Brandi's Use of the Computer

by

Karen Anne Summerfield

© November 2001

   

I was so happily engrossed in a chat room with some of my friends in the UK and Canada that I didn't notice my spouse, Angela, standing behind me until she turned off the computer.

"Hey! I was right in the middle of something!" Her stern look told me that I shouldn't argue or protest.

"Let's talk?" She pulled over another chair and sat to face me.

"I accept that you enjoy using your computer and it's your entertainment, Brandi. I've also told you that I've no problem with that." Angela had addressed me by my feminine name, even though I wasn't dressed at the time. I don't remember her ever doing that before. Something different was happening.

"Effective immediately, I'm placing new rules in effect for you. Take out a pen and pad to make notes." She waited for me to get them from the desk and be ready to write.

"Brandi's Use of the Computer.

"One - Only Brandi may use the computer. Emphasize 'only Brandi'." I underlined it.

"Two - Brandi may use the computer whenever she wants to.

"Three - Only Angela may stop her session once it has begun." She waited until I stopped writing. "Let me explain what that means. I'm not planning to play games and stop you shortly after you begin. If it's evening, you will get to use it until I'm ready to go to bed. At other times, like weekends, I'll allow it for several hours at a time. This rule is intended to mean that you will sit there for as long as I think you should. You will not be permitted to just log on, check your email and then go do whatever else you think of. If you ask to use it, then I expect that is what you will do. Understand?" I nodded. When I was being talked to like that, Angela expected me to keep quiet until she was finished.

"Four -," she continued. "Brandi will wear her uniform when using the computer." I have a half dozen maid's uniforms in my wardrobe, but that wasn't exactly what she intended. She grinned when I met her eyes. "We're going to get a new one, just for this; don't worry, it will be attractive.

"Five - When properly uniformed and asking to use her computer, Brandi will be assigned a small chore, requiring usually only a half hour or less to complete.

"Six - Brandi will be placed in bondage when allowed to use the computer.

"That's it for now. Any questions?" I felt sure that Angela had more in her mind than exactly what I'd been told.

"What sort of uniform will I be wearing, another maid's one?" I asked.

"I didn't specify, but no, not one of those. I'm thinking of a school uniform or an office uniform. I've not finalized it.

"Since you mention them though, I want you to put on your day uniform, do the chores and clean the house. I'll let you know before tomorrow night."

Our relationship is not really a dominant and submissive one. Angela fully accepts Brandi and has helped her become what she was then. With her encouragement, I had the courage to go out in public and the skills she'd taught me have allowed me to pass without question; doing the things we like either together or alone. My corsets and my maid's uniforms had been Angela's ideas, but I'd come to enjoy them and didn't object to doing most of the chores in the house while uniformed as her maid.

"I'm going out for a few hours, Brandi," Angela said just past noon. I was folding laundry when she found me.

"I don't want to be unreasonable, so I've decided you may wear your parlor uniform until a proper uniform has been acquired to use the computer. If you'd like to use the computer after dinner tonight, you may. I've laid out the accessories you are to wear with it on the bed in Brandi's room." She gave me a kiss on the cheek.

"See you later."

I'll admit, I was curious and went up to the room where Brandi's things were kept to see just what Angela had planned. My training corset was the first item to catch my attention. It is very long and very heavily constructed with lots of boning. There is only one way to sit while wearing it, perfectly straight. On top of it was the shoulder harness and posture collar that made up the full set.

The boots were my white, calf-high ones. These lace-up and lock so I'm not tempted to remove them after my feet tire from the extreme arch created by seven-inch heels. At least using the computer, I'd not have to be standing or walking around while wearing them. I didn't think much about wearing long satin gloves, but, then, I'd never typed with gloves on either. Stockings, petticoats, the maid's cap and pinafore were the other accessories. I returned to the remaining chores.

When vacuuming the carpet, I discovered that the door to the den was locked. Easily, I could have opened it with just a bobby pin, but had no desire to cheat. I had agreed to abide by Angela's rules the previous evening and didn't want to break my word.

"Do the dishes then you may change, Brandi." Angela said, once we'd finished supper. "I placed one of your pictures on your vanity. That is how I want your makeup tonight." She stood, "I'll be watching TV when you're ready." I started on the dishes and went up to change about seven.

It was nearly nine when I curtseyed to her in the family room. It had taken me that long to lace my corset to twenty-one inches which my long uniform required, lace-up and lock my boots then do the elaborate makeup, fix my hair into a French twist and put everything else on.

"Very pretty. I especially like those long lashes. Do your makeup like that every time you wish to use the computer unless I decide otherwise, Brandi." I curtseyed to acknowledge the order.

"The early edition Sunday Times should be out at CVS by now. Go pick me up one then you may use your computer." She said this very matter-of-fact way and offered a five-dollar bill. "Be sure to get a receipt." Angela had returned her attention to the movie and didn't see my panic stricken face. I couldn't believe that I had been told to go out uniformed as I was!

"What are you waiting for?" Still, she hadn't looked at me.

"When you bring me the paper, you may use the computer, until that happens, you are not to change your appearance in anyway. There will be no discussion of this, Brandi," she stated firmly, still not looking at me.

"Brandi has been to the store a hundred times in far less conservative attire. Either go or place yourself facing the corner," she said when the next commercial aired. I decided to get the paper.

My parlor maid's uniform is a long and severe one. It is designed for serving tea or other offerings to either Mistress or guests too and doing little else. Literally, its skirt is floor length, if the maid is wearing six-inch heels. I usually wear six-inch ones in that dress. While the skirt appears to be relatively full with the three, multi-tired and gathered petticoats filling it, that is an intentional deception. There is a fourth, innermost one sewn into the dress. It is so tight that I can't cross my legs and climbing stairs is nearly impossible.

I did manage to descend the steps from the rear porch (when in one of my maid's uniforms, I must use the 'Servant's Entrance', not the front door) then made my way to my Grand Cherokee. Climbing up into the seat was extremely difficult.

My next obstacle was driving it. You see, the SUV has a five-on-the-floor transmission. I should point out that we live in New England where the roads are everything but straight and flat. Just for amusement, one time I'd counted. Just driving the four miles from our home to the drugstore, which was my destination that night had required eighty-seven gear changes. I was wearing seven-inch spike heels! I drove very slowly and very carefully.

A uniformed maid in our town is not totally unknown, I saw at least a couple a month, running errands, but never one who was in her twenties, white and spoke without a black, Spanish or Asian accent. Never had I seen any girl off stage wearing my makeup and never had I seen one in a formal parlor maid's uniform such as mine.

It was highly embarrassing to be laughed at, pointed out and talked about while performing the assignment I'd been given. I hoped I could get used to it and that things wouldn't get worse in the future.

The teen girl at the register grinned with amusement when I approached with the paper. " Buena tarde, Señorita," I shouldn't have been, but I was pissed with her condescending greeting. I tied to spit in her face with my reply in French.

"Je suis, Mademoiselle. Je n'ais pas, Señorita," I said.

"Oooo, Pardonez-moi, survieuse. C'est une grande erreur du moi!" she burst out giggling. I flushed with embarrassment. I should have just accepted that she thought I was Hispanic and let it go.

"Une, deau, troi," she made a big show of counting my change into my gloved hand.

"Bon soir, servieuse." More laughs. I returned to my car.

"The paper, Angela." I curtseyed, offering it, her change and the receipt.

"Put them on the table and I'll fix you up with the computer." She stood.

"I'd rather just go to bed," I said. I was tired and just wanted to sleep.

"Brandi! Go to the den! You asked to use the computer and that is what you are going to do, now!" Meekly, I followed her there.

During my outing, Angela had changed the knob to an entrance lock requiring a key. My comfortable office chair had been replaced with a stool and there was a strange tube coming through the floor and pointing towards the stool, a few feet above the hard seat.

"Sit and I'll chain you up." Again it was an order. Very reluctantly, I moved into place, smoothed my skirts underneath and sat. Angela lifted the cuff to my right wrist and ratcheted it snug. My left one was treated the same. She crouched down.

"Move your feet back." As soon as I had, I felt the steel cuffs close around my booted ankles. Her hand moved my right toe an inch or two to the outside.

"There's a pedal here now. You step on it to water." When she stood up, Angela positioned the tube near my mouth. "You suck on the nipple and push the pedal and you'll be able to have a drink. It is really a pump. The more you press it the more water you get.

"If you have any ideas about how you can pee, let me know. Tomorrow, you are going to be sitting there the entire day.

'This wasn't any fun', I thought after Angela had left, closing the door. I was left there until about half past two.

Angela relented from her threat at breakfast.

"Have you thought about your toilet needs, Brandi?" she asked. "Of course diapers are one solution, but I really don't want that for you."

"Yes, I surfed some sites, medical ones, and think an external catheter with a collection bag might be a solution."

"How does one of those work?" she asked.

"They had several different ways, but they're pretty similar. The penis is inserted in a rubber tube with a drain hose, valve and the rubber bag is strapped on the inside of the leg at the thigh or calf. Some have a light elastic harness to keep them in place and I think that might be best," I told her. Angela nodded agreement after thinking it through.

"Why don't you order one?" she offered.

"I already have," I sheepishly admitted. In fact I'd ordered two, just to have a spare. Funny thing, I never gave serious thought to not obeying her or trying to talk her out of the decision.

I didn't ask to use the computer that day, but Angela sequestered herself in her bedroom suite and heavily occupied herself on her own until suppertime. She seemed to be in a very happy mood when she sat for dinner.

"I was able to order everything else for your computer uniform today. I think you'll look quite attractive in my selections, Brandi." I knew she was going to make it a surprise and not tell me. "In the meantime, continue to wear the parlor maid's uniform when you want to use your computer." I curtseyed to acknowledge her order.

The End

  

  

  

*********************************************
© 2001 by Karen Anne Summerfield. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.