HER VERY OWN SISSY

[littlebetsy]

HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 1

“Oh, Mommy, it’s such a femmy little thing!” Mandy squealed as the shiny wrapping paper came off her birthday present. Mandy’s braided blond pigtails danced in the air as she jumped with excitement.

Standing before her was a frail creature, barely five feet high, with milk white skin, very large blue eyes, and blond hair styled in a cute Shirley Temple perm.  The little thing was attired in white Mary Jane shoes, pink stockings, stiff white petticoats and a tiny pink dress that scarcely attempted to hide the adorable frilly pink panties underneath.

Mandy approached this living doll and let her fingers play with the enormous ribbon in the sissy’s hair and with the puffed sleeves of its satin dress.

“Oh, Mommy, what’s its name?”

Mrs. Daniels smiled and tossed back her long mane of light brown curls.  “Tell Mandy your name, dear.”

For a moment the girlish thing said nothing, its blue eyes growing larger and its glossy lower lip trembling uncontrollably.  Finally, its elfin mouth opened, and a tiny voice squeaked, “M-m-my name isth Muffin, and I’m a thissy.”  This announcement was followed by a well-practiced curtsy.

Mandy and Mrs. Daniels both burst into laughter -- for what the thing said and for the ridiculously high pitch of its voice.

“Muffin!  It’s the perfect name for such a little fairy,” Mandy declared, regaining her composure.  “I can’t believe it! My very own sissy, and it just couldn’t look any sweeter.  I can’t wait to show it off to Karen.”  Karen was Mandy’s best friend -- and fiercest rival.  The two were generally acknowledged to be the smartest, prettiest and most athletic girls at Winship Academy.  And they were in a constant two-person race for over-achievement.  Karen excelled at math, but Mandy scored higher in Latin.  Karen was the better gymnast, but Mandy usually beat her on the tennis court.  Only in cheerleading, were the two girls equals, sharing the rank of co-captains of the squad.  When Karen turned 16, her parents gave her a red convertible sports car.  Three months later on Mandy’s birthday, she asked for and received the very same make of car, only in black. 

The following year, Karen’s birthday present was something that more and more affluent families were getting for their spoiled daughters:  her very own sissy.  It was a lovely little confection with long red hair, pale freckled skin and a turned-up nose.  Its name was Shortcake and became Karen’s prized possession.  Visiting one sissy store after another, Karen bought dozens of frilly, skimpy, outrageously femmy outfits for the diminutive pansy and led it around like a puppy everywhere -- to school, to cheerleading practice, to the mall on Saturdays.  Karen even dragged Shortcake along on dates with her boyfriend Roger, the devilishly handsome star quarterback of the football team. 

One Sunday morning Karen confided to Mandy, “I got home at two a.m. last night.  I don’t know whose clothes and makeup were more mussed up, mine or Shortcake’s!”

“Don’t you get jealous when Roger touches Shortcake?”

“Of course not, silly!  Who could be jealous of a stupid little plaything like Shortcake?  Besides, it takes the pressure off me.  Roger is horny 24/7 and gets to do things to Shortcake that I won’t let him do to me.”

Mandy and Karen then dissolved into giggles.

Not to be outdone, Mandy whined to her mother for weeks about getting her own sissy.  “Please, Mommy, I promise I’ll train it, dress it, supervise it, and spank it whenever it’s bad.  Karen’s sissy does all the housework, and Karen’s mom loves it.  Her mom says Shortcake is -- what’s the word? -- ‘orally talented’ and great for relieving stress and tension.” 

All Mrs. Daniels would say was, “We’ll see, darling.”  But Mandy could tell from her mother’s sly smile that she had already been convinced.  This morning Mandy knew exactly what was in the big package even before she undid the ribbon.           

“I love it already,” Mandy exclaimed and placed her arms around the petite sissy’s waist to hold it close.  At this attention, her pink birthday present sighed deeply and fluttered its long eyelashes.  “Mmmm, it even smells like a baby,” said Muffin’s new owner. “ I bet it cost a lot didn’t it?”

“Yes, Muffin was the most expensive sissy in the showroom,” admitted Mrs. Daniels as she balled up the wrapping paper that the gift had been concealed in.  “But I couldn’t resist the little thing.  I want you to know that of all the pansies available for purchase this month, Muffin is the one that was most like a little girl.”

“No kidding!  I swear it looks just like a six-year old, and that squeaky voice is so funny!  Let’s hear it again.  Whose little sissy are you, Muffin?”

The pathetic thing blushed, curtseyed and then squeaked, “I’m pwoperty of Missth Mandy Danielsth.”

Mandy whooped and bounced up and down in delight, her blond braids and short cheerleading skirt flying up and down.  “Oh, I can’t wait to buy it some silly-frilly clothes and take it to school with me Monday!  I’ll be the envy of every girl -- including Karen!”

(To be continued.)

[Anonymous]

HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 2



“I’ve already bought a few starter outfits for the sissy,” Mrs. Daniels explained.  â€œIt has a little sun suit, a short nightie, a ballet outfit, a blue velvet dress for going out at night, and a half dozen extra-fancy panties.  They are all hanging in my bedroom closet.”



“Awesome!  I want to try each one on Muffin right now!  C’mon, prissy pants!”



“Um, Mandy, there is one thing you should know about your new sissy.”



“What, Mommy?”



“With its little-girl clothes on, Muffin looks like it could be your younger sister.  But underneath it’s really a boy.”



“Well, duh!” said the pretty cheerleader with a roll of her eyes. “That’s what a sissy is -- a boy who’s a weakling.  You know, a fairy that can be pushed around and made to wear girl clothes or baby clothes and do whatever you tell it to do. Of course I know it’s got a little pecker in its panties.  Don’t forget, I’ve seen Shortcake lots of times with its panties pulled down for spankings.”



“Yes, but Shortcake has a tiny pen-is, doesn’t it, darling?”



Mandy tittered at the thought.  â€œYeah, it looks like a little baby’s.  Even when it’s hard it’s still less than two inches.  That’s why Shortcake is a sissy.  Sissies don’t have regular pen-ises like real guys.”



“Yes, but some sissies may be a little bigger in that area.”



Mandy’s beautiful face frowned for the first time that morning.  â€œSo what are you saying?



Mrs. Daniels turned to the little thing in curls and ruffles. “Muffin, be a good sissy and hold your petticoats up in front.”



“Yesth, ma’am,” it lisped, and complied by pulling the mass of white taffeta above its waist.  The self-supporting pink stockings and pink panties with white ruffles were now on full display.



Mrs. Daniels knelt beside the nervous creature and placed her fingers behind the elastic waistband of its panties.  The cool touch of the sexy woman’s soft hands was electrifying; the sissy trembled and became slightly unsteady.



“Be still, baby, or you’ll be spanked!”  Mrs. Daniels said sharply.  Then with a single quick jerk, the dainty panties were brought down to Muffin’s ankles.



Mandy stared in shock.  Standing before her was, in all respects but one, a simpering girlish figure:  a cherubic face framed with golden curls, a petite torso with very narrow waist, long slender legs.  The picture was spoiled only by the unsightly pen-is that hung between the stocking tops.  Not only was the thing at least three inches in length, it was growing in size and rigidity even as Mandy and her mother gazed at it.  On any normal boy the pen-is would look average, perhaps a bit less than average in size.  But on a little-girl sissy, it looked positively grotesque.



“Oh my god!” breathed Mandy “It’s got a guy’s dic-k!  What kind of sissy would have a regular guy’s dic-k?  I hate it!  Take it away, Mommy!  It’s gross!  It’s hideous!  I don’t want it!”



“But darling, it’s a perfectly lovely sissy with its panties on.  You’ll be able to dress it and play with it and boss it around just like Karen does with Shortcake.”



“I don’t want it.  It’s not a real sissy.  Real sissies have little baby dic-kies.  That’s what makes them so funny and cute.  This is a freak.  Take it back and get me another one.”



“I’m sorry, Mandy  It’s a non-refundable purchase.”



“Then take out a classified ad or sell it on e-Bay.  Lots of girls I know want to have their own sissy.”



“Young lady, I’ve gone to a great deal of expense for you.  I think you should at least give it a chance.”



“I don’t want it, I said!  It’s a, um . . . monstrosity.  If you keep it here, I’ll be mean to it.  I’ll make its life miserable.  I’ll make the little thing suffer and cry all day long!”



Mandy balled her fists and stamped her foot.  A teen girl used to having her own way is a terrible force of nature.  One can only pity whatever stands in her way -- especially something much smaller and weaker like the dainty sissy named Muffin.



(To be continued.)

[Anonymous]

HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 3

“Mandy!” exclaimed Mrs. Daniels.  “You can’t punish your plaything out of meanness.  You should only discipline a sissy for disobedience.”

The girl pouted, her green eyes glowing with malice, her proud chest heaving under her crossed arms.  “Fine.  Then you can punish it now.  A sissy isn’t supposed to act like a boy.  But just look at the brat.  It’s got an erection and it’s pointing it at me!  Have you ever seen anything so rude?”

Mrs. Daniels stood up and placed her hands on her hips.  Her daughter was right, of course.  Controlling erections was a part of any proper training program for an effeminate slave.  The ideal sissy thought only of pleasing its owner, not itself.

Mrs. Daniels tapped her foot.  “Muffin, get rid of that erection right now!”

Muffin reached down to push the ugly pointing member back between its legs.  But Mrs. Daniels would have none of it.

“Sissy, shame on you!  Did I tell you to drop your petticoats or touch your naughty wee-wee?”

“N-n-no, ma’am,” it stuttered, and hurriedly pulled the petticoats back up, only to show that the pen-is, which had by now brushed against the stiff taffeta, was even harder than before.

“You get only one warning in this household, missy!  I won’t repeat it!”  The ominous tapping of Mrs. Daniel’s foot continued.

The pathetic sissy was in a terrible panic.  Its hairless crotch and fanny were fully exposed to the relentless and disdainful gaze of two very sexy ladies.  Despite her anger and hostility, the blond cheerleader had cast a powerful spell over the trembling creature in ribbons and lace.  The petticoated fairy was completely undone by Mandy’s haughty, heartbreakingly perfect face, her smooth, athletic legs flexing beneath the short skirt, and her assertive young br*asts straining against her tight uniform.  And, her mother, a stunning professional model, was also provocatively attired, in tight white short-shorts and tube top.  As a sissy, Muffin knew that any command must be followed instantly and without thinking.  But the loveliness of the women left it weak, helpless and unable to master the throbbing hardness between its legs.   

“That’s it, princess, time’s up,” said Mrs. Daniels with a toss of her long brown curls. “Give me your hand, Muffin.  We’re going to show you how sissies who try to act like boys get punished.”

The dainty thing in pink burst into tears, but nonetheless surrendered its little hand to Mrs. Daniels as instructed.  She led it out of the living room with a determined, brisk stride.  Unfortunately, for the disobedient sissy, its panties were still gathered at its ankles and the silly thing could barely keep up with the tall woman’s long, graceful steps.  Inevitably the pansy tripped and fell forward, provoking a peal of giggles from Mandy. Undeterred, Mrs. Daniels simply yanked the frail thing back to its feet and continued. Muffin’s tragic, frightened sobs filled the room but fell on indifferent ears.

A smile had returned to Mandy’s exquisite lips. Her whole body thrilled at the sight of the panty-hobbled fairy being led to its first punishment. Maybe this frilly toy could be more than just a status symbol to dangle in front of her friends.  Why couldn’t a sissy be punished out of meanness?  Tormenting her little crybaby with its absurd outsized dic-k might prove quite entertaining. She thought for a moment and then skipped lightly down the hall after her mother and Muffin.

Maybe her birthday present would turn out to be fun after all.

(To be continued)

[Anonymous]

HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 4

When Mandy entered her mother’s expensively decorated bedroom she found Mrs. Daniels in the midst of preparations for Muffin’s punishment.  A straight-backed chair had been placed in front of the red velvet bed bench.  Mrs. Daniels had also assembled a dozen or so white Velcro straps.  The sissy was ordered to sit in the chair and Mrs. Daniels proceeded to attach its slender wrists to the chair’s back and its darling pink-stockinged ankles and knees to the chair’s front legs.  Longer straps around the puny creature’s torso held up the front of its dress and petticoats and made sure that the precious prisoner would have scant room to wriggle during the ordeal.  The lovely woman in the white short-shorts and tube top went about these duties cheerfully, smiling and humming to herself as if she were engaged in a mundane task such as putting on earrings or lipstick.

Finally with everything in place, she a took a seat on the bench in front of the bound fairy and with a pat of her hand indicated that Mandy was to sit next to her.  All the while the naughty sissy’s whimpering had only increased.  The poor thing had no idea what terror awaited it, and its little brain could only fear the worse.  Nonetheless, its insolent p*nis had lost none of its rigidity -- due in large part to the close proximity of the stunning disciplinarian, her intoxicating perfume, and the teasing, caressing touches she employed in securing Muffin to the chair.   

Mrs. Daniels began the drama by slowly pulling on a pair of white latex gloves.  She then leaned forward, gazed directly into the sissy’s wide, blue, tear-filled eyes and gently touched its thigh just where the pink stocking top ended.

In a whisper dripping with equal parts innocence and seduction, the beautiful woman said, “Muffin, dear, do you know why you’re being punished?”

Sob.  “Y-y-yesth.”  Sob.

“Tell me why, sweetie.”

Sob.  “M-m-my widdle wee-wee g-g-got stiff. And . . . and it isthn’t thupposthed to.”

“That’s right, precious.  Little fairies like you have to keep their wee-wees nice and soft and teensy-weensy. Do you know why that is, Muffin?”

The abject creature opened its little pink lips to speak.  Unfortunately the poor thing’s feeble brain could not provide it with any words to express.

“But I insist on an answer, little sissy.”  A moment passed, as Muffin struggled to respond.  Finally the alluring woman sighed with affected regret.  “Poor thing.  Perhaps this will help you to think.”  With that, she picked up a small hairbrush.  Barely five inches in length, it was made of pink plastic with white bristles.  Mandy guessed that it was intended for a child, for brushing her doll’s hair or her own. 

With her other gloved hand the smirking woman grasped Muffin’s erect member at its base and jerked down, making the taut skin even tighter.  Never had Muffin been touched there by so beautiful a woman, and the sissy emitted an adorable gasp.

“See if this helps, baby,” she drawled with mock concern and began gently stroking the head of the naughty sissy-pen-is. With each stroke the tiny bristles of the little girl’s hairbrush rasped against the tight purplish tip of Muffin’s boy-thing.  As she performed this service, Mrs. Daniels resumed humming a gentle melody.  Mandy recognized it as “London Bridges Falling Down.”

However, the tune could hardly be heard over the bound fairy’s girlish but piercing screams.

“Eeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeee!”  The silly little pansy strained at its bounds, tried to escape, tried to stop the terrible little pink brush, tried to wiggle its little pelvis out of reach.  But the lovely Mrs. Daniels had done her job well. Muffin was firmly restrained and there to stay.  The gentle stroking and humming continued.

 â€œEeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeee! Eeeeeeeeee!  Oh, pwease sthop it!”   

Mandy squealed with laughter.  She knew that sissies were weaklings, but she never imagined that anyone could be reduced to infantile screams so quickly and with such modest chastisement.

“God, what a ridiculous little crybaby!” jeered Mandy between laughs.  “I’ve never seen anything so silly. You barely touched it with that baby’s brush and it begs for mercy.  What a wimp!  How pathetic it is!  Just listen to all the fuss it’s making. Eee-eee-eee, pwease sthop,” mocked the snooty teen girl imitating the fairy’s squeaky lisp.  Mandy then surrendered to another convulsion of laughter.

Mrs. Daniels grinned at her daughter’s uncanny mimicry and nodded.  “Yes, your darling princess went from little girl to baby girl in just two seconds.”

“Well, good! It deserves to be punished just for being such a spineless coward,” said Mandy, her green eyes glowing with the foretaste of future cruelty.  “Brush its rude dic-kie harder, Mommy!”

(To be continued)

[Anonymous]

HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 5

But instead of resuming the discipline, Mrs. Daniels put down the child’s brush and leaned back to survey her handiwork.  The tiny face of Mandy’s new sissy toy was quite red and wet with tears.  Its little chest huffed and puffed and wheezed.  The poor thing’s tiny hands, bound at the wrists to the back of the chair, groped the air but found nothing to grasp.  Its childish feet in their white patent leather shoes could not touch the floor and twisted purposelessly.  Truly the sissy suffered.  Yet despite all, its disobedient pen-is had not completely shrunk.  More punishment was in order.   

“Oh, little Muffinnnnn?”  Mrs. Daniels sang sweetly.  “What did I ask youuuuu?  Why do little fairieeeees have to keep their little wee-weeeees nice and teensy-weeeeensy?”

The frightened thing choked back a sob and lisped in desperation, “B-becausth thissthies can’t have a nasthty bulge in their pantiesth.”

Its sexy tormentor clapped her gloved hands in delight. Perhaps this silly creature was not completely brainless after all.  “Very good, baby!  We can’t have you ruining those adorable little prissy pants by stretching them with that ugly wee-wee -- or worse, leaving a horrid sissy stain on them! I spent over $400 on your fancy panties alone.  I promise, sweetie, for every pair you spoil, your fanny and wee-wee will pay dearly.”

Mandy was both startled and ecstatic to hear her mother’s threat.  If the nasty p*nis of Mandy’s effeminate plaything was constantly rearing out of control, she could look forward to frequent punishment sessions like this one.

“Oh, Mommy, can I have a turn brushing Muffin’s naughty thingie with the hairbrush?”

Mrs. Daniels smiled and tilted her beautiful head to one side. “Someday soon, darling.  Today I want you to watch closely so that you’ll know just how to deal with this kind of disobedience. Pay attention and you will see how we turn sissy brats into little angels.  First of all, we must be careful not to stroke our fairy in such a way to provoke ej*culation.”

“Gross!” sneered the fastidious pigtailed girl.

“Secondly, one has to avoid going too far in administering pain.  We want to correct our little pansy, not break it.”

But to the spoiled blond teen, the idea of breaking this absurd creature was an absolutely  thrilling prospect.  She wanted her own hands to control the punishment brush.  Her own hands to force the stiffness out of the insubordinate p*nis.  It was to her alone that Mandy wanted the tearful fairy to plead for mercy.  Oh, to be able to prolong or suspend pain at her own playful whim.  To make poor Muffin a terrified dependent of Mandy’s fickleness.  What power!  And what if she did “break” it, whatever that meant?  Couldn’t her mother always buy her another?

Mrs. Daniels turned back to the sissy and continued in her singing, teasing voice:  “Baby’s little wee-weeeee is still not behavinnnnng!”

“No, pwease!” squeaked the sissy, “Pwease don’t wub my wee-wee no more.  I’ll be a good widdle thissthy!”

“Of course you will, precious,” said Mrs. Daniels, once more taking hold of the rebellious organ.  “After our little hairbrush party today, little lambie-pie won’t dare let that bad old wee-wee disrespect me or Miss Mandy or any of the outrageous little girlie panties we put over it.”

The brushing resumed, and the fairy squirmed and wept and wailed like a baby in need of a diaper change. This time, Mrs. Daniels accompanied the brushing of her miserable captive with a lecture.

“You see, sweetheart,” said the sexy professional model in her softest, most tantalizing voice, “not only must we protect your adorable sissy panties from harm, but you have to get it into your pathetic little brain that erections are reserved for boys and men only.  A normal male is allowed to make love and get stiff and have wonderful, powerful orgasms because he has earned that right. Normal men are handsome and strong and brave and make good providers and lovers.  Their reward for that is to be able to shoot their spunk while in the embrace of a lovely woman.  But, you, princess, could never give a woman any of the things she gets from a real man.   Your only talent is to lisp and mince and curtsy and be a little dolly for the amusement of young ladies.  You’re a toy, a decoration, a pretty bracelet for a high-spirited teen girl to wear around her ankle.  That’s all you are and all you’ll ever be.”

By now the punished pansy had abandoned its futile squirming and sat quite still with mouth agape and eyes glazed over.  Whether from the cruel brush strokes or the cruel words, Muffin’s shameless little pen-is had at last retreated to its original flaccid and harmless state. Mrs. Daniels allowed herself a smile of delicious triumph as she studied the chastened phallus.  She had defeated her opponent with a quick, ruthlessly efficient attack.  And now her foe lay where she had dropped it:  small, shriveled and a threat to no one.  The victorious woman put down her tiny pink weapon and removed the latex gloves, which she then contemptuously tossed into the punished pansy’s lap.

(To be continued)

[Anonymous]

HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT. 6

“Just one more thing, missy,” said Mrs. Daniels, looking down her nose at her daughter’s pink plaything.  Now the softness in her voice was gone, replaced by a tone of menace which sent shivers down the sissy’s petite spine.  “Never forget that you are our little trinket.  You are here because I bought you.  A possession exists not for itself but for the amusement of the owner.  We want a tame, submissive, excessively girlish thing -- and nothing less! You are therefore forbidden to touch your wee-wee for fun, forbidden to have erections, and of course forbidden to make nasty spermies.  Once you understand that sex is off limits for our little pixie, you’ll be able to concentrate on making Miss Mandy the most satisfied of sissy owners.  In time, you’ll learn to think nothing of yourself and everything of that beautiful, vigorous girl you belong to.”

Mrs. Daniels then turned to her daughter and asked, “Well, what do you think of your dolly now?”

“Mommy,” whispered the cheerleader with red cheeks and dilated pupils, “you won’t believe this! I just had the most fantastic orgasm and didn’t even touch myself!”

“But that’s wonderful, darling!” trilled Mrs. Daniels, as she fondled her daughter’s left pigtail.  “I must admit I felt a tingle myself!”

Playfully wriggling her hips, Mandy purred, “Mmmmmm, I’m afraid I got a little damp down there.”

Her mother laughed.  “Then perhaps a panty change is in order for both of us.”

The pretty cheerleader grinned and nodded.  “And I better hurry.  I told Karen I’d meet her at the gym as soon as it opened Saturday, and that was like five minutes ago.  Love my present, Mommy!”  With that Mandy kissed her mother’s cheek, hopped off the bench and danced towards the door.

“Oh, darling, please do me a favor once you’re out of those dewy panties.”

“What, Mommy?”

“Don’t leave them on the floor of your closet.  Take them straight to the laundry room.  You’ll see that I’ve installed a new hamper with a padlock on it.  The combination is the same as the one on our boathouse.”

Mandy arched her beautiful tawny eyebrows.  “A locking hamper?  What’s the deal?”

Mrs. Daniels rose gracefully and began to play with the blond ringlets of tiny Muffin, still bound, helpless and exposed in its chair.  “Mandy, I’m sure you must know that all sissies are incorrigible panty-sniffers.  Day and night they think of nothing but getting their mousy little hands on the worn intimate apparel of pretty girls.  And it’s plain as day that this little wisp in ruffles and lace has already worked up a serious crush on you.  Turn your back and it will be licking your soiled briefs in no time. However, I do not intend for us to encourage such misbehavior or to spend time in search of the used undies that a lovesick sissy manages to squirrel away when we’re not looking.”

Mrs. Daniel began removing Muffin’s velcro straps and continued, “So from now on, any garment that might absorb that alluring scent between your legs must be kept out of your weak-minded plaything’s reach.  That includes panties, swimsuits, leotards, pantyhose, tights, pajama bottoms, bicycle shorts and anything else that might hold a sensory reminder of the lovely girl who just wore them.  Because, make no mistake, if we ever do catch silly Muffin with undies other than its own, I shall punish the poor creature as ruthlessly as I did this morning.”

She then picked up the little pink hairbrush that had been the instrument of so many sissy tears.  “You wouldn’t want to put temptation in its way, would you?”

“Of course not,” said Mandy with a shake of her thick blond braids.  The cheerleader walked back to Muffin’s chair and held up the sissy’s tear-streaked face.  “I totally agree.  It would be just awful if my brand new baby doll had to be made to cry and scream due to my carelessness.”

The sexy teen was smiling as she held the gaze of her frightened, frilly toy, but Mandy’s obliging words were implicitly contradicted by her wild, gleaming green eyes.

(To be continued)

[Anonymous]

HER VERY OWN SISSY, PT 7



While Mandy was away at cheerleader practice, her mother introduced little Muffin to its domestic responsibilities.  First, Mrs. Daniels led the sissy into the master bathroom where she had it wash its red and puffy face with cold water.



As the lovely woman toweled the fairy’s face dry, she said, “Sweetie, your number-one sissy duty is to make sure that each of the five bathrooms in this house is always sparkling clean.  That means the floors, baseboards, sinks, tubs and toilets must be scrubbed with ammonia and detergent at least once a week.  In the case of my own bathroom and Mandy’s bathroom, this service must be performed daily.  On top of that, whenever Mandy or I or one of our guests uses a toilet, it must immediately be cleaned and wiped, inside and out.  Any surface that I put my bare bottom on, or that Mandy puts her bare bottom on, must be absolutely pristine.  Do you understand me, princess?”



“Yessth, ma’am.”



“You are to address me as ‘mistress.’ And Mandy as ‘Miss Mandy.’”



“Yessth, Misthtwess.”



Mrs. Daniels chuckled at the little thing’s pathetic voice and continued, “Cleaning toilets is perhaps the lowliest task of any servant, but I expect you to undertake it with energy and devotion.  A sissy is a naturally meek and bashful creature, but if you do your job well, little Muffin, there will be one thing in your life that you can take pride in:  giving Miss Mandy and me shiny and spotless toilets to place our naked rear ends on.  Won’t that be something to feel good about, precious?”



Muffin managed a tiny smile and answered, “Yessth, Misthtwess.”



“Of course, there will be penalties for any failure of duty, my sweet. Shush, musn’t interrupt me. This is all for your own improvement.  If a sissy isn’t punished for doing wrong, how can the stupid thing ever learn to do right?” she said lightly touching Muffin’s pretty lips with her forefinger.  â€œSo let’s get you ready, dear.”



And with that Mrs. Daniels turned the dainty creature around, unzipped it in back, and removed the short pink dress and the stiff white petticoats underneath.  She left to hang these in her bedroom closet.  When she returned, she had a half dozen new objects with her.



The first was a lovely little white apron edged with ruffles.  She put it over the sissy’s head and tied the straps in back.  The stiff garment covered Muffin in front, from its neck to halfway down its thighs.  Of course, in back the sissy’s tiny pink panties with lace trim were on display for all to see.



Then the beautiful mistress pinned a lacy maid’s cap in Muffin’s blond hair. “Voila!  Here is princess’s little maid’s uniform.  When you’re cleaning house, you’ll wear girly shoes, pink stockings, sissy panties, your darling apron, maid’s cap -- and nothing else! Look in the mirror, sissy!  Aren’t you just thrilled with how cute our little Maid Muffin looks?” said Mrs. Daniels archly.



“Um, yessth, Misthtwess.”



“Now these are the clothes I expect you to be in while you’re scrubbing our floors, cleaning our bathtubs and polishing our toilets.  However, at five-thirty in the afternoon when I come to inspect your work, there’ll be one minor change . . . Muffin, step out of your sissy panties!” she commanded.



The poor thing nervously removed its dainty pink underwear and gave its attention back to Mrs. Daniels.



“Do you know why I want your little bottom bare when I conduct my inspection?”



“No, Misthtwess.”



“Because we teach little sissies by way of their fannies.  You see, Muffin, at the end of the afternoon, you and I will be in this bathroom together to examine the results of your labors.  And if I find any mistakes, I’ll just have to make little sissy’s bottom very sore.”



With that Mrs. Daniels picked up a yard-long rattan switch.  She gave Muffin a wink and then raised the switch above her mane of light brown curls.



“Listen to it, sissy,” she said and then brought the cane down with a quick jerk of her lovely arm.  The pencil-thin instrument whistled sharply as it cut through the air.  



“Schweeeeeeet!” it seemed to say.  The sissy’s big blue eyes grew larger and its tiny lower lip trembled.



“Such a pretty sound it makes!” raved Mrs. Daniels.  â€œIt loves to fly through the air, baby. But I must warn you:  it acts very mean if anything gets in its way . . . such as a naughty sissy’s little bare fanny.”



Muffin bit its trembling lip and began to whimper.



(To be continued)