Threshold of Desire Ch. 4

Chapter 4: Maid service

Three weeks had passed since our last 'special' time, yet it still angered me when I thought about your transgressions that evening. Your first transgression, of 'forgetting' to shave your face as directed, had earned you a fitting punishment – being made to shave your legs, balls, and pubes as a 'reminder.' But the second transgression had been far worse. It certainly was bad enough that your had jerked off into the crotch of a purloined pair of my panties, but it was unconscionable that they were so new that I'd not yet worn them even once, and unforgivable that you had been wanking instead of obediently following instructions. Although you had been punished that night, you would be paying for your misjudgment that evening for some time to come.

In the three weeks since then, I resolved that you should have to endure additional suffering to win back my favor and good graces. I had thought a long time about suitable ways for you to serve your penance, and this week you would find out how intense that torment would be.

It began on Wednesday morning, when I called you to me and asked you once again to 'help' me getting dressed. By now you well understood what 'help' meant, that you were to attentively see to my needs as I dressed. Once more I sat at my dressing table in my silk robe after my shower.

"Darling, be a dear and fetch me a clean pair of panties. I think I'll wear peach-colored ones today."

You knew to fetch them from the dresser, bring them to me, kneel and hold them out as I stepped into them, and then slide the soft silky nylon up over my hips.

"Good. This is the first time I've worn this new color. New panties are always so nice! How do I look in them?" I asked you teasingly. I twirled around to let you have an eyeful of my voluptuous figure, snuggly clad in the feminine object of your fetish. It was so easy to rivet your attention to me.

"You look wonderful. You're always so beautiful."

"Yes, I think I do look nice in them. This color is very flattering, very feminine in an understated way without being too obvious or flashy. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, they are very lovely, and very feminine."

With a mischievous grin I said, "I think they are just 'peachy' don't you?" I stepped up to you as you still knelt before me, so close that your face was inches from my sex. I whispered salaciously to you, "Mmmmmm, and we all know that just below the soft, fuzzy skin of the peach is such succulent, delicious sweetness! So yummy! You do like peaches, don't you, honey? Peaches and cream?"

It was such sport to tease you like this, and so easy to overwhelm you with saucy references to my silky panties and juicy pussy. The teasing always awakened your fetishistic desires and compulsions, and made you so tractable, easy to manipulate. I loved the power that it gave me, and the freedom to do pretty much as I wished. It aroused me to tease you to such erotic highs and torment you to such humiliating lows. It always made me want more, to go further and push you past the limits of both. That's what I craved.

It was time now for a little torment. I stepped back from you and admonished, "You know, my peachy, creamy panties wouldn't be so lovely if you had violated them like you did my dusky rose pair, now would they?" Oh.That. You were hoping beyond all hope that I'd forgotten that little incident three weeks ago. But I hadn't. Instead, my ire had been simmering ever since.

"You remember, don't you? You beat off with them and soiled them with your come before I'd worn them even once." You really didn't want to be reminded and fell quiet, trying to lay low and not provoke my thinking about it.

"You know, you still owe me for that little stunt. It's going to take a whole lot now to earn my trust and approval. It's going to take you quite a while to pay off the debt from that little fuck-up."

You looked down, dejected, "I know."

"You do want to make it up to me don't you? And earn my favor back?"

"Oh, yes, I do," you perked up.

"Good. You can earn a little forgiveness by working very hard to a good 'helper,' my very personal maidservant. You know how much I like you to pamper me like that."

Your face brightened up, "I'd like so much to make it up to you. I know how disappointed you were in me."

"Well, why don't you get started right now and go fetch me a pair of pantyhose. There is a nice new pair of gray Wolfords in the third drawer down."

You brought the package of new hose and opened them for me. You knew better now how to roll the hose up before carefully stretching and smoothing them up my legs. You were extra careful this time as you knew that these were an expensive pair that you didn't want to ruin. I thought about how I generally liked the pampering and specifically was enjoying how it stressed you out to be worried about ruining a pair of premium hose. I'd have to wear fancy hose more often. As you pulled the pantyhose up you could see and feel how nicely they slid up over the slick finish of the panties, over my ample bottom, and it made your mouth dry and your pulse quicken. I then had you fetch a pair of my more conservative mid-heel shoes while I finished dressing. When you came back I had you ritually kiss each foot three times before slipping on my shoes.

"Very good! I can see your really making a sincere effort to serve as my maid. Maybe we'll be able to 'play' a little tonight. Would you like that?"

"Oh, yes! I would love that so much!"

"Very well then, be ready for me at 6 PM. And don't forget to give yourself a nice, close, thorough shave. Your face has got to be nice and smooth to be allowed to go everywhere you'd like it to."

On Wednesdays I got off work at a normal time and so that evening I arrived shortly after 6 PM. As instructed you were waiting, naked and kneeling, in the foyer. It had been a long three weeks since the last time, and you were anticipating with an expectant desperation the opportunity to worship my panties again.

I entered and locked the door, once again ignoring you as I scanned through the mail and hung up my coat. Finally I stood before you, hands on hips. You were so ready for me to lift my dress over your head as I had done before and tell you to ask or beg for the privilege of worshipping my temple of Venus. I stood a long time looking down at you. Gradually, a look of mild scorn crossed my face.

"I'm disappointed. I thought I told you to shave."

You were obviously surprised, "But I did! I just shaved not more than a half-hour ago."

"Unfortunately, I don't think you understood everything I meant when I told you to shave. I really expected you to shave your legs again as a 'reminder.' And also your balls and pubes again."

"But that was to remind me to shave my face, and I did remember this time!" you whined.

"Yes, that's true enough. But you're forgetting that that punishment was given before I knew why you 'forgot' to shave, that you didn't forget at all, you were busy wanking into my new panties instead. Under the circumstances, I don't think it's unreasonable at all for you to keep yourself shaven all over, so that you are ready whenever our special nights might be. Don't you agree?"

Not having much room for argument you answered in a resigned sigh, "I guess so. I see your point."

"Well then, it's settled. You'd better go take care of it right now." I stood and watched you get up from your knees and go off to the bathroom to shave again. This time I wouldn't be supervising you, as I expected you to be proficient by now.

When you were all done you came looking for me and found me in the bedroom sitting in the wingback chair in my robe. As you knelt down before me you saw that I still wore the gray stockings, and presumably the peach panties. Your anticipation was back again, and all consuming. You wanted it so very badly. Peaches and cream.

I looked you over and said, " Well, that's much better now. I like to see you shaved like that for me. You know, when your legs are shaved they look just like a girl's. I can't tell they belong to a boy! Isn't that funny?" You didn't find it funny at all. It was embarrassing to be shaved and humiliating to hear me compare you to a girl. "And there are so many things we can do with that. Things I can do with you. And to you. It's really quite lovely."

You just knelt quietly, staring like a patiently begging dog, and biding your time.

"It's too bad you took so long, though. I'm not really in the mood anymore tonight. Maybe if we try again tomorrow night you'll do better." And with that, I patted you on the head and then walked out of the room.

You were devastated. This had never happened before, to get so close and then stop like that. We had always had sex of some sort before this, however tormenting and twisted it might be. And you knew that the decision was final, there was no consideration for an appeal. It was entirely mine to make, and any request or attempt to influence that decision would have harsh consequences – primarily further postponement and denial of any sex.

The remainder of that evening was to be ordinary, with no further mention of what had just transpired.

The next morning, Thursday, I was up before you, to get ready for an early morning meeting. I didn't request any 'help' that morning, and you hardly caught a glimpse of me getting ready, though you wanted to. You were eager to see if my lingerie held a clue of your fate that night. It looked to you as though I had dressed about the same as before, in peach panties, gray hose and mid-size heels, but with a different skirt and blouse.

You had all but given up trying to read the signs when I stopped while going out the door, and gave you the terse instructions, "Be ready at six, and shave well this time."

Thursday evening my arrival was similar to the night before, with me ignoring your naked, kneeling presence while I went through the mail and put my coat away. Once again I stood before you, with hands on hips. You were dying to worship me now. All that you had been able think about since you'd knelt down to wait for me was how much you wanted to worship me, and partake of my rapturous peaches and cream.

"Did you shave?"

"Yes, I did."

"All over? Your legs, balls and pubes?"

"Yes, just like you told me to, everywhere, freshly shaved tonight."

"Good. We're making some progress. I think that you're ready for the next step."

Next step? Your mind raced with furtive unspoken wishes – please, please, please put your dress over my head, please, please let me kiss your panties now, please, I'll beg if you want me too – all from those inner voices of desperation.

"You are following instructions much better now, aren't you. Into the bedroom with you!"

Your anticipation was in high gear now, blathering silently in your mind – Oh, yes! Oh God! Finally! I can't wait another moment! I'll do anything, please, make me lick you tonight. Please, oh, I'm so desperate!

I directed you to sit on the corner of the bed, like you used to do long ago, back when our games were limited to teasing. As I went to the closet you imagined that I was going to put on a little show, and maybe wear something provocative for you, like I used to do sometimes. Maybe your penance was finally over now.

When I returned I was still fully dressed, as before, but now held something in my hand. Standing over you and smiling down at you with very soft and sympathetic eyes, I held up a pair of pastel yellow panties.

"Do you think these are pretty?"

You thought, 'Oh yes, yes! She's going to wear them for me!' and said, "Yes, they are pretty! And very feminine too! You'll look wonderful in them!"

"Oh, darling, you've misunderstood again. I want you to wear these."

You were completely unprepared for that. "What? You've got to be joking!" you said, and thought 'She can't be serious!' The idea of it was so emasculating, so humiliating.

I looked you directly in the eye and spoke to you in a very even, controlled tone that showed my steely resolve. "I want you to wear them. And wear them without any whining or squawking. To show me how sorry you are for soiling my new ones."

"But it's so humiliating!"

"You should feel humiliated, that's the point. It's to punish you. You still have to earn my good graces back, and to do that you should be punished. It will remind you of what a naughty boy you were."

"Isn't there some other way? And do they have to be yellow?"

"What's wrong with yellow? It's a perfect color for you. It symbolizes what a coward you were to be so dishonest with me. They are a very appropriate color for your punishment panties."

You wondered how long you would be paying off this debt. There was no way around it. You might as well take it all on now. The sooner you did, the sooner you might be done with it. Very quietly you gave in, "OK. OK, I'll wear them." I handed you the panties and watched expectantly as you put them on, pulling the slippery satiny material up your smoothly shaved legs. It stimulated your fetishistic feelings and you couldn't help getting a hard-on.

"Does it embarrass you to wear your yellow punishment panties?"

"Yes, it's terribly embarrassing."

"Good. You should be embarrassed – after all, a grown man wearing such girlish panties. If people knew they would think you were such a wimpy pervert. Saaay, if its so embarrassing how come your little clitty-dick is hard?"

"I. . . ., I . . ., don't know, I . . ."

"Is it because you like to shave your legs and wear girlish panties? Do they feel nice against your smooth skin? Or maybe you like being humiliated. Is that it? Or perhaps it's a little of all three/"

"No, I . . ., it's not that I want to, it's just that . . ., well, I just can't help it."

"You can't help it. Ah yes, help. That reminds me of the other half of your penance tonight. The first part, for punishment, is that you have to wear your girly yellow panties all evening, to remind you of your shame. The second part, for atonement, is that you will be given an opportunity to make it up to me, to try to win back my favor. For that you will be allowed the privilege of pampering me all evening. You must learn that the only relief for your burden of shame is to accept your punishment and show me that you are capable of devoting yourself entirely to my desires, without any thought for you own. Only then will I consider 'playing' with you again."

You knew that there'd be no other way to go forward, so you had to agree. At least you appreciated that there was a way out. "Thank you. Thank you for giving me a chance to atone for my errors. I want so much to be forgiven, so it could be like it was before."

"Do you think you are ready to do that, pamper me all night with all manner of feminine indulgences?"

Your body relaxed into resignation as you said simply, "Yes."

"Good. You know, it's fitting that you're wearing panties tonight, because you're going to learn a few lessons tonight in feminine grooming. Tonight I want you to be my panty maid; my sissy panty maid. Are you prepared to do that for me?"

You knelt before me, as smooth as a girl, in your humiliating, yellow punishment panties, denied your deepest cravings, and being coerced into being a sissy maid for an entire evening. There was no resistance left, your will had been completely broken. All the hopes and expectations of your own desire had died away, and been replaced with a gnawing desperation. And now you were faced with deeper humiliation and prolonged servitude as your only path to salvation. There was little alternative left but to accept these terms. You had no choice if you ever wanted to experience the rapture of your fetish again. All you could do was nod your agreement.

"Let's get started then, shall we. We'll have a little girl fun in a minute, but first I'd like to have a nice foot massage so I can relax. I've been on my feet all day." I sat back in my favorite wingback chair and held my right foot out to you. You took it in your lap and proceeded for the next half-hour to massage first one foot, then the other, very thoroughly and adeptly through my stockings, while I occasionally uttered a soft 'ooooh' or 'mmmmm.'

Finally, I indicated it was time to stop and said "That was nice, you did that very well! I should really have you learn more how to care for my feet. Maybe I should have you learn how to do pedicures for me. That would be nice, don't you think?"

"Uhn-Huhn."

"But I don't need one now, so we'll do that some other time. Right now I'd like you to learn how to do my nails for me. Go get the red box that's on the bureau and bring it here."

When you returned I had already removed my pantyhose and was sitting in the chair with my foot propped on the low stool. I directed you to sit at my feet and open the box, which was full of all sorts of things for foot care, including a little rack that held ten different colors of nail polish. For the next hour I gave you detailed instructions on how to paint my toenails, and coached you closely, giving you guidance and pointing out your mistakes. After each coat of polish on each nail you were to blow gently on them to dry them. While you did this I smiled contentedly and remembered back to when I had first thought of doing this, so many months ago. Finally they were all done, each with two coats of a deep burgundy red and a clear topcoat.

I pulled my skirt up to my knees and admired my nails as rolled my feet back and forth , "Very lovely! Aren't they pretty? I'll have to let my sissy maid do my nails more often."

I picked up the little rack of nail polishes and held it atop the bunched skirt in my lap as I looked through them. You figured that I'd have you do my fingernails next, perhaps in another color. For the first time that evening you got a peek up my skirt, enough to tell that I was wearing peach-colored panties again. You tried your best not to look, tried to be good, but it was so hard.

I held out three different colored bottles of polish, in pink, bright red, and a pale peach and asked, "Which of these do you think is prettier?"

Without hesitation you answered, "Peach." Your mind was still back on the panties.

"Good choice. I think the others would have clashed with the yellow of your panties," as I held the bottle of peach polish out to you.

Your mind whooshed back from the panties to what I just said and did a double take. "What? Did you just say . . ., oh no, not that! Please, not that!" You looked at the little bottle of polish with dread as the panic started to rise up.

"What's the matter, now? It's just a little polish to make them pretty, and besides, you need the practice, it will do you good."

"Not that. Please! Please don't make me! Please!"

"Oh, but I want you to, so you must!" you said with a smile, "A sissy maid should have pretty toes."

Tears started to roll down your face, and I said, in the most supportive, nurturing way, "That's OK, there, there, its OK for my sissy maid to cry. Go ahead and let it out. Let out all that shame and regret," and you buried your face in my lap and let the tears pour out as hugged you and kissed your head. As your breathing settled down you took my comforting to signify a reprieve and that I might finally relent. Not so.