Date: Thu, 3 Feb 2000 00:21:55 EST
From: c.w. cobblestone
Subject: Sissy Maid Husband

"Sissy Maid Husband"
by c.w. cobblestone

I nervously adjusted my apron and fixed my cap. Swallowing hard, I politely
knocked on the bedroom door. Then, I waited.

After a few seconds, I heard my wife's voice: "Yeah, come on in."

I took a deep breath and opened the door. I stepped into the master
bedroom, feeling, as always, like an intruder. I nervously approached Cindy
and her lover, Carl, who were sprawled lazily across the king-sized bed.

Apprehensively, I curtsied to my masters and said in my sweetest maid's
voice, "you rang, Mistress?"

Carl held up his empty glass and tinkled the ice. "No, I rang, sissy," he
said. "I'm ready for another lemonade over here."

I immediately curtsied to Carl and blurted out my ubiquitous, "yes, sir."
Then I stepped over to him and gently took the glass from his hand. He
didn't take his eyes off the television as I curtsied to him a second time.

Before I left, I curtsied to my wife and respectfully asked if she wanted
anything to drink. Cindy pursed her lips for a second, then said, "nah."

I again curtsied to my Mistress, then trotted out of the room as fast as my
heels would allow me, intent on my mission of getting my wife's lover
another drink.

In less than 30 seconds, Carl had his ice-cold drink in his hand. He took a
long, invigorating gulp, downing half the glass in one swallow. Carl let
out a suppressed burp and handed the glass back to me.

"Here, sissy, fill that up one more time, why don'tcha?" he said
casually. I executed a quick curtsey, and once again, I daintily took the
glass from my master.

In less than 30 seconds, Carl had his ice-cold drink in his hand.

As I turned to leave the bedroom, Cindy stopped me.

"Hang on, sissy, I'm hungry," she said. "What's in the fridge?"

I started to think about it, but Cindy cut me off. "Go look," she said.

I minced downstairs and took inventory of the refrigerator's
contents. Dinner came down to three choices: beef bourgonion, roast pork or
grilled salmon.

I trudged back up the steps and again knocked gently at the bedroom
door. This time, Carl acknowledged my knock with a simple, "um-hmm."

I felt like a child as I stood before my reclining wife and her lover,
dutifully reporting the contents of the refrigerator.

"Hmmm...I dunno," my wife said after I'd finished. "Pork sounds good. What
do you think, honey?"

Carl shrugged. "Hell, I don't know," he said. "Personally, I'd rather just
order a pizza."

Cindy smiled. "That sounds like a GREAT idea!" she said. Then she turned to
me and said, "you heard him, sissy, call it in. Double cheese and
mushrooms."

"Heavy onions...and green peppers, too," Carl added.

"Onions...yuck!" Cindy grimaced. "I hate onions."

Carl playfully swatted at my wife's behind. "Girl, you make everything
difficult, don't you?" Cindy squealed and reared back as if to slap her
lover. "Don't get lippy with me, mister!" she giggled.

Carl let out a dramatic sigh and pretended to be exasperated. "All right,
all right, if you must be difficult about it," he said. "Okay, then, sissy,
order half the pizza with mushrooms, and half the pizza with onions and
green peppers."

"Yes, sir." I bobbed a curtsey.

As I picked up the bedroom phone to call in the order, Cindy said, "listen,
sissy, I'm hungry. It'll be quicker if you run down and pick it up, instead
of waiting for the delivery man. Papa Italy's is only on Front Street -
that'll only take you about 20 minutes to walk."

"Yes, mistress," I said through clenched teeth. I really didn't feel like
walking over to the pizza place, but I just smiled like a good little slave
and dialed the number.

After I placed the order, I respectfully asked my masters if they wanted
anything else before I left for the restaurant. Cindy looked at me with
half-closed eyelids and said, "yeah, you know what? I want a Coke."

"Yes, mistress." After I curtsied to her, I ran as fast as my heels would
allow me.

In less than 20 seconds my wife had her ice-cold drink in her hand.

By the time I'd changed clothes and walked to the restaurant, the pizza was
ready. Two years after my operation, I still felt funny being out in public
as a girl, even though I was dressed casually in a pink shirt and girls'
jeans. But my fears were unfounded; nobody gave me a second glance. Carl is
one of the best plastic surgeons in Los Angeles, and he re-did my face to
perfection - as far as anyone in the pizza parlor was concerned, I was just
a waifish female college student, probably grabbing a quick pizza before
cramming for a test.

I hurried home as fast as I could. Luckily, my masters don't make me wear
my heels when I go out, so I was able to walk without difficulty. On most
errands, I'm allowed to wear a pink pair of tennis shoes. At first, I was
embarrassed at how sissified the shoes were. But I grew to appreciate them,
believe me!

While Cindy and Carl lounged in bed and munched on their pizza, I wandered
around the master bedroom, cleaning up after them. I grimaced as I picked a
pair male underwear off the floor. There's nothing I hate more than
scrubbing Carl's shit-stained BVD's by hand in the laundry sink!

After all the clothes were picked up, I began dusting. At one point, when I
was cleaning the television stand, Carl got upset with me.

"Move, sissy!" he bellowed. "You're right in the goddamned way of the TV!"

I literally jumped out of the way. "Yes, sir...sorry, sir!" was my
breathless reply. It was, of course, ignored.

I continued cleaning, making sure I was out of my masters' line of
vision. I was standing in front of the dresser, polishing Cindy's perfume
bottles when Carl called across the bedroom. "Hey, sissy, you want a
piece?"

I turned and looked at Carl, who was holding a small piece of pizza. It was
the "shit slice" - mostly crust, and the toppings had all fell off - but my
mouth watered. Treats like this were rare.

"Yes, sir, thank you very much sir!" I blurted out, in a genuinely
appreciative tone.

I started to move toward Carl, when Cindy shook her head. "Oh, no!" she
said. "I put you on a diet, sissy, remember? You need to lose 10 pounds so
you can fit into your new corset."

Carl shrugged and threw the piece down into the empty box. "Sorry, sissy,"
he chuckled, not sounding the least bit sorry. "Your mistress says no!
Throw it away, I guess."

I wanted to cry, but instead I curtsied and forced a tight little
smile. "Yes, sir."

By this time, both Carl and Cindy had turned their attention back to the
television. So I silently picked up the empty pizza box and turned to
leave. Remembering my manners, I stopped and curtsied toward my reclining
masters.

"Uh...sir? Mistress? Is there anything you'd like before I start on the
laundry?"

Carl frowned and shook his head. For an instant, a cold chill ran through
me when Carl frowned; it was obvious that I was bugging him while he was
trying to watch his program.

I turned toward my wife and nearly whispered, "Mistress?"

Cindy waved her hand. "Nah," she said. "Go on, now, sissy, quit bothering
us."

I curtsied one last time, then left the master bedroom, a pizza box under
one arm and a laundry basket under the other.

Luckily, there wasn't much laundry. I hand-wash everything twice a week, so
it doesn't pile up. Tomorrow, I knew, would be a big laundry day; Sundays
are when I have to hand-wash all the silk sheets and pillowcases. That
isn't so bad. But Cindy insists that I iron all the sheets, and that's a
very difficult task.

I don't know why they want the sheets ironed - they get wrinkled as soon as
they've been laid on for a few minutes. But mine is not to question.

I was almost finished with the laundry when I heard my wife call from
upstairs: "Sissss-aaaaaaayyyyy!"

Oh, no! She was using her perturbed voice! Something must be wrong, I was
sure of it!

I wiped my hands on my apron and rushed up the stairs. My mind was whirling
a mile a minute. What could be wrong? Mistress didn't sound very happy when
she called me.

I knocked timidly on the bedroom door. My heart was pounding.

"Come in!" Cindy called.

I nearly fainted when I opened the door. Both Cindy and Carl were naked;
Carl was standing near the bed, stroking his massive cock. Cindy was laying
on the bed, her legs spread languidly.

"Sissy, where is the lotion?" Cindy asked after I curtsied to her and
Carl. "Find it - now!"

I frantically looked around for the bottle of lotion. Luckily, I found it
where it's supposed to be: In the bottom drawer of the nightstand.

I started to hand the lotion to my wife, but Carl stopped me. He pointed to
Cindy's ass.

"Lube your mistress' butt up real good, now, sissy," he ordered. "I'm gonna
get that ass!"

I bobbed a curtsey to my master, and squirted a liberal amount of lotion
into my palm. Then, with a beating heart, I gently began lubricating my
wife's asshole. It isn't often I get the chance to touch Cindy's private
parts, and I was flush with excitement.

Carl noticed me blushing and chuckled. "Now, don't go getting all excited,
sissy," he laughed. "It's only Saturday, and you've still got five days
before Thursday."

"Y-yes, sir," I said as sweetly as possible. I didn't need him to remind
me: I'm only allowed to masturbate on Thursdays - if, that is, I've been
totally obedient.

When I was finished greasing up Cindy's butt, Carl pushed me out of the way
and moved in behind her. He started rubbing his cock across her asshole,
scooping up some of the lotion with his dick.

"Hey, sissy, watch this," Carl said. Then he slowly began inserting his
dick into my wife's ass. "Fits in there just perfect, don't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ooooooooowwwwwwww......ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhgoooooooooooooooooooodddddd!!"
Cindy moaned, causing Carl to chuckle.

"Do you think she likes it, sissy?" Carl asked me.

"Y-yes, sir," I said.

"I think you're right, sissy," he said, as he began increasing the tempo of
his strokes. "I do believe you're right."

I stood there in awe for a few minutes, watching this powerful man pleasure
my wife in a way that I knew would never be possible for me. Cindy had a
handful of the silk sheets and she kept her face in her pillow.

By now, Carl had worked up quite a sweat. I could see the veins in his neck
popping out from the strain. I was overwhelmed to be watching this hot,
animal act - an act that was totally alien to me. It had been years since
I'd had any kind of sex, other than masturbation. As Cindy often points
out, who wants to have sex with a sissy?

I was lost in my thoughts as I watched Carl pound my wife's ass. Suddenly,
he looked up from his work and snarled at me.

"What are you doing standing there, sissy?" he growled. "Get the hell out
of here, you perverted little slut!"

Cindy lifted her head from the pillow, her damp hair clinging to her
forehead. "Yeah, get out of here, sissy," she said. "Little girls shouldn't
be watching grown-ups while they fuck. Go scrub the kitchen floor or
something."

I bobbed a polite curtsey and said, "yes, Mistress." Then I quietly
curtsied to Carl, and hightailed it out of there.