A Girl Called Danny
Mike O’Connor
Published by Mike O’Connor at Smashwords.
Copyright 2011 Mike O’Connor
Smashwords Edition, License Notes.
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Note: All characters in this story are consenting adults, over the age of 18.
Phoebe had always treated me like her silly little sister, even though we were only second cousins. She may have been only two years older than me, but she seemed to have emerged from her mother’s womb as a fully formed sadist. She had leeched onto my weaknesses at an early age and exploited them with a frightening efficiency.
My red haired cousin was a bully, but her domination of me was psychological, rather than physical. She seemed to have an insight into me that I was still far from comprehending and that she could exploit to the full. I was a boy, but Phoebe always treated me like a stupid little girl. By the time I reached my teens, she was allowing me to secretly dress up in her clothes and encouraging me to talk about boys, fashion and all things girly, for her amusement.
Our strange relationship never progressed to any kind of physical intimacy. I might wear my cousin’s panties, but that never made me want to get into them while she was still wearing them. As for Phoebe; she would never consider degrading herself by kissing a sissy.
****
I was twenty-two when I became my cousin's live-in maid. The arrangement had been her idea. Phoebe was riding high on the success of her publishing business, while I was just drifting around, changing lovers and dead-end jobs as frequently as I changed hair colors. I needed some rules and discipline and Phoebe needed a housemaid, to accompany her exalted social status. I liked to think she had also been missing her "little sister", but that might just be me sprinkling some girly glitter over the floor of a cage.
Despite my reservations, I was glad to find myself in a world where I could at last dispense with the need for non-feminine clothing. I could spend my days in short skirts, stockings and high heels, but this was no frilly pink, flowery paradise. The subtly cruel youthful bully had become a full-blooded adult dominatrix. She would pay for my labor and I would be given time off to pursue my own interests, but I should consider my status to be that of a domestic slave. The list of house rules was long and the punishments for any infringement were clearly spelled out. Following a trial weekend, during which I was forced to perform a series of demeaning tasks, then whipped on my bare buttocks on two separate occasions, I was given one last chance to change my mind. Predictably, I chose submission.
Phoebe had warned me that she would be a Mistress from Hell and she wasn’t exaggerating. She got up at 6AM on work days, expecting to find the aroma of freshly roasted coffee wafting from the kitchen and her work clothes pressed and ready to wear. She might not return home until late in the evening, but my list of domestic chores was long and she was never too tired to thoroughly inspect, find fault and administer the appropriate punishment.
Even perfection wasn’t good enough. Phoebe sometimes handcuffed me and whipped my bare ass simply because she felt like it. On one occasion, she bought me a new dress, and then kicked me in the balls when I thanked her for her generosity.
Despite the casual sadism and the dread of her ever expanding arsenal of whips and canes, I took a kind of perverse pride in my complete devotion my Mistress. I might be a domestic slave for six days a week, but on the seventh day I was free to party. The combination of military discipline, with a dash of hedonism, was just what I needed. Or so I thought, until Danny walked into my life!
Phoebe and I had always had similar tastes in men, so I could see immediately why she would be attracted to Danny. He was in his early thirties, tall and blond with clean cut, Nordic good looks. Ten out of ten, I decided, hating my cousin for having ensnared such a perfect specimen of manhood.
"Phoebe should be home soon," I said, ushering him into the lounge. "Can I get you something to drink, while you're waiting?"
"Coffee would be nice," he replied.
As I made my way to the kitchen, I could sense his gaze lingering on my legs, which were sheathed in seamed stockings of dark silk. The short black dress that constituted my maid's uniform left plenty to appreciate on view. The thought that I was probably giving him a hard-on caused my own cock to swell in my panties.
"You must be Phoebe's maidservant," he said, when I returned with the coffee, several minutes later. “I thought she’d been watching too many British period dramas.”
"I’m Kristi," I replied, giving him my girl name and seeing no need to tell the truth.
"I'm Danny," he said.
I smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Danny. Do you take cream?"
“I like cream,” he replied.
‘I’d like your cream, darling!’ I mentally added.
In a matter of minutes, we were chatting like old friends. Danny was more than just an exceptionally good looking man. Of course I wanted him in my panties, but I also sensed a deeper empathy between us. We sipped coffee and traded mundane conversation, but I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling that he was waiting for me to reveal something more stimulating.