Cindi

by Karen Anne Summerfield

writing as

Cynetta Cynthia Cynclaire

 

Part 1 ~ The Beginning

Copyright October 2002

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After completing and posting my co-authored story, Jacqui, to Crystal's StorySite, I received more 'fan mail' than for all of the other stories I'd written over the years combined. To most of them, I'd written a polite reply; thanking them for writing and adding words to answer any questions or specific comments, as required. With the majority of my fans, that was the end of any exchange until I posted another story.

If you've not taken the time to read Jacqui, it is a love story. Jacqui is also a maid’s story, though it’s not your typical maid’s story by any means. First seen as a refuge from a failing life, the maid’s life Jacqui discovers is also full of new views of the world, humiliations, large and small, and all kinds of situations she must learn to deal with in new ways. It’s a time of recovery and growth, but after a while, Jacqui begins to wonder whether she is growing in the direction she had hoped.

After an initial exchange with a fan identified as 'Mtrs H', our correspondence grew. She questioned if I had ever dreamed, fantasized, about being a maid myself; if I wanted to actually be Jacqui and experience the things, which I'd caused to happen to my fictional character. 'Mtrs H' also wanted to know much more about me. First in emails then on ICQ chat, I told her everything she wanted to know, shared my other writings and even sent her pictures of myself taken over the course of my adult life. After about three months, she'd become one of my best cyber friends.

I'd learned that 'Mtrs H' was in her mid-thirties, was married and lived only a hundred miles south. Her pictures revealed my friend to be an attractive blonde. Most definitely, I did not refuse the invitation to visit her home for a weekend when she offered. Of course, I'd no objection to traveling fully dressed and bringing my maid's uniform along with my other items.

Their house wasn't comparable to Carla's mansion; it was well above my income level and had to have cost more than even Carla could afford. The masonry and stone structure sat on several acres; reminding me of European villas that I'd seen pictures of. I took the time to freshen my lips, add a bit more mascara then exited my car to walk around the house with my suitcase and garment bag to the rear, kitchen entrance.

Expecting 'Mtrs H', I was more than a bit shocked when the door was opened by a handsome man. I guessed him to be about forty-five.

"Hi, I'm Bill Carlson, Diane's husband. You must be Cynetta." He took my case and extended his hand to shake. I did remember to return a feminine one as I dipped a little curtsey. "Welcome to our home. Come in.

While I've passed many times in public, one feature that doesn't pass is my voice, still I returned his greeting, "Yes, I'm Cynetta Cynclaire. Pleased to meet you…" I didn't know if I should say 'sir' or use his familiar name. Mention of 'Mtrs H's' husband had been omitted from our discussions about that weekend and his presence set me on edge.

"Diane had to run out. I expect her back shortly." He started out of the modern kitchen. "Your room is this way; I'm sure you'd like to freshen up, Cynetta." I followed him into the hallway and wondered who 'Cindi' was. That name along with her title, 'Maid Cindi' was engraved on the brass plate screwed to the door off of the laundry room.

"This is your room." I passed him to enter the femininely appointed room. Mr. Carlson followed to place my luggage on the canopied bed. "Bathroom is there." He motioned to the open door.

"My wife told me that you two have played some games in chat and thought of one she'd like to play with you this morning. OK?"

"Yes, fine," I tried to keep my voice soft and low so it didn't sound too bad.

"I know too that she wants to see you in a cute uniform, but right now she'd like you to stay dressed as you are?"

"Sure, I won't be long," I told him.

"Take your time. Why not unpack and put your things in the closet and dresser." Mr. Carlson closed the door to give me privacy.

I took the time to touch up my makeup and hair after unpacking. Still wearing my black, fitted wool suit, I found him ten minutes later, pouring coffee in the kitchen. He gave me a nice smile.

"Diane is in her office. Take this to her, please?" Not thinking twice, I picked up the tray and followed the simple directions to a closed door at the end of a hall.

"Come in," she bid in response to my knock. I don't really know how I expected her to be dressed on a Saturday morning, but it wasn't in the tight leather suit and high-heeled knee boots that 'Mtrs H' was wearing. I also didn't expect handcuffs, a gag and a wicked looking quirt to be on the desk either. Until then, I had no clear idea that she was into B&D or that kinky.

"Good morning," I curtseyed with a smile.

"Hi." I saw her eyes examine me closely, head to high-heeled pumps and back.

"Your pictures don't accurately reflect how good you look." Her big smile reinforced her compliment.

"Set the tray here." I placed on the credenza.

"Why not sit there while we talk." I moved to the tall stool and perched.

"You really do look great. Mean that.

"What I'd like to do is conduct our chat as if I were interviewing you to be our maid. You did tell me you really enjoy showing off your skills there. Game?" Of course I'd no problem with that. "Later, you can change to a cute uniform and show us how really good you are." She paused to sip the coffee and picked up a printed-paper to read it for a moment.

"I've a bit of a problem with your name; 'Cynetta' just doesn't sound right for a maid. It would make a better name for the stage. I think of maids having plain names; Mary, Joan, Anne, Sally, ones like those. You'd opt instead for something cuter; besides, in the time I've known you, Mary just doesn't fit your personality. I've decided you are now, 'Cindi Cynclaire'. 'Mtrs H' looked up to meet my eyes.

"Fine," I said, remembering it was the name on the door to the room I was using.

"While we are doing names, mine is Diane Elizabeth Carlson; forget the 'Mistress H' bit, I invented. My husband is Doctor William Richard Carlson; he's a plastic surgeon.

"I'd, up until I read your Jacqui, thought that if I ever had a real maid, I'd like her to call me 'Mistress', but decided, for you, that 'mum' will sound rather nice. Bill thinks that 'sir' will be fine for him.

"Tell me, Cindi, do you think you'd like to be my full time maid?" Though I'd chosen Cynthia as my middle name, it sounded strange to be addressed that way as no one ever had before.

"As I told you in chat, mum, it has been a fantasy I've held for some time." She interrupted before I could finish saying all that I wanted to.

"And in your other stories," her hand touched a pile of computer paper neatly stacked seven inches high on her desk, "you also place yourself, at least your mind, into the central characters and imagine what it might be like to be her?" I confirmed that was how I wrote. "In some of your stories, the poor girls get treated really badly. I don't think I'll get into anything nearly as heavy, as the things you've imagined, even in play.

"Anyroad," she giggled seeing my surprise when she used one of my favorite expressions. "Anyroad, do you think you'd like to try a lot of what your Jacqui experienced?"

"Yes, I would, mum" I replied without hesitation.

"The same life: chores, uniforms, experiences … oh, mustn't forget the accessories. Are you ready to learn what wearing a real chastity belt is all about, Cindi?"

"Yes, mum, I think I'd like to at least try it. I don't think I want to be forced to date guys or have sexual reassignment surgery. I'm not ready, if I'll ever be, for that."

"No, that's a big step. As to dating… I'd leave that decision up to my maid on her free time; I'd not force her into any relationships." Mrs. Carlson stared intently at me, as if in thought while draining her coffee cup.

"You'll admit that many of your stories, I read all I could find on the Web," she glanced to indicate that the pile was printed copies of stories I'd posted about the Internet, "have quite a few common themes. Something you favor as a writer is the corsets and chastity belts along with lots of attractive uniforms for your characters and we mustn't forget high heels. You make it pretty clear that complaints about those guarantee that the girl is to be punished for being so stupid. Would you accept the same conditions, Cindi?"

I still wasn't used to being called by that name. With just the weekend ahead and doubting she'd obtained anything close to a real chastity belt, I figured that I could endure being in a corset for a little more than twenty-four hours, if it would be that long.

"Is the room I picked out suitable for a maid like you? It's close to the kitchen and laundry room, so she'll be close to her chores.

"It's very nice, thank you," I told her.

Mrs. Carlson continued without hesitation. "You said that another dream of yours was to go to a beauty parlor to have a make over and get a nice set of acrylic nails, just like Jacqui did. Even to do it in uniform." I squirmed a bit, growing excited about the things we were discussing.

"If I go with you, my treat, would you like to do that this afternoon?" It seemed like a genuine offer; one I could not refuse.

"Yes, that would be a lot of fun, mum."

"OK then, let's do it then!" Mrs. Carlson stood with big smile and extended her hand towards me. "We'll get you in uniform and do just that. Come along." Riding a very high, high, I accepted her hand to be led back to the maid's quarters.

"Start getting undressed, I'll be right back, Cindi." She was gone before I could think to object, not that I wanted to. I'd just stepped out on my skirt when she returned carrying a garment bag and a carry all. I heard a metallic clank when the latter fell on the bed, but gave it no thought.

"Take off everything, maid. Don't give me the shy act, I doubt you have anything I've not seen before." More than a bit nervous, I undressed to nothing more than the pair of full-fashioned, black stockings I'd worn with my suit.

"Pretty miserable excuse for a guy, but you aren't a guy - are you, girl?" she teased with a grin and her blue eyes directed at my plumbing; I'm not large, by any means, especially when flaccid. Her bag yielded what I had doubted she had, a real, stainless steel chastity belt, but for the contoured hip band, the style looked like one from Neo Steel in Germany. It wasn't their standard design, but like one of the 'she male' ones equipped with their electronic remote control packs mounted where the back strap mated with the hip band.

Mrs. Carlson knelt and held the device for me to step into its attached thigh bands. I shivered as the cold rubber lined steel slid up my legs. While a bit frightened, I was also thrilled to have a real belt fitted to me by this attractive woman. Seeing me rise to the occasion, she giggled.

"There won't be any of that soon, Cindi." She giggled again, "That's a very un-girlish display!" The steel was about my hips. She took but a moment to don surgical gloves then coat my member with a cool gel. It felt so good to sense her touch, but quickly the sensations dulled. I soon knew the lubricant to also be a topical anesthetic - for all feelings there disappeared. Deftly, she inserted my penis into the tube, fitted that to the front shield then proceeded to spread my cheeks and lock everything. I shuddered, hearing the ominous clicks of the three locks: front, back and the one on the secondary shield.

"Turn around and bend over." I complied and spread my feet when ordered. She used the same anesthetic to lubricate my rear orifice then inserted a plug; the size of it could not be judged when it went in. There was another click. "You can straighten now." I started to turn around, but her hands held me to stay. "Stay a sec'." I felt something done, probably to the electronics pack at the base of my spine.

"Face me." I did. Mrs. Carlson probed about my chastity belt for a bit.

"That seems to fit you well. For now, I'll accept discussion about it; not complaints, just discussion. I want to know about how it fits and of any chaffing or other irritations. I had to guess some of the measurements, especially the size for the penile tube; if too small, tell me. It is intended to prevent an erection and to be uncomfortable when you start one, but not so small as to cause real problems; so let me know.

"The butt plug is your own idea, so no complaints about it. In a few of your stories, the girl had to be plugged there if she so much as stepped out the door. You invented that rule and it applies to you.

"I've added something else; those," her manicured finger touched one of the steel circles snug on my thigh. "Just like the plugs, you must wear them when outside." I think that if not for the anesthetic, I'd have had a very uncomfortable ordeal inside the chastity belt while they were positioned and the chains and padlocks were adjusted to staples on each side of my steel underwear. The few links of connecting chain between the bands would only permit me to move my knees about eight inches and I'd discover that I couldn't cross them.

A white twill corset was withdrawn from the duffle. With it rolled under her arm, Mrs. Carlson poked her finger into my soft belly. "I think you lied to me about your weight and waist, Cindi. That's your problem." I had lied, subtracting fifteen pounds and more than two inches. "In order for the uniforms I bought for you to fit, you need a twenty-eight inch waist to fasten them up. I'd intended only a four-inch reduction to accomplish that with a two-inch gap remaining. So do not blame me when I lace you in that tightly." She hooked the busk and had me turn around to start tightening the laces.

"I'll need help with these. Again it is your fault for not being truthful, not mine." Her husband responded when she opened the door and summoned him after half an hour struggling. Dr. Carlson quickly achieved the needed reduction and they tied off.

"I'll do her in the morning, Di'," he offered. To me, he'd a poker face.

"She'll need help from you for now. If I can't, I doubt she could lace herself on her own." I was gasping for breath and my chest hurt deeply; knowing it was only for twenty-four hours, I resolved to endure the torture of more than six inches laced from my torso without complaints. Her hands massaged the flesh, which had been extruded from the top of the corset. I was pleased to see nearly B cup breasts formed from it there.

A large cupped bra was added then filled with silicone breast forms; creating an exaggerated bosom. I'd fantasized about large breasts and most of my characters had ones to match what had been created on my normally flat chest, or even larger ones.

"Garter your stockings and straighten their seams." Seeing the shoes that were intended, I was relieved that they had two-inch platforms with only seven-inch heels. I'd lied about them too. While I can manage with relative comfort in heels that arch my feet an inch higher, I'd said I wore six-inch ones when doing parties in my French uniform and five inch heels most of the time. Mrs. Carlson knelt to help me put on the ankle strap sandals. The thigh bands tightened somewhat as my muscles strained to balance.

"I'll give you a choice of which uniform you'll wear for our first outing, Cindi."

"I only bought one. It's the gray cotton one, I sent you pictures of me wearing."

"It's cute and suitable for heavy chores," she opened the locked armoire with a key, "but I think a more attractive one would be more appropriate. Don't you?" As she opened the doors, Mrs. Carlson stepped aside to reveal that the rack contained at least a dozen maid's uniforms. "Pick out which you'd like."

I was startled by the selections that were offered. Had she bought all on them for just that weekend? I rejected the ultra-short, French styles in PVC, taffeta and gingham. None of the others were more than mini-length, but should cover the steel about my thighs; a half dozen were of that length. After taking out a few for better inspection, I selected a black taffeta dress: one I'd label as an 'evening' uniform.

"Is that you choice, Cindi?" Mrs. Carlson asked when I'd turned to her with it in my hands.

"Yes, it is, mum."

"Very well." She walked to the closet, tossed a large plastic bag on the bed then returned to the armoire to extract an apron and white headpiece. "Those go with it. Put the dress on first; I'll help." After pulling on the long sleeved dress, she held out the crackling white petticoat for me to step into then lifted it while I held up the skirt.

"Be sure you don't wear these at your waist, but high on your hips; near the bottom of your corset. I want your waist to show." She tied it in back then closed the zipper of the snug bodice to the scooped neckline.

I turned to face the mirror. Never before had my figure looked that good, despite that I now appeared to have overly large breasts that jiggled and bounced with my movements. When I started to get aroused, admiring how I looked in the fingertip length dress, I received a shocking surprise; literally! The belt responded to deliver a jolt to the base of my penis and I yelped!

She giggled. "Mustn't have those un-girlish thoughts while wearing that underwear, Cindi, or at least learn to control your reactions." She slipped the crisp cotton apron about me, sorted out the shoulder straps then tied the long wide streamers in a large bow in back.

"Put this on." I placed the ruffled headpiece and adjusted it.

"There's pressure sensors in the tube, so learn to behave. It can only be turned off when the chastity belt isn't being worn. I've also got a remote that should keep you under control and willfully obedient when we're out today. Unless you want me to give you a sample now, I advise you to do so.

"Kneel down," Mrs. Carlson ordered. Because of the closely connected thigh bands, I needed to hold the bedpost in order to do so.

"I know that you like collars. Would you like me to collar you, Cindi?" Her words were cooed. "Lift your chin up." I received another zap, before I could do so.

It was a wide, stiff band of black leather decorated with a stout ring in front and chrome spikes around that was snugged high under my chin and locked it back. I could not prevent another charge from being delivered when I felt the padlock snap closed and yelped again in response, to elicit a laugh from her.

"You're purse will do for today. I was handed my large black shoulder bag.

"Let's go show my husband then we'll go out," she cheerily suggested. Dressed as I was, I was more than a little reluctant to expose myself in public, but at the same time, craved the idea and wanted to experience it.

Just walking to the den where Dr. Carlson was enjoying a college ball game taught me that long steps were not permitted in the combination of the high heels I was wearing and having my thighs restrained as they were. Even the loud frou-frou of the taffeta dress and crinoline fluffing it out did not mask the clicking of the links between my legs.

"What do you think, Bill, should I keep her?" I'd curtseyed when he was asked.

"Very, very good," he beamed with satisfaction. "We can decide later, dear." That was it, his attention returned to the action on the large-screen TV.

Getting seated in the soft leather upholstery of her Mercedes convertible was not easily accomplished and I was less than graceful. Once I had, my chastity belt became increasingly apparent and the overly tight corset almost painful. Then, there was nothing I could do to ease these sensations. What else became apparent was that the white petticoat billowed up to the height of my false nipples, which tented my bodice above the ruffed top of the bib. I tried to control the petticoat with my hands and black purse.

"I want you to think of your adventures today as a research project, Cindi," Mrs. Carlson said.

"A research project?" I had to question that. "I don't understand."

"You write great stories. I love your attention to details and how you describe things while telling interesting tales. One thing that I found lacking though, is emotions; you don't do a good job of fleshing out your characters in that department," she explained.

"I think the reason is because it's all coming from your fantastic imagination. I want to help change that and give you the opportunity to relate your characters' experiences in much of what you've written to real life. Understand now; research?"

"Yes, mum. Others have criticized my work for the same thing."

"Has anything I've asked of you, not been something you've done to your fictional maids and others? I'm trying to play with you by your own rules, Cindi."

"Understood. No nothing so far, mum."

"I'll permit you to tell me, if I do, and we'll discuss that in light of the situation. OK?"

"That seems fair. Thank you, mum." She had me!

The overly tight corset hurt like the devil then. I'd worn a corset before and had written based on personal knowledge about how they felt and how much they hurt on a girl whose torso hadn't yet become accustomed and trained. I knew the pain I was in was only going to grow far worse before it was removed.

The steel chastity belt was a totally new experience. Jacqui, as well as, a lot of other girls I'd created, had been made to wear them. Unlike the corset, it actually didn't hurt; its fit was surprisingly good. It was uncomfortable though. I was zapped again when my member started to enlarge. It was also damned effective is fulfilling its intended function - denying the wearer; me at the time, of any chance of anything close to sexual gratification. I did not need to attempt any probe underneath the rubber-lined steel, to know that touching my most sensitive flesh was going to be effectively thwarted. The steel underwear was going to require me to adapt to new ways of doing things.

A much greater quantity of the anesthetic lubricant had been used to insert the butt plug. As I rode, its numbing effect dissipated and the plug made me aware of its presence. I'd not seen what she'd bunged my butt with and had been unable to judge its size. It felt huge once feelings there were restored! 'If you step outside the door, for any reason even as insignificant as fetching the mail, girl, your butt must be plugged.' That was a direct quote. Now I was subject to the same rule. Mrs. Carlson had upped the ante by adding the controlling thigh bands to it.

"Here we are," she announced as she shut off the engine in the parking lot of a large mall. Jacqui's first makeover had been at a beauty parlor in a mall too.

"Do you agree that maids are to be 'quickly, willingly and cheerfully obedient', Cindi?" Geezch! I'd made that the Prime Directive for maids! It was a banner headline on my Website!

"Yes, mum." How could I possibly disagree? I couldn't! I'd created that rule and made it absolute!

"And if they are not, their punishment is guaranteed, correct?" Again, I was forced to agree.

When putting her keys in her purse, Mrs. Carlson had withdrawn a control box, half the size of a TV remote. It was placed on my white apron.

"That's the remote for your belt. I want you to look at it, Cindi." I lifted it to see a small LCD displaying '1' at the time, an 'Increase' button and a 'Decrease' one. Below those was a much larger red button. "The remote controls the intensity of the punishment the chastity belt delivers. Ten is the greatest.

"I want you to now push the red button so you will know what you can expect." I did not want to obey her order. I was zapped automatically while thinking of what she was doing. With great reluctance, I pressed my thumb down.

I gasped and stiffened as the intense shock exploded in my ass and penis! The pain, while manageable, was nothing I wanted to feel again.

"Very good. Give it to me." I returned the remote to her open hand. "Had you hesitated too long in obeying a simple order like that you'd now have felt intensity five punishment." I watched her press the 'Increase' switch twice. Mrs. Carlson turned the device so I could read that '3' was displayed then she clipped it to the shoulder strap of her bag.

"How much money do you have in you purse, Cindi?"

"About two hundred dollars, mum," I answered.

"That should be enough.

"Put these on and do not remove them until it's time to get your manicure." Mrs. Carlson removed a pair of rubber gloves from her purse. They were shiny and black, but not what you'd think of as the sexy latex gloves worn by fetish models. What I reluctantly pulled over my hands were more of the type used for handling industrial chemicals; nothing about them could be considered fashionable. Of thick rubber, the gloves reached nearly to my elbows once I had them on. Despite their ugly appearance and stiff fingers. I was zapped for my arousal twice as I exited the car.

I fell into a proper place for a maid, on Mrs. Carlson's left and slightly behind. My shoes clicked in response to the short steps I was forced to take and the uniform made a delightful frou-frou, but I was far too nervous to really enjoy the normally pleasurable chorus I created.

"Oh, by the way, there's a beeper circuit in your electronics package. The clicker has a range of only about a hundred yards; so, if it ever becomes necessary to punish you beyond that, I can simply give you a ring, Cindi," she giggled. "The telephone thingie has only one setting … ten." I wished that what she'd just told me wasn't true, but had no hope that was the case. She'd proved the remote circuit worked. I was not about to test the validity of the new information.

Being six foot tall in my stockings, wearing seven-inch heels and uniformed as I was with a locked on collar, of course, I drew the attention of every one as I minced along the corridor towards a gift kiosk; one that did engraving of plaques and trophies.

Mrs. Carlson scanned the showcase then addressed the attendant. "Hi. My new maid, Cindi, is required to wear a nametag. I'd like one of those in white and blue for her please?" Embarrassed, I did not make eye contact, but fixed my eyes straight ahead while the details were conveyed.

"It will take about ten minutes to engrave. The total is eight forty-eight with the tax."

"Pay the lady, Cindi," I was ordered. Shaking nervously, I fumbled because of the thick rubber gloves I'd been forced to wear in my purse for the money then had to wait for the change.

"One dollar and fifty-two cents, Maid Cindi." The woman was giggling as she counted the money into my rubber covered, sweaty hand.

"Nice gloves - perfect for a girl like you, Cindi," the woman smirked. Damn it! Had she read me?

"We'll return for her tag once she gets her ears pierced," Mrs. Carlson informed me of my next ordeal.

I thought of the consequences of going into to work on Monday with pierced earlobes. "I can't get my ears pierced, mum," I mumbled.

"Did you say something, Cindi? I didn't hear you." I repeated what I'd stated.

"Can't?" she laughed lightly. "Don't be absurd. You need to learn to distinguish between 'cannot' and 'do not want to'. Delete 'can't' from your vocabulary," I saw her finger the remote on her purse, "when I give you an order," Mrs. Carlson stopped to face me, "you will obey; quickly, willingly and cheerfully. I'm sure you can understand that, maid.

"You will now do this all on your own. I believe that the number for Jacqui was six studs in her lobes, correct?" I nodded.

"Stop bobbing your head, girl! If you have something to say then say it."

"Yes, mum, Jacqui had six in each ear."

"Learn to curtsey when you are given orders." She motioned to her right. "Go get your ears pierced, now. I'll follow behind to watch that it's done correctly."

Slowly approaching the kiosk, I was shaking terribly. While fantasizing about having my ears pierced, I knew I never would do it with the reality of having to work in my other persona to earn money so I could live in relative comfort. Mrs. Carlson had created an entirely different reality for me; I'd be painfully punished if I did not obey every order I was given. Having experienced the first setting of the device, I did not want to learn how much more painful, one, or two notches higher would be.

"Hello," I said to the teenage girl tending the shop with my voice barely above a whisper. "I'd like the have my ears pierced." She looked at me with undisguised amusement.

"Sure hun'." Her expression was pleasure. "Sit here, maid." The girl was trying to stifle a giggle. "You want plain studs with steel posts or real gold? "Five dollars a pair for the steel and fifteen for gold. Piercing is free if you buy any pair of earrings."

"Plain, silver colored and steel, please?" I managed to say. "Six in each ear." She laughed. I tried to talk as little as possible when in public.

"Kewl, ya got it."

Though I was afraid of the consequences come Monday, I was thrilled to actually having it done. The chastity belt reminded me with a shock that it wouldn't permit me to respond as I had.

Methodically, my ears were cleansed with alcohol after she'd put on surgical gloves, and the studs were shot in from the lobe to nearly the top of my left ear. I'd always imagined them much closer together, but it was too late. She duplicated the arrangement through my right one.

"All done." I felt her jerk the lock at the back of my collar.

"Neat.

"Are you going to buy earrings today?" I was asked and responded with a shake of my head. With a firm grip on the ring hanging below my chin, I was forced to stand then be led to the cash register.

"That's thirty dollars plus a dollar eighty in tax."

I paid and was given a standard lecture about not removing them; rotating the studs a few times a day and keeping my ears clean.

"This sheet explains it all. Don't wear wires or heavy earrings for at least eight weeks. If there is any infection, see your doctor as soon as possible, understand, maid?" She waited with her eyes locked on mine for a reply.

"Yes, thank you."

"Have a nice day, sir!" She didn't even try not to laugh at me; I flinched, learning that I'd been read. Damn it!

"Hey Connie," I heard her call loudly. "Get a look at that guy in the maid's dress." My back was turned then, still I was humiliated; I wanted to run out and hide.

"You were very disobedient!" Mrs. Carlson stated with determination. Before I could speak, she pressed the red button. It felt like a bolt of lightning shot up my ass and another explode in my captured member. I yelped in pain far worse than the previous dose in the car.

"Didn't I just remind you to curtsey, stupid?" As quickly as I could, I dropped a curtsey to her when her thumb threatened to trigger another round.

"Straighten up!" I'd doubled from the second jolt. "The reason you wear a chastity belt is just that!" She was focused on my crotch. "Put your hands behind your back, now!" In a fruitless attempt to stop the incredible pain in my nether region, my hands had instinctively gone to the steel covered area and were desperately clawing through the apron, dress and petticoat to tear it off. "I've told you time and again to stop playing with yourself, but you can't do that, can you?" Slowly I crossed my wrists over the bow. "I should have named you Bimbo Slut, instead of Cindi!" She didn't care who heard the admonishment that was delivered.

"I told you to curtsey. You are nothing but a maid; maids curtsey to their Master, their Mistress, to shop attendants and to strangers, girl! Curtsey to that gentleman amused by your stupidity!" Mrs. Carlson pointed to the left. I turned with lowered eyes and curtseyed properly, but was too embarrassed and frightened of what might happen next if I didn't. I couldn't look at those who'd stopped to witness my humiliation.

"Your tag should be finished. Fetch, Cindi!" she ordered as if I were her pet dog.

I doubted that there was anyone in the entire mall who wasn't snickering and staring in my direction; knowing then that I was a guy wearing a silly maid's uniform. I felt so tiny and small, vowing to get into my car and just drive home as soon as we returned to their house. I was sure that the chastity belt could be cut off, regardless of the bullshit that has fictionalized the impenetrability of the devices.

"Is my name tag finished, ma'am?" Fearful of the consequences if I did not, I executed a curtsey to the woman.

"Certainly." She had picked it up from the counter. "I assumed you'd want to wear it, Cindi. May I help you pin it on?" Without waiting, she came closer. I quickly debated wearing it or taking it in my purse. It was obvious that Mrs. Carlson had made me buy it with the clear intension she was going to require that I wear it. "With your gloves, you'd never manage it."

"On my left shoulder strap of my apron … I think?" I stammered. She pinned it just where that was sewn to the bib.

"Are you just playing for the weekend or really her full time maid, Cindi?" The woman's smile was warm and genuine. I debated lying, but I'd already been read once and didn't want another zap.

"Just playing," I said and forced a small smile.

"I hope you have a very enjoyable time then. I wish I was attractive, like your Mistress, and get pretty girls like you to play with." Her voice seemed sad.

"You have fun now and be a good girl for her." A tear trickled from one eye. The woman turned and I saw her arm rise to wipe it away. I felt I should say something; instead I curtseyed and turned to make my way back to Mrs. Carlson.

"You aren't totally stupid." That was all she said then turned to walk deeper into the mall.

"I think Jacqui's hairdo was just perfect for a maid," I heard. "Blue-black doesn't suit you though …in my opinion. I'd like it bright auburn with white bangs. Do be sure it covers no more than half of your ears and is at least an inch above your collar in back, Cindi." She said this without turning, while she walked steadily. "Your nails are to be bright red; matching your lips.

"I also think you'll look much better with full Vegas show-girl stage makeup and very thin, sharp eyebrows about three quarters of an inch above where they are now." It was far too much! I stopped walking. Mrs. Carlson turned immediately to glare at me!

"You are forbidden to speak to me!" I hesitated then curtseyed, very frightened when I saw her push one of the other buttons seven times before her thumb moved towards the red one. Near tears, I curtseyed in defeat.

"I'm confident that you know what sort of makeup I expect to see; you've clearly described it in many of your stories. Do be extra sure that it is heavy enough. I've read all your stories and your image is required to duplicate all of the details you are so good at writing. Further, I expect to see claws on the tips of your fingers.

"Now, do as you were told!" Her arm pointed to the selected beauty parlor. Very reluctantly, I curtseyed again.

*****

What was I going to do Monday morning? With pierced ears and no eyebrows where they should be after the beautician had waxed them completely off, how could I possibly report to work? I also had thick, deeply curved fingernails extending nearly an inch and a half beyond the tips of my fingers. The nail technician had told me that other than ripping out my natural nails, they were nearly impossible to break or take off and about the only way, was to manicure them off using a nail grinder; a tool much like a Dremel tool.

Mrs. Carlson grinned from ear to ear when I approached her then curtseyed. "You look superb, Cindi. I mean that, absolutely fantastic.

"Permission to speak - how do you like your new look?"

"It … it's very…" I was about to say, 'embarrassing'. I looked like a Hollywood porno queen! While I hated the attention I was drawing to myself, I'd also fantasized and given many of my story characters very similar looks and had received many shocks while they'd worked on me. "It's attractive, mum."

"Certainly is. Very much, your new makeup, hair and nails will certainly attract a lot of attention when you go out to do the shopping.

"We're done here, unless there is some quick shopping you need to do?"

"No, mum. There is nothing I need." I wanted to get out of sight as quickly as possible.

The ride began in silence; I'd nothing to say and sat staring at the contrast of my shiny fingernails' bright red against the stark white on my apron in the fading light of mid-October.

"About at this point in your stories, I'd turn here," she flicked on the left turn signal, "we'd stop so you can buy groceries and wine to prepare an elegant meal for my husband and me." I froze; the car slowed to turn into the lot of a large strip mall. Starting to giggle, Mrs. Carlson turned off the blinker and accelerated back into the traffic lane.

With her finger on the remote, Mrs. Carlson motioned me out. "I'll help get you changed into a cuter uniform," she told me once I'd exited her car. In my room, I stripped off the apron, dress and petticoat.

A length of chain with a key on its end hung from a wall ring next to the toilet. It had not been there earlier.

"That will unlock your garter chains and butt plug. You may remove them now." I didn't care that Mrs. Carlson stayed to watch me fumble with the key to do so. Just paying the bill at the salon had taught me how difficult it was going to be to perform even simple tasks. I wondered how I'd ever reapply the long, false lashes glued to my upper lids.

She instructed me to wash and dry the plastic and metal plug then hang everything on hooks next to the vanity. "Remember, Cindi, you are required to have all that locked on when you go outside.

"Sit and use the toilet." Once I stood again, I was instructed how to wash under the shields of the chastity belt then carefully remove the trapped moisture with a blow dryer.

Because of my new fingernails, Mrs. Carlson helped my into the required evening uniform, beginning with long, black latex stockings. The frou-frou from PVC was much louder and crackled differently then what I was used to hearing from taffeta, crinoline or other fabrics. That uniform was in an abbreviated French style with the miniscule white apron and tutu-like petticoat sewn in. After zipping me into it, Mrs. Carlson wrapped the ties of the apron about my corseted waist then did the snaps to position the large, stiff white, preformed bow. I was handed the fan headpiece and shoulder-length latex gloves.

"I hope for your sake that you also didn't lie to me about managing in six-inch heels for the parties you used to serve, Cindi." I swallowed and kept silent. The black patent pumps she carried had heels that high. Mrs. Carlson knelt to put them on for me. I'd not be able to remove the shoes without permission with their ankle straps padlocked.

Though my fingers and hands were covered with tight black latex, slits in the tips of the gloves put the new nails on display.

"I must compliment you, Cindi. Raise your left hand." She placed a ruffed white cuff there. "Right one.

"You did excellently in having the beauticians create a most pleasing image. I do like it, very much. I'll expect to continue to enjoy that look." She paused to meet my eyes. "Am I clear?"

"Yes, mum." I curtseyed.

"Go look at how pretty you are and do it quickly." I was directed to the cheval mirror in the room.

Unlike some of the scenes my stories describe, I had observed my transformation seated at the salon; my new look wasn't any shocking surprise when they'd finished and I was turned to look at their creation upon completion.

Mrs. Carlson tidied the room; hanging the previous uniform and putting the accessories away. I stared at the patent-like, sharply arched eyebrows painted on my forehead, my very long, thick lashes and 'permanent' ones on the lower rims. Using the same black eyeliner, Sharon had rimmed my eyes with arched lines sweeping up from their outer corners and also placing a arc in the upper crease of each after airbrushing the mixture of eye shadows from dark green to pale gold. Once my lips were glistening like the fingernails Kim had created, they too were rimmed with liner. I questioned if I'd be able to duplicate the painting in the morning.

There had been no opportunity to bolt to my car as I'd thought. "Don't even think about it, Cindi." I heard when my head turned to calculate my moves towards freedom in the driveway. "Did I tell you that the control is still set on ten, which is equal to the seventy-five thousand volts delivered by stun guns?"

Mrs. Carlson told me to follow her to the kitchen, interrupting my thoughts.

"I've no doubt that you are as excellent a gourmet chef as you told me after I made those recipes you shared in email. You have free rein of the kitchen. Please us with a nice meal about seven." I was left alone.

Instantly, I started to plan my escape, but nearly fainted when I saw the object lying in the counter next to the door. I wasn't one hundred percent sure exactly what it was; a black cylinder three inches long, half that in diameter with electric terminals on one end and a molded-in thick wire emerging from the other. There was a rubber boot on its outer end, like those on sparkplug wires. Obviously some engine part, it really didn't matter what it was; its purpose being there was clearly a message. Not new, judging from the oily coating, the device had been removed from an engine and would have to be replaced before that engine would start, but with a new one - the fat black wire had been cleanly cut in half.

No, I couldn't be certain that it belonged under the hood of my car, but why else was it there? I could not risk the attempt to bolt for my car and leave - what would I do if my guesses were all correct?

Having worn it for six hours, the corset hurt terribly. At least standing, it was far more tolerable than being seated on a normally comfortable car seat. Standing though was far from comfortable. It was true that I could walk in six-inch high heels and had struggled to serve one party wearing them, but that night they hadn't been locked on my feet and I'd never before worn latex stockings.

I could see very few choices available at the time. It just wasn't right that she'd given me no other options than to obey.

I started my inspection with the contents of one of the two large refrigerators. It was amply stocked with bottles of wine and beer; the other yielded a selection of food. The steaks would keep, as would the large chicken, but fresh fish and shrimp would not. The date stamps indicated most things had been bought that day.

I had the meal completely prepared and waited the proper time to start cooking. Some of the jumbo shrimp were cooling in the refrigerator for shrimp cocktails.

Mrs. Carlson, having changed into a velvet jumpsuit of palest pink came to the dining room where I was setting the table for them.

"How are you coming, Cindi?" she asked when I straightened from my curtsey.

"I'm doing OK, mum."

"Well, for someone who is doing OK, you don't sound very happy. Cheerfully obedient is written into the prime directive." I forced a tiny smile, but was anything but cheerful about the predicament I was in. "That's better.

"Corset hurts, I'm sure, but that's your fault, and you know it. You don't like your new panties - accepted. OK that covers the things I forbid you to mention. What else is wrong; you've permission to complain for now?

Extending my hands I turned them over. "The nails make it very difficult to do things and the gloves are restrictive too," I stated.

"More?"

"We've covered most of it, mum." I still wasn't pleased with the situation. I saw her blue eyes glance at my feet.

"Do you want to tell me those shoes hurt because their heels are so high?" Not awaiting my reply, Mrs. Carlson continued, "I'll tell you something, I'm very pleased that you didn't lie to me, like you did about your waist, when you told me you could walk in heels that high, Cindi. I can see by your straight legs and the way you walk, that you have.

"Despite that I had to punish you earlier, I am extremely happy to have you here for the weekend. I like everything I've seen and learned about you.

"Finish the table later. Come in the kitchen." I followed her there. First she checked on all I'd prepared then selected a bottle of white wine, which she handed to me. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. Fetch two glasses for that from the china cabinet, please?" After a curtsey, I obeyed.

"Open the bottle and pour each of us a glass, please?" Mrs. Carlson seated herself at the kitchen table.

"What's the rule about the maid and furniture?" she asked.

"Unless her chores require it, the maid is not to clutter the furniture by sitting while she's on duty, mum."

"Remember it. However, here in the kitchen, my maid may sit to rest between her chores. You may sit." I pulled out the chair next to her and perched on the edge of it.

Holding up her glass to toast, Mrs. Carlson's eyes directed me to do the same.

"To the happy fulfillment of your fondest dreams. May they all come true for you, not only this weekend, but for the rest of your life. Prost!" The rim of her goblet clicked the crystal I held. We sipped together.

"Now, I want you to sit there and enjoy your wine. Try to think only happy things." She rose with her glass and moved to the archway.

"You may enjoy the rest of the bottle throughout the evening. Oh … be sure you eat between your chores."

*****

"Sit, Cindi," Dr. Carlson said warmly, once I'd cleared the things from the table. His wife left the room, but quickly returned with my nearly full wine glass and the remainder of the bottle I'd opened earlier.

"Is this not to your liking? You've had none of it since you poured, Cindi." Mrs. Carlson asked once seated.

"The wine is fine. I felt it best to save the wine until my chores were completed this evening, mum."

"Consider them complete for this evening then; there is nothing that can't wait until morning," I was ordered. "Now try to relax; Bill and I want to talk with you now." He moved the glass closer to me.

"You've made quite a favorable impression on us since your arrival, Cindi. Though we've not talked together much, I must honestly tell you, that I like your being here." Dr. Carlson spoke in soft tones. I'd confidence he was telling me the truth.

"Diane suggested that the proper way to conduct your job interview would be for you to be standing over there, facing a blank wall and with your wrists cuffed behind your back," he chuckled for a moment. "A kinky girl like you might actually enjoy that, but I'm more comfortable watching your pretty eyes." Again, my imagination was thrown back at me. I'd written that into more than one story. What 'job interview'?

"Diane's told me that you really hate your current job at the circus. You've told her that there is no management and those in that position, are incompetent clowns. I never liked clowns either and I consider many in the medical profession, especially the mis-management of hospitals I've worked in, to be nothing but.

"We would like a full-time, live-in maid. We think you could be much happier with yourself and your job if the most stressful things in your life were deciding an appropriate wine to serve with our meal.

"Oh, by the way, everything was delicious. I've eaten in many excellent restaurants and what you served meets the standards of the best. Thank you for an excellent dinner, Cindi."

"Thank you, sir," I replied softly. I sipped from my glass, which elicited a smile.

"Would you like to entertain what Bill and I offer, Cindi?"

"Yes, please, mum?" Mrs. Carlson returned a big smile.

"Full-time, live-in, room, board, uniforms, accessories, makeup, care items, full medical, dental, prescriptions, optical coverage, one day off in the middle of the week, use of a car … legal services if required as well as investments and other financial services; like taxes are what we offer.

"Have I left anything out, dear?" The latter was asked of his wife.

"Beauty salon, every other week and her wages, Bill," was her response. I saw Mrs. Carlson rub her breast then slide down to pause at her waist when her husband looked over.

"Yes, of course.

"Before I get to monetary matters, you will be given hormones so that you will develop real breasts. Once they have matured … in a few years, you will undergo breast enhancement surgery. I think that you'd like that." I smiled. I did like what I was hearing; certainly the offer being made had tempted me. He smiled then continued, "However, you will be given no choice how large they will be," he paused. "That decision will be ours once the time comes and more than one procedure will probably be required." I knew, without doubt, he was intending they be very large.

"You can begin electrolysis treatments right away and we'll discuss a facelift once that is complete. I think I can make you look ten years younger, if not more.

"Wages will be legal minimum," Dr, Carlson smiled at me. "I did read your Jacqui too. A few shrinks I know would go nuts trying to figure you out after they've read it too. Although I found the ending a bit rushed, it is very good.

"Back to wages. Diane told me that in another story, you wrote provisions so that the maids could earn additional compensation by displaying smaller waists.

"Which story was that in, dear?" he asked her.

"House on the Lake, Bill," was her answer. He laughed.

"Yes, the one with reindeer ponygirls," Dr. Carlson chuckled. "Well, we've no intention to have you as a ponygirl, but you may try to talk us into it, Cindi."

"Huh?" The mention of that story had startled me, as it had never been finished or posted anywhere. "Where did you get that?" Mrs. Carlson answered with only a sly grin.

She took over, "Just like Jacqui, your starting wage is five fifteen an hour and you will be paid only for forty hours though you'll be on duty probably about seventy hours a week. The overtime pays for all the other compensation my husband just told you. If it didn't, you'd have to pay taxes on most of those benefits, Cindi.

"This morning you were laced down to your maximum permitted waist of twenty-eight inches. For every inch of further reduction, up to six, your pay is increased one dollar an hour or forty dollars a week. With a twenty-two inch waist, you'll be paid eleven fifteen an hour. For each inch below that, the increase is three dollars an inch - thirty-five fifteen for achieving the idealized Victorian goal of eighteen inches.

"If you ever want to earn even more, you can try for a pipe stem and will be paid five dollars for the first inch and a half then five dollars for each half inch higher than that. Easily, you can find your self earning nearly a quarter million a year with a three inch stem on an eighteen inch waist."

I started to laugh. "Easily, mum? I don't think you realize quite what you are expecting from me." I was going to say more, but Mrs. Carlson cut me off.

"I'm expecting that you will accept our offer to get out of your crappy job and live your life of fantasy. I do expect you to have a twenty-two inch waist and don't consider that impossible, though the other goals might not be achievable. For that, you'll be paid about twenty-three thousand a year with no expenses - none; we covered just about all we could think of. Bill forgot to tell you that your room is already connected to the TV cable with all the premium channels and high speed broadband too.

"If you want a phone, the jack is wired, but you have to pay for the service charges. With permission, you may place personal calls from the phone in the kitchen, but their charges will be deducted. For now, you are not permitted to receive any phone calls during your duty hours.

"You don't have a tenth of that much disposable income now and never will with your current employer." I had a lot to think about.

"May I ask questions, so I fully understand the offer, mum?" She looked to her husband to answer them.

"The chastity belt, plug and thigh band rules, hair, makeup, uniforms, heels and corsets are not subject to any negotiations," he began. "Ask what you wish to know, Cindi."

"You want me to be your slave…" I was cut off before I could finish.

"That's not correct; certainly not the way Diane and I view our proposal. We want you to be our highly compensated maid. You've surely understood the monetary incentives that were offered to you for that. Yes, you will be expected to dress and groom as we, not you might desire and to obey all orders given to you, but you are free to leave at any time you wish. A slave does not have that option; it's a very important distinction. If you don’t like the orders you are given and choose being punished instead of obeying, that is your choice. You are free to leave after completing the punishment you earned.

"Should you make such an unwise decision, it will be final." Dr. Carlson let that sink in.

"Will I be required to give you sex, sir?" I had to ask. His wife responded.

"I've already answered that. We'll never order you to sexually satisfy anyone. That will be entirely up to you within the limits of your chastity belt."

I sat quietly for a few minutes, fumbling with the talons adorning my fingertips; they were really going to take quite a bit of effort becoming accustomed to.

"Sir?" I raised my head to meet his eyes. "May I talk about this chastity belt, please?"

"You may, Cindi," it was Mrs. Carlson who answered. "You may even complain, a little, if you want to. Go ahead."

"It was stated that it's not negotiable," I began. "Please at least turn it off, mum? I can't control the way my body reacts and it's been shocking me ever since it was applied." She looked to him and silently communicated before returning her eyes to me.

"No," her word was soft. "I don't think that is a good idea. You told me that you really are a girl, inside, if not physically. Girls do not get erections when they become aroused, only guys do and you're no man." She wasn't mocking me, even if paraphrasing my own words.

"We are going to get you examined and started on female hormones this week so your breasts can start to develop. There are side effects to a girl like you taking hormones; one of those is that with a testosterone blocker added, the male libido becomes considerably diminished. Not all girls take that additive in their daily cocktail. It will be your choice, but with a price." She was trapping me into something.

"What is the price, mum?" I asked.

"You also agree to take an additive that will induce all the fun symptoms of a menstrual cycle with the exception of the vaginal discharges. If you want to stop being shocked every time you start to swell there, you may ask for a testosterone block, but you can then also expect PMS every twenty-five days; otherwise, learn to eliminate your male thoughts. Your belt will help to teach you to do that."

Dr, Carlson expanded on the hormones. "Even without the extras my wife mentioned added, Cindi, you can expect otherwise unexpected mood swings; even crying at times, for no good reason. Research, so far, cannot predict these, or their effects; some girls respond much differently than others. There should be a widening of your pelvic structure from what I see of your body and a reduction in upper body strength. Most of the other side effects you've probably read are pure fiction. Your beard doesn't disappear or even get to be less and your voice doesn't change." I knew that.

"Can you change my voice, sir? I've read that there are surgical procedures which can accomplished that."

"There are, but I'm not familiar with the details and I'm not qualified for that sort of surgery. I do think it is a good idea, however," he answered. "I'll check with some colleagues and learn what's involved.

"More questions?"

"Sir, you said that I will have use of a car … I don't think it was right for you to disable mine the way you did." He scowled at me.

"What are you talking about? I've done nothing to disable you car." I knew he was lying to me. Instead of answering him with words, I went in the kitchen then returned with the coil, or whatever it was, on a paper towel.

"You removed that from the engine and cut the wire so I couldn't escape," I firmly stated after I sat down. "It isn't right that you can destroy my property."

"Listen to me, girl," Dr. Carlson was angry. "I said you are free to leave at any time. You are not our slave and being kept here against your will.

"That," he pointed to the part, "is from the lawn tractor. The wire chafed and I removed it to see if I could splice it in order to finish mowing the lawn. It was left on the counter to remind me to go to the store and buy a replacement." I felt small; it was me being paranoid to have thought what I had about him.

"I apologize, sir.

"May I know what my duties will be if I am to be your maid, please?"

"Mostly everything that Melissa and Jacqui's duties were for Carla, Cindi. You'll not be our chauffeuse and not responsible for vehicle or yard maintenance. Our maid will be required to keep the house spotless, including the front porch, patio and pool. Our maid will do windows too," she giggled. "Be pleased that it's only a one story house. There's making up the rooms, laundry, meals, shopping for the house etc.

"Did I forget anything, Bill?"

"No, I think that it's pretty well covered by just saying that Cindi will have Jacqui's job here." Dr. Carlson faced me.

"There will be a mutually satisfactory contract drawn up which will detail everything we've discussed this evening. For now, I think you know just about all, at least enough to start." His wife had one more not so little detail to tell me.

"Cindi, we are going to require you to have some body jewelry. My husband has a fetish for it, but I absolutely refuse to wear what he'd like." Mrs. Carlson looked at me for a moment then explained, "We want you to wear a nose ring, a tongue ring plus a rod through it and, once your breasts start to develop, nipple rings." The chastity belt zapped me several times, causing me to squirm about until my mind controlled my reactions to a deep fetish of my own.

"I think our maid likes the idea of that, dear." He chuckled.

"Yes, those are written into quite a few of her stories too. Lil' Jacqui was just a little to vanilla to display them," she smiled. "Isn't that right, Cindi?"

"Well … I think she would have too, mum, but, Kelly Ann Rogers, my co-writer, would have put her foot down if I even suggested that for Jacqui. It was hard enough to have her agree to Jacqui's waist and six-inch heels." I gave them a little smile.

"May I think of all we've discussed, before I decide, please?" I asked.

"Certainly, Cindi, but we all know you've already decided," she stood with a smile.

"Come, I'll put the maid to bed now." I curtseyed to her husband after I stood.

"Good night, Cindi."

"Good night, sir."

As I knew I needed help with my uniform, I gave no thought to Mrs. Carlson's phrase about 'putting the maid to bed'. In my room, as expected, she helped me out of my dress and the gloves.

"You know that you are going to be sleeping in your corsets, Cindi. If that detail it is not in one of your stories, it's in a hundred. Some even have the girl sleeping in ballet boots to train her feet, but those will come later." Yes, I knew she was repeating things I'd written many times over. If the girl in my stories, now I, was going to train her figure properly, sleeping in her tightly laced corset was requisite and her heels I'd written in too. "Twenty-three hours a day with an hour maximum to bathe and change into a fresh corset.

"OK, you may remove your makeup." I'd little to say, the belt was uncomfortably reminding me of all that was happening. "Be sure to clean your earrings and rotate them as I'm sure the girl told you to do.

The long nails weren't that much of a hindrance to removing the glued on lashes or the rest of my makeup with cold cream, but when I was through, I still looked like I was wearing makeup. The lipstick Sharon, the beautician, had used was one of the 'long-lasting' varieties that applies a dye to your skin. Before she'd glued on the long curled stage lashes, she had carefully attached long, individual ones to my upper and lower eyelids. I was told they should last about a month before a refill would be needed. The hardest thing for me to get used to seeing was the hairdo and no longer having any eyebrows. I smoothed on moisturizer and returned to the bedroom.

"Fetch your thigh bands, Cindi; you'll wear them to bed." Mrs. Carlson was again testing me. I did as I was told.

"Give me your hands." Seeing what was coming next, I sighed and held them out. Yes, I didn't need to be told that the new maid would not be permitted to yield to the strong temptation to remove her corset or even loosen her laces; that should never be allowed for a girl entering a strict figure-training program. I did not need to be told this when Mrs. Carlson did; I'd written it. Damn! The belt began to deliver the shocks while my hands were forced into tight fists inside the black leather discipline mitts that soon encased them. Their stout leather cuffs were snugged tightly about my wrists then restrained to the steel band over my hips with the padlocks to the garter chains.

"Get in bed, Cindi." My chastity belt continued to shock when I sat on the black plastic sheet that was revealed by her turning back the covers.

"Roll on your side so I can plug you in."

"Plug me in, mum?" I was having a blonde moment. Of course, the battery pack at the back of my chastity belt needed to be recharged.

Once I was tucked in, Mrs. Carlson had one more surprise. I shouldn't have been, but I was unprepared for a steel chain being locked to the front ring of my collar.

"Your leash is long enough for you to reach the toilet should you need to during the night. You'll have some time to learn to sleep though the night before the decision to stay in bed or not is no longer yours." Damn it! The belt was constantly delivering its painful punishment to my sex. Plugged in and no longer dependent upon batteries which had consumed much of their electric charge, these were much more intense.

I heard her enter the bathroom then running water for a few seconds. Mrs. Carlson returned to the bedside in the darkened room.

"I filled your bowl with water and placed it on the floor should you get thirsty. Sleep well and I'll be in to help you in the morning." She bent over to lightly kiss my lips.

"Good night, pleasant dreams, Cindi."

"Good night, mum."

My head was swimming with thoughts of all that had happened to me that day and what lay in my future. There was no need to worry about going back to my job on Monday; no decision was necessary; I'd made it long before I fell asleep despite the pain being delivered in my crotch.

 

 

 

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© 2003 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 express written consent of the copyright holder.