ManMaid
by Gennie TV
Part 5 ----
It was as if I were in the theater watching a movie, the camera closes in on the heroine's silk clad arm as she slowly stretches her red manicured fingers towards the doorknob. The frills on the sleeve of her almost transparent blouse obscuring all but her delicate fingers as they wrap around the knob. In my turbulent mind that hand is reaching out and gently grabbing for my imprisoned cock, causing it to stir to life, to become ready for its intended purpose a purpose that would once again be thwarted by its all too restrictive prison. As my cock hardens, the pain begins, I gasp as my mind attempts to continue in its fantasy, but my body requires a return to reality. The fantasy gone, the pain becoming severe my little precious returns to sleep mode as I pull the door open and hobble out into the bright summer sun. Again I have to remind myself that I am a man and that I am dressed in skirt and blouse through no choice of my own, and that I do not enjoy wearing women's clothes.
"I'm a man! Men don't enjoy wearing skirts!" I cried aloud to myself but, it seemed I was becoming ever more difficult to convince. Encountering the heat of the outside after the comfort of our air conditioned home was like walking into a wall. I would never have imagined that so much sweat could flow from my body in such a short time, but between my sweet satin corset, my whisper light satin slip, and the heavyweight pantyhose, perspiration was immediate and profuse. I swear I could feel the sweat running down my nylon encased legs, into the heels of my torture shoes, snaking down the incline of my arches, and pooling in the pointy little toes at the end of my shoes. The wetness spreading throughout my corset, eliciting a nearly unbearable itch that no matter how hard I tried the best I could do was to rub satin against satin which not only did not help, it served to make matters worse. The more I attempted to scratch the more aroused I would become. The wobble out to car seemed to take forever, one short little step after another, a walk that should have taken seconds, in my heightened state of arousal and extended sense of time, took hours and nobody will convince me otherwise. In my mind I was convinced that people were there at bushes watching me hobble around, laughing and making fun of the sissy in the tight skirt and high heels with the swaying ass and bouncing tits. With every mincing step I heard the click of my heels on the cement. The sound assailing my ears convincing me that someone would soon call the police because of all the noise. But I was on a mission I could not afford to stop, I had to get to the garage door and get those pictures Debbie had said she had posted. I should have known they would not be there by the time I got there instead I found remains of tape and another note from my loving wife.
"Dear gennie,
You silly girl did you really think that I would leave valuable pictures of my precious little sissy out in the open where they might get damaged? Of course we took them down as soon as we got home; Karin still thinks we should post them on the job board at the supermarket. What do you think? It might be fun to have you stand there as people look at the pictures and see if they recognize you. Karin has some wonderful ideas sometimes don't you think? Are your pantyhose feeling a little warm yet? How about your shoes are your feet sloshing in your sweat yet? Oh and I'll bet that corset has started to itch something awful by now hasn't it dear? Oh the little inconveniences that we 'girls' must endure to look good for our men. Don't you just love it?
Times-a-wastin' darlin' best get the packages out of the car and into the house before we think that you decided that you've had enough and tried to run, ohhh oops I mean, mince-away and we lock the door. By this time Karin is ready to do your make- over and style your hair so that you are presentable at your meeting. So hurry dear, wiggle that cute little ass of yours and get back in the house.
Love,
D.
Again she has predicted my actions. I had actually forgotten about the itching under my corset, and the hot and sticky feeling of the pantyhose against my legs until it was mentioned in her note. Now the itching hit again with a vengeance. Attempts at scratching that ever pervasive itch yielding the same erotic results as my previous efforts and I was again reminded of my chastity. I had little choice but to continue on my errand and retrieve the packages from her car. I still hoped that the sooner I got the packages and got back into the house the sooner I could be released from my portable prison.
With a sigh limited by the restriction of my satin prison I hobbled to the car to retrieve the packages my lovely wife had sent me for. I thought little of my situation as I opened the car door. The polish on my nails glinting in the sun; My new tits jiggling as moved out of the way for the door to open. My feet now somewhat accustomed to the height of the heels and my restricted gate, my movements were on autopilot as I attempted to reach into the back seat of the car to retrieve the packages. My hands and arms were reaching but my waist was not bending as my nose made a gallant effort to keep my face from coming in contact with the roof of the car. I came to the immediate conclusion that simply bending over and reaching into the car would not work. Rubbing my damaged nose I turned my back to the car and bending at the hips I stuck my padded and oversized butt into the car and sat somewhat ungraciously (more like fell) onto the back seat of the car. I was then able to raise my feet, knees together of course, and swing them into the car. Taking time to catch my breath I realized that I had just entered the car in the same manner that I had watched Debbie do on those rare occasions that I could get her to dress as a woman should, short tight skirts and high heels. Was this one of those simple movements that was made "difficult" because of a skirt and heels that she had referred to in her note to me earlier? Well it was certainly awkward, but nothing that should keep a woman from dressing properly (of course at that time I had only done it once and had not yet tried to exit the vehicle, what a difference time and experience make in a person's attitude).
Resisting the urge to search through the packages I gathered them together in my hands and attempted to get up out of the car. My attempt to swing my right leg out the door was of course unsuccessful the skirt demanding that I move my left leg at the same time. I found that I would have to scoot my butt to the edge of the seat and swing both legs out simultaneously, once again knees together in a very feminine manner. My attempts to rise however were anything but feminine. I tried to stand with my hands full of packages, but without the ability to bend my waist or spread my feet for balance the best I could accomplish was a slight rocking motion. I thought about putting the packages back on the seat so that I could use my hands but the pain in my nose reminded me of the futility of that idea.
I finally came to the realization that my only way out was to sit and wait for the "girls" to take pity on me and come out and help (which I knew was not going to happen) or find some way to get the packages out of the car so that I could pick them up from the ground. So at the risk of damaging what was to be my new attire I threw the items out onto the driveway and used my hands to grab the frame around the door to pull myself up. What I sight I must have been. My arms outstretched, my hands groping for the door frame, my newfound tits jutting proudly from my chest swaying like a Jell-o mold with every movement. My satin clad butt sliding against the satin of my whisper light slip, sliding against my nylon clad legs sent shivers up my spine and caused my hands to tremble. Only my determination to prove that I could succeed kept me going. Struggling to an upright position, my knees wobbling, my breath coming in short restricted gasps, I felt as though I had just done a hundred pull ups. Almost unconsciously I used my open palms to smooth my skirt back into its intended position. My mind elated with my accomplishment, my whole body alive with the electric sensations elicited by my satin prison, I hurriedly squatted to collect my new packaged wardrobe and began my trek back to the safety (safety?) of the house.
The walk (mince) back to the house, my arms loaded with shopping bags from department stores and lingerie shops, my mind filled with images of my father's disapproving visage, and my body alive with the sensations of my attire, was entirely too brief a time for me to prepare for what I was about to encounter.
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