Chrissie

After surveying the size of the driveway, I decided to park my Mercedes in the street to allow room for the two large new vehicles that would require spots once Rebecca and Karl returned home from the restaurant. Then, with a sigh, I squared my shoulders and got started on the fucked-up lot next door.

The weed-choked, litter-strewn parcel wasn't part of the property my masters were renting, but Karl had said he was tired of looking at it, and since nobody from the city had responded to his complaints, he'd told me to clean it up. It was a huge endeavor that was going to take several hours to finish, which is why my masters had wanted me to report to their house early Saturday morning. Those plans changed once they decided to go to the dealerships, but my masters still wanted everything done.

It began to rain, and I found out the hard way that it's nearly impossible to pull wet weeds bare-handed. Since I didn't have the key to the shed where the work gloves were stored, I did the best I could, getting soaked in the process.

After about an hour-and-a-half, Karl's truck pulled into the driveway, and he dashed through the pouring rain into his house without saying a word, even though he'd glanced my way and we'd made eye contact. I hung my head and kept working. About 20 minutes later, I spotted Rebecca's stylish new SUV turn onto the block. After she parked, she also ran to the house, but to my great joy, she paused in the doorway and yelled out to me: "dry off and come inside."

I didn't have anything with which to dry myself, so I stood on the porch wringing out my shirt and shaking my head like a dog to expel the excess water. When I was no longer dripping, I used my hand to slick back my hair and ventured into the living room, where Rebecca and Karl were relaxed on their couch, smoking a joint and watching television.

"I feel like celebrating." Rebecca smiled up at me. "Make me a nice, strong screwdriver, Chrissie."

Karl scratched his balls. "Beer and a shot of Jack for me, sissy."

"Coming right up."

With as much enthusiasm as I could muster, I scooted into the kitchen to fix my masters' drinks, feeling like I was an important part of this little family we seemed to be developing, even if I was the perpetual flunky.

I served Rebecca's drink first before moving to Karl's side of the couch and setting his beer and shot glass on the table in front of him. He picked up the shot, clinked it against Rebecca's glass, and the two of them formally celebrated their new vehicles. I was surprised that my angel downed her whole drink in one gulp.

Karl handed me his empty shot glass. "It's raining too hard for you to keep going on that damned lot, so you'll just have to come back here tomorrow and get it done while we're at the fish fry, I guess."

"Of course, sir."

"Shit, we should just get you your own key." Karl shrugged. "It ain't like you're gonna steal anything."

"Oh, never sir."

He leered. "And you're not gonna rummage through the dirty clothes, sniffing my wife's underwear?"

"Why would he need to do that? He's got a pair of his own." Rebecca's eyes danced. "Do you sniff the panties I gave you, Chrissie?"

I forced out the words: "Y-yes, Mrs. Martin."

Karl smirked. "Hey, sissy, you want to listen to me and Becca again tonight? Because I definitely plan on tearing that little pussy up."

Rebecca slapped his arm. "Have some damn class. You're such a pig."

He chuckled. "Chrissie don't think so — do you, Chrissie?"

"Oh, no, sir. Um, thank you very much, sir."

My master shrugged. "Hey, like I said, you do good, you get rewards. You been a real good slave for Rebecca and me. That truck's sweeter than a motherfucker. Good job, Chrissie."

"Um, uh, thank you so much, sir." Here I was thanking him for the privilege of buying him a $85,000 F350, knowing that his little "good job, Chrissie" was as close to a thank-you as I was ever going to get.

After serving refills, I returned to cleaning the house while the lovebirds chilled on the couch, sipping alcohol and smoking herb. By the time I had the kitchen spotless and was working on the bathroom, they were feeling no pain.

I was scrubbing the toilet when Karl came running into the room unzipping his pants. "Move, Chrissie, I gotta go." I backed away from the commode just in time for Karl to brush past me and release a firehose stream. I knelt there with my head bowed, listening to the tinkling.

When he finished, Karl zipped back up and chuckled. "You're gonna want to get that, Chrissie," he said, jerking his thumb at the yellow dewdrops that dotted the floor and toilet rim. He strolled away, leaving it to me to flush the toilet.

By the time I'd finished in the bathroom, my masters were stoned and horny, judging from their hot-and-heavy activity on the couch. I wasn't sure what to do, so I stood before them in my frillies with my head bowed and hands folded in front of me, floating on a wave of submissive bliss.

After they snogged for a good 20 minutes, they unlocked lips and sucked down more alcohol. Rebecca was pretty lit as she sneered up at me, shaking her head and chuckling.

"Look at you in your little maid's dress, Chrissie. Do you like being our little sissy maid?"

"Y-yes, Mrs. Martin. T-thank you."

"You should probably thank Mr. Martin, too, Chrissie."

"T-thank you, sir."

Karl sucked his teeth. "No problem. It's good to have a little sissy around."

Rebecca twirled her finger. "Dance for us in your little dress, Chrissie."

"Um ... uh, d-dance?"

"Yes, dance." My Princess fiddled with her cellphone for a second before it started blasting the song "I'm Every Woman," prompting Karl to spit out his beer.

Rebecca clapped. "Go, Chrissie, do a little dance for us."

I felt like a goddamn fool as I swayed back and forth to the beat.

Rebecca shook her head. "Come on, Chrissie, get into it. Be our little ballerina."

Karl added: "You got to do better than that if you think you're gonna get to listen to us in the bedroom tonight, now."

That spurred me into action, and I started bumping and grinding like a coked-up stripper while my stoned masters sat on the couch dying laughing. When the song was over, Karl said "good sissy," and then stood and lifted Rebecca by the hand. "Come on to the bedroom, Chrissie, and I'll give you your little reward."

My heart pounded as I followed my masters to their love nest. I stood nearby focusing on the carpet while they both undressed. As Rebecca slipped into bed, I watched Karl pluck his boxers from the floor.

"Chrissie, I know you done bought us the new cars and all, and that's all good," my master slurred. "But if you're gonna be our slave, we can't have you getting spoiled now, can we?"

"Uh, n-no, sir."

"No, we can't. So, tonight it's still listening only." He pressed his boxer shorts onto the wall. "Come on, Chrissie. You know what to do; hands on your head."

As I moved to obey, I heard a peal of feminine laughter behind me.

"OMG, Karl, you are SO MEAN. Poor Chrissie; I know you don't want to have to smell that pig's dirty underwear. I'm sorry he's such an asshole all the time."

She sounded drunk and bemused, not sorry. But with my nose pressed against her husband's boxers, I replied, "It's okay, Mrs. Martin."

Karl patted me on the head. "Little Chrissie likes my dirty drawers, don't you, Chrissie?"

"Of course, sir."

"See?" He smacked me in the ass, making me jump. "Now, stay there till I tell you to move, sissy."

"Y-yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Why I'd thanked him, I had no idea, but I had a lot of time to think about it, because after the sounds of my masters making love sent me into a submissive blackness for about a half-hour, the bedsprings eventually calmed down and were followed by snores.

Rebecca and Karl had gone to sleep. My big dilemma was whether to move or to obey the last order my master had given me, which was to stay put until told otherwise.

Of course, being a sissy slave, I decided to obey. I did lower my arms from time to time to give my aching shoulders a rest, and once in a while I'd stretch my neck while pressing Karl's boxers to the wall with my hand.

Otherwise, though, I held my position like a good slave all night long. I knew it would've been perfectly fine had I just slipped out of the bedroom after my masters crashed. Karl was so drunk, there was no way he'd have remembered what he'd ordered me to do. And Rebecca wouldn't have cared.

But where was the fun in being rational? Yes, I was martyring myself — because that's what sissy slaves do.

It was more than that, though. As hour after hour passed, I became overwhelmed by a deep desire to make my masters' world as perfect for them as humanly possible. I wanted them to wake up, see me standing there and realize that I would do anything, go to any lengths and suffer any hardship or indignity just to make them happy.

I stood in the dark bedroom with my hands on my head, pressing Karl's underwear against the wall with my nose, finally admitting it to myself:

I loved Rebecca. I loved Karl. I loved them.

Like a stray kitten who'd been rescued from a shelter, I felt I owed my very existence to my benevolent masters.

That feeling both thrilled me to death and scared the living shit out of me.

Part XIII

With my nose pressing Karl's boxers against the wall and my hands planted on my head, I had no concept of time, although I knew it was late when my masters finally started to stir because daylight had been streaming through the bedroom window for quite a while.

I listened to the mattress shifting, Karl's hacking and Rebecca's groaning.

Karl noticed me first. "What the fuck? What are you doing, Chrissie?"

"Um, sir, you ... you told me not to move last night, remember? But you fell asleep before I—"

"Ugh, keep your voice down, damn it; go get me some tomato juice," Rebecca hissed, her tone betraying her irritation.

"Um, right away, Mrs. Martin," I whispered, pulling my nose back and removing Karl's underwear from the wall. After folding them and setting them on the dresser, I scooted to the kitchen, my tail between my legs. I'd assumed my decision to stay put all night would've been greeted with satisfaction from my masters when they realized the depths of my dedication and obedience. While standing there for hours, I'd also fantasized that perhaps they'd even tease me a little about being such a compliant wimp, and that their taunts would stoke my submissive fires, making for an erotic morning.

Instead, I got the worst possible reaction; the hung-over Rebecca didn't think my stunt was cute at all. She wasn't honored, flattered or impressed — just annoyed. Making matters worse, there was only a tiny drop of tomato juice in the refrigerator, a sad reality which I reported to my scowling princess.

"Well, get me a glass of water and then change out of that stupid dress and run down to the 7Eleven and get more," she snapped. "And hurry up, Chrissie."

"Yes, Mrs. Martin. Right away, Mrs. Martin."

Karl yawned. "While you're out, why don't you stop at Top Dogg and pick us up a couple hot dogs and some chili fries?"

"Oh, good idea, something greasy for a hangover," Rebecca said.

After serving Rebecca's water and taking the initiative to also prepare a glass for Karl, I changed into street clothes and ducked into the bedroom one last time before leaving.

"Um, is it okay if I get myself something to eat, too?" I asked the reclining couple.

Rebecca waved her hand. "I don't care, Chrissie, hurry up."

It was still pouring when I headed outside. I muttered a curse, unhappy at the prospect of toiling all day in the overgrown lot next door without having slept, while also getting soaked to the bone. I dashed from the porch to my Mercedes, phoned in the Top Dogg order and hit the road, rubbing my eyes as I drove in an attempt to stay awake.

After picking up two large cans of tomato juice from the 7Eleven, I zoomed through the rain to the restaurant, where breakfast was ready for pickup. Within a half-hour of leaving the Martins' house, I was back with their order, which pleased my mistress.

"Wow, that was quick, good job, Chrissie," Rebecca said from the bedroom. Her compliment filled me with joy as I rushed to the kitchen, transferred their food onto plates and served them breakfast in bed. I sat on the floor and leaned against their mattress, enjoying my scrambled eggs and sausage out of the Styrofoam container, once again feeling like part of the family after what had been a tense start to the day.

Rebecca glanced out the window, chewing. "I bet Cyndy and Tom end up canceling that fish fry."

"I dunno; he's been pretty excited about it for a long time, so he'll wait until the last minute if he does cancel." Karl looked down at me. "Chrissie, if it don't stop raining by the time we're ready to leave, I guess you can just go on home and finish that damn lot another day."

My angel popped a chili fry into her mouth. "No, he's still got a whole bunch of cleaning to do; he never did finish because we left for the car dealers. Chrissie, it was so stupid for you to stand there all night like that."

"S-sorry."

"Yeah, well, next time something like that happens and we fall asleep, you need to leave and get your chores done. Understand?"

"Y-yes, Mrs. Martin ... I'm sorry, Mrs. Martin; it's just that Mr. Martin told me not to move until he said so, and—"

Rebecca showed me the hand. "Ugh, just shut up, Chrissie, you're giving me a pounding headache. Next time, just do your damn chores, okay?"

I lowered my eyes. "Yes, Mrs. Martin."

Sitting at the foot of their bed, I finished my breakfast in silence while above me on the mattress, my masters ate and watched TV. When they were done I collected their plates, washed them, and then got started on the chores I hadn't had the chance to do the previous evening. While I worked, my stoner masters stayed in bed chain-smoking doobies.

Because they were dealing with hangovers, I used the whiskbroom and dustpan instead of the noisy vacuum cleaner, although neither Rebecca nor Karl seemed to notice the sacrifice. It took about three hours to finish my chores, and by the time everything was done, the skies had cleared, Karl had confirmed with his buddy that the fish fry was indeed still a go, and he and Rebecca were in better spirits as they prepared to leave, their headaches having faded.

"The house looks good; you probably don't need to come over tomorrow," Rebecca said as I followed her and Karl outside. "So, I guess we'll see you Wednesday."

"Um ... yes, Mrs. Martin. Thank you, Mrs. Martin." Her edict had burned a hole into my soul, since it meant I likely wouldn't be seeing her for days, although she didn't appear to notice my anguish.

Karl waved his hand toward the jungle of a lot next door. "That should keep you busy for a while," he said. "Make sure you lock up the shed when you're done with the lawnmower and shit."

"Yes, sir," I said under my breath so neighbors wouldn't hear.

With that, Karl hopped into his new F350 while his wife, my angel, slipped into the passenger seat. A wave of submissive sadness washed over me as I watched the truck peel out of the driveway. With a sigh, I trudged to the Martins' shed to retrieve the needed tools, and then got started on what I knew was going to be one hell of a job.

As the hours under the humid sun crept by, with every bone aching and my body covered in sweat, I kept envisioning Rebecca and her husband relaxing at the fish fry, partying with their friends. I'd fume at the indignity of it all, and the resentment would threaten to overcome me — until my little dick would stir, and I'd glance around to ensure nobody was looking before sneaking myself a quick pick-me-up diddle. Then, the cycle would restart.

I finished just before sundown. The formerly overgrown lot looked like a pool table, and as I returned the lawnmower and tools to the shed and locked up, I felt absolutely exhausted, but also pretty damned proud of myself.

Having gotten zero sleep the night before, I conked out seconds after arriving home. I wasn't sure how long I'd been in dreamland when my phone rang. I was still groggy, but snapped out of it when I saw Rebecca's name.

"Hello?" I glanced at the clock, which showed 1:24am.

"Um, Chris ... c-can you help me?" She sounded like she was crying.

"OMG, of course, I can, Mrs. Martin — what's wrong?"

"It's Karl. He's ... he went crazy again. He ... we got in an argument at the fish fry, and he hit me after we got home ... and ... I just need to get away from him. Can ... can you get me a hotel room somewhere where he can't find me?"

"Yeah, I'm getting dressed now, and I'll find a place and call you right back."

"Okay. T-thanks, sweetie."

"Of course. Just one sec, okay? Call you right back."

As I scrambled around throwing on clothes, I was ashamed to admit to myself that while I was certainly worried about my angel and infuriated that Karl had assaulted her, I was also feeling twinges of happiness. This news brought hope that Rebecca might wise up and divorce that selfish sonofabitch.

And I also couldn't help feeling overjoyed that, when my angel had found herself in trouble, instead of calling her many cool friends, she'd reached out to me, the little 5'6 sissy.

She'd even referred to me by my male name, Chris!

My princess needed my help. No matter what, I knew I had to rescue her, and whisk her away from the shitty situation that was dragging her down.

I called the Hilton and rented the presidential suite. I figured if I was going to be providing Rebecca Anne Strickland with a better life, I might as well get started on the right foot.

Part XIV

To my anguish and delight, Rebecca cried all night.

I certainly wasn't happy about my angel being in pain, and her tears churned me up inside — but at the same time, I was secretly thrilled that she was seriously thinking about leaving her dickhead of a husband.

"OMG, tell me what happened," I said as I escorted her into the palatial suite I'd rented.

She sat on the couch and sighed. "Well, we were at the fish fry and he started acting like an asshole, wanting to fight everyone. Then, on the way home, he gets on the freeway and floors it."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, jeez."

"Yeah. He had it way over 100mph ... I kept telling him to slow down, but he never listens — and, sure enough, the cops pull him over and he gets another damn ticket."

"You gotta be kidding me."

"Nope — and, then, the stupid-ass almost got himself thrown in jail yelling at the cop; he's lucky he didn't. So, then, when we got home everything just blew up. We had a huge argument and he ..." Tears filled her eyes. "H-he slapped me."

I took a seat next to her on the couch and rubbed her arm. "OMG, I'm so sorry, Mrs. Mar— ... um, I'm so sorry."

"Thanks, Chrissie." Through her tears she managed a smile, and I forced my lips upward in return, hiding my embarrassment and disappointment at being called by my "sissy name," since I'd thought she'd called me to provide friendship, not submission, and in the moment I was more interested in saving her than serving her.

I drew a breath and offered my opinion: "If you don't mind my saying so, um ... well, Karl seems pretty selfish."

Rebecca's face twisted up ugly. "Listen, Chrissie, you should probably just keep your damn mouth shut."

"Oh, no — I-I ... I didn't—"

She sighed and touched my hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell, Chrissie. You're right. I know he's an asshole. I know. But ..."

Although her sentence trailed off, it was obvious what lurked behind the "but."

"But ... I love him."

"But ... he's so handsome."

But ... he's so tall and muscular."