetheart! I can tell
your sissy penis is throbbing down there!”
With a wink, Maisie turned away, sorting through the feminine finery
on the bed before lifting a black net petticoat with three tiers of
white lace-trimmed fabric cascading down from a high waist. Betty
knew that the petticoat would make whatever dress he had to wear over
it stand out, but he of course had no choice but to take the rustling
item from his wife's outstretched hands and carefully step into it.
Pulling the petticoat up, he settled it around his corseted waist,
feeling the net brush against his thighs. The petticoat came down to
mid thigh, but flared out wide, with layers upon layers of netting,
each layer ending in a frilly of scratchy white lace.
“Do a twirl, Betty.” Maisie's
order was spoken in a gentle voice, but with a firmness behind it
that made Betty nervous. Obediently, Betty spun on the spot, raising
to his toes and rapidly turning around several times, the petticoat
flaring high and wide, exposing his stockinged thighs. Dizzy, he
staggered a little then straightened up, humiliated by having to
perform for his wife. “Well, I think you did that well, but I bet
once I get you properly uniformed, I'll have to train you to curtsey
like a real maid.”
Betty stood waiting, half-dressed in sissy clothes, watching his
wife's curvaceous bottom as she bent over the bed. When Maisie
straightened, she was holding a pair of long black satin evening
gloves, which she passed to him. Sliding his hands into the slippery
satin of the gloves, Betty pulled them up over his arms, smoothing
the fabric down so that it clung like a second skin to his hair-free
skin. The gloves came to just above his elbow and as he twisted his
arms, glancing down at them, he felt a shiver of desire run through
his body. As a young man, he'd loved the sight of a glamorous woman
in long gloves, and on several occasions had persuaded his wife to
give him a gloved handjob after a formal event. Now, of course,
those days were long gone, and there was no chance of his wife
caressing him in that way, with or without gloves!
“And this is your uniform for
today, Betty!” His wife's voice interrupted his reverie, and he
blinked, focussing on the black and white frilled concoction that she
was holding up for him. It was a French maid's uniform, a ridiculous
over the top parody of the kind of uniform that their own housemaid,
Ramona, wore. It screamed that the person who wore it was a sissy,
and would never be worn by a real woman outside of a pornographic
photo shoot. The uniform was glistening black satin, with short
puffed sleeves, gathered with white lace. It had a high frilled
neckline, rows of lace curving across the bodice, and a very high
waistline, making it look almost childish in style. The skirt was
short, and Betty was sure that it would barely cover the full
petticoat, meaning that if he bent over, his panties would be on
display.
Unzipping the dress, Maisie helped Betty put it on, assisting him in
pushing his gloved arms through the short puffy sleeves, settling the
soft fabric against him. “This is cut to fit a girl with a waist
the size of yours in the corset. If you weren't tight-laced, it
wouldn't even fit!” Maisie giggled, “Of course, given time I'll
get your waist down even smaller!” Maisie patted the dress down
over the petticoat, a good three inches of the petticoat's lacy
frills showing below the hem of the dress, and the ruffles of lace at
the high neck brushing against Betty's chin. Going behind Betty,
Maisie zipped the dress up, the satin clinging to Betty's corseted
waist and the cups filled out by his fake breasts. Tweaking at the
sleeves, Maisie pulled the gathered fabric down until each sleeve
ended just below where Betty's gloves began, leaving him completely
covered top to toe in sissy clothing except for his face, and the gap
between the frilly legs of his panties and his stocking tops.
“Just a few items left now,
darling!” Maisie's bright and perky breezy manner was driving
Betty crazy – his wife was acting like this was all normal, even
though he was standing in their bedroom dressed as a sissy French
maid, forced to obey her every instruction. An apron was the next
part of the outfit, made of white satin with a pleated frill around
the edge and long wide straps which were soon tied tightly around his
waist in a large bow.
Kneeling in front of him, his Mistress helped him into a pair of
stiletto heeled court shoes, leaving him teetering on the six inch
spikes. As he swayed, getting used to the feeling of his stockinged
feet being forced into a high arch, Maisie ran her hands up the back
of his legs, tracing the seams of the stockings. “I can understand
why you loved to see me in heels,” she said thoughtfully, looking
up at him from where she knelt. “It really has a quite wonderful
effect on your legs, and forces you to stand in such an adorably
feminine pose. Is that how you feel, Betty?”
Betty nodded, his legs aching already and toes sore in the narrow
shoes. “Yes Mistress,” he replied, “They force a woman to push
out her bottom and arch her back a little to push out her breasts.”
“Not just a woman, Betty,”
Maisie said, standing up and looking into his eyes, “A sissy girl
like you as well.”
“Yes Mistress Maisie,” he
muttered, blushing and holding his gloved hands in front of his
tightly corseted waist, nestled against the fabric of the dress and
petticoat, lowering his eyes a little.
Reaching up, Maisie settled a black and white frilled cap on top of
his wig, pinning it into place, then stepped back and smiled. “And
that's your outfit complete! Sit down in front of the mirror and
I'll get you made up, then you can start your chores!” Betty sat
down as ordered on the leather upholstered stool, his stockinged
knees together primly. His Mistress opened the drawers containing
her cosmetics and began the final stages of transforming him into a
complete sissy. A pale foundation was soon applied to his face and
neck, followed by a hint of blush on his cheeks, and a gleaming baby
pink lipstick. Slightly reddish brown eyeshadow followed by black
mascara completed the makeup, and soon Betty was staring at himself
in the mirror, once again barely recognising the sissy girl that he
saw.
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