A Sissy at her Service

The following is a work of erotic fiction and is in no way meant to represent real people or events. It is completely written and owned by me, OfStarsAndDreams.

Contents: F/m. Fetish/BDSM. Consensual. Domestic service. Service Submission. Cleaning house. Sexual slavery. Nonsexual slavery. House slave, rich Mistress. Crossdressing/trap. Lolita fashion (on male, Stockings/Heels/Panties/Long Hair). Sissy. Complete dependence. Humiliation (mild to moderate). Cuckoldry (light, mentioned). Denial. Orgasm denial. Public display (as sissy). Oral (m on F). Chastity (mentioned). Milking (mentioned, not in scene). Affection.

Let's begin!

*****

Soap suds dripped onto the floor as Adam plunged a sponge into a large wash bucket, dragging it across the floor again. He was on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor of the bathroom, making sure the tiles shown with a sparkling finish. His hands were beginning to ache, but it didn't bother him really - anything in the name of pleasing his Mistress. He was, however, thankful that this was the last task he had to do today. He'd been working since he got up doing errands and chores - the ones he'd already had scheduled for the day as well as any that his Mistress texted him during her absence at her job, such as picking up dry cleaning or looking up client info or even finding the answers to seemingly inane questions using the web. This was how it went most days. When he was lucky he would even have some time to himself to tend to his own hobbies. No, that wasn't right. He was lucky every day. He got to stay at home in this amazing (and expensive) house while Mistress made lots of money that she could use to pamper him with clothes and toys. It was a small thing, really, to do these things for her in exchange, right?

He was just about to dunk the sponge again when he heard a chirrup from his cellphone. His brain fizzled and popped in a brief panic. Was it really so late? How had he not noticed? He glanced down at his work clothes - torn cut off jeans, a mangled and hole riddled crop top, and his stomach lurched. There wasn't much time now. He fretted very briefly over the wash bucket, then opted to hastily shove it into the bathtub to clean up later. There'd be much more hell to pay if he was found in an unpresentable state when Mistress came home than if his laxness with the bucket were discovered.

Adam chided himself as he began to undress, stripping and depositing his dirtied clothes in a hamper in the nearby laundry room, though not the one where he's put he's Mistress's clothes from yesterday that she'd so casually left all over the bedroom floor (he understood, she was a very busy woman). He hurried to his prep room, not even bothering to grab a robe. He glanced at his phone as he made his way across the house and frowned, opting to place a food order. He made sure it was one of Mistress's favorites, or he'd be scolded for not having something hand-made ready for her when she got home.

With the call finished he threw open the closet doors and began grabbing things from hangers and drawers. He slid into a pair of delicate lace panties, carefully tucking his cock into it. He wasn't incredibly large when big, as Mistress was keen to point at all the time, and he was especially small when flaccid, so he usually made due with women's panties. They were prettier and obviously came in a wider variety. Next came the stockings and garter belt, which slid smoothly over his legs. Adam thanked the stars that he was recently waxed clean, or his life would certainly be ruined. He picked out an adorable little lolita dress, with floofy bows and plenty of ruffles and a strikingly short skirt. He had to admit liked the way the fabric felt on his bare skin.

When he first tried one on, it seemed a lifetime ago now, he had been so embarrassed! Watching himself in the mirror had caused him to turn twenty shades of red and his Mistress, then girlfriend, had laughed at him profusely for how awkward he was in it. But it was what she really wanted, and Adam simply couldn't say no to her. Even when she made him dress that way in front of her friends - and even his friends, in the end - he never was able to tell her no. Even when she got all of their mutual friends together for a cocktail party and she made him lift up his skirt so they could all laugh at his pathetic dick all wrapped up in lace and bells. That was around the time he quit his job. He'd been too embarrassed to ever set foot in the office again, and he'd had to depend on Mistress to take care of him full time - which had only increased her demands of him.

But now he saw the truth in it, these dresses really did suit him. He was much happier as an adorable little sissy as he ever was as a "man". He'd always been bad at being a man, he never quite fit the expectations or said the right things, and he was loathsomely bad at sex, but Mistress made his life so much easier. All he had to do was what she said and it made her happy. Sure sometimes she might fuck a real man to make up for what he couldn't do for her, but he knew that in the end she loved him the best, because he was the one always waiting at home for her, and that's what really mattered.

He adjusted his sleeves again and sat down at his makeup counter. He carefully applied the layers that he used to make up his face in the way Mistress preferred. A light foundation to cover any blemishes, lipstick, eyeshadow, and some fake lashes to improve where nature failed him. But not too much, as it would be unbecoming to look whorish. Then he let his hair down. He used to keep it so short, in an almost militaristic crew cut - maybe some desperate attempt to cling to his failing machismo - but now it was long and, when he took out the rollers, fell in long luxurious blonde curls over the shoulders of his dress. He looked almost like a doll, and he was momentarily proud.

He pulled into his heels - special ordered, for his larger feet - just as he heard the doorbell. He answered it and demurely retrieved dinner from the delivery lady. He noticed the way she looked at his outfit, and he was loathe to realize he'd begun blushing, and could feel a faint stirring in his panties. She even flipped up his skirt as he turned away from her, but she of course passed it off as an accident. Frazzled, Adam closed the door with a heeled foot and went to set the table.

He was just placing the glass of sparkling water when his Mistress sauntered in, dropping her coat and purse on the floor next to the door and leaving her shoes strewn across the hall. "Oh what a day," she sighed. "That stupid whore Amelia just can't keep her clients straight. I spent hours fixing her stupid mistakes. I was afraid that cockshit Robert would have a heart attack. It's giving me a tension headache I swear."

"I'm so sorry to hear that Mistress. Here, I have dinner laid out for you. Is there anything else I can get you? Aspirin?" Adam knelt before her, head low, curls nearly touching the ground.

"I'm not hungry just yet. I need to relax a minute." Abruptly she hiked up her dress and pulled off her panties, flopping onto the couch without flourish or comment. She spread her legs wide, revealing her neat pussy, with it's perfect labia and trim hair. "Give me a massage, help sooth these muscles." Adam pulled out a handkerchief and wiped off the lipstick he'd so carefully applied - he'd learned that lesson the hard way. He went to her, kneeling in front of her, delicately spreading her lips with his hands.

"Such a good little sissy," she cooed. Adam drug his tongue up the length of her pussy, then sent into slow spirals around her clit. Not directly at first, but when he could feel the heat of her body rising, the swelling of her slick flesh, it was then that he rolled his tongue over her soft nub. He could do this for hours, but fortunately his Mistress was one who came swiftly and often. He delicately took two fingers and slid them into her now very wet hole, crooking his fingers slightly to run them along the inside of her. Her moans told him he'd found her sweet spot. He wanted so badly to touch himself, to grab his now hard cock and jerk it while he ate her out. But that was strictly forbidden. His pathetic cock was dirty. Some years ago she'd decided Adam would only ever have orgasms when she wanted to. At least he no longer had to wear those chafing chastity belts. Her writhing moans were getting him so god damn hot though.

He briefly imagined fucking her, his cock pushing into her slick entrance, pounding into her tight hot hole like he did when they first met, but he chased the thought away, his head filling with shame at even considering it. He doubled his efforts, and his Mistress came in a wave of spasms, filling his mouth with her hot juice. He was so glad he made he happy.

She leaned forward and grabbed his tight ass, running her hands up under his skirt. "You've been such a good boy. I think tonight I'll even let you have a milking session." His heart leaped. "But first, a quick shower and then dinner. Adam sat in a blissful haze as his Mistress went off to the bathroom, but his heart sank as he heard the door clicked and he suddenly remembered the still full wash bucket. He heard her voice echoing down the hall, filling him with dread. "Scratch that, no milking for you. In fact, I fear a spanking might be in order." Adam sighed. Maybe he'd get to cum next week.