FORCED TO BE A SISSY MAID
by
Jo Santana
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
Miro Books
Forced to be a Sissy Maid
Copyright © 2010 by Jo Santana
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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FORCED TO BE A SISSY MAID
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FORCED TO BE A SISSY MAID
I think the Christmas party was the beginning of my downfall. I worked for one of the major investment banks in the city of London. It really wouldn’t be a good idea to say which one, even now they might frown on some of the things that happened there. Besides, some of the people that I was involved with are still working there now and the last thing I need is a lawsuit to add to my difficulties.
The party was in full swing, I was there with my wife Rachel. She had persuaded me to wear girly clothes, in fact I was dressed as a French maid and to complete the cross dressing theme she was dressed as Charlie Chaplin. I have to say she looked a really cute in her baggy trousers, long black jacket and bowler hat with a false moustache glued to her upper lip. She completed her outfit with a walking stick and had even practiced the silly Chaplin walk just for the party. My outfit was a classic Satin French maid’s short dress complete with stiff frilly petticoats that made the skirt stand out in a traditional manner. The dress was quite tight fitting and had no give in it at all, so moving my arms was difficult.
She had persuaded me to wear her traditional satin corset, into which I had been ruthlessly laced so that my waist was a good four inches less than normal. Breathing, I can assure you, was extremely difficult and sitting down quite a complicated performance. I found it best to just perched on the edge of a chair when I needed to sit. Attached to the suspenders of my corset were the regulation fishnet stockings and Rachel had managed to get hold of a pair of high-heeled shoes. I think they were about a four inch heel, into which I had squeezed my feet. The French maid’s outfit was hers because we were in fact a similar size but her shoes were the only part of her wardrobe that wouldn’t fit me. My feet were a good two sizes larger than hers. Unsurprisingly, because of course she is a girl and I am a bloke.
My sexy outfit was complemented by a pair of black silky opera gloves that reached past my elbows, a cute French maid’s cap that was pinned to my hair and disguised the fact that I had a masculine haircut, and a satin choker around my neck. Before we had left the house to go to the party she had decided that my outfit was not complete without makeup, and so I was sat down uncomfortably for twenty minutes while she bustled around making up my face with a variety of lipsticks and cosmetics and applying false eyelashes. When she pronounced herself ready, she led me over to the full-length mirror in our hall for me to look at the result. I have to admit that I was totally shocked. Normally I am a pretty conventional looking guy, perhaps not as tall as some and somewhat on the thin side, but definitely 100% male. Yet in the mirror I could see a sexy looking French maid looking back at me with an astonished look on her cherry red lips.
“Rachel, that’s fantastic, I would never have believed it possible.”
“Yes, you do look absolutely gorgeous, Andrew. I think if I was a guy I would really fancy you.” She smiled. “In fact I am dressed as a guy and I definitely do fancy you. Maybe we can do something about it later on?”
She was definitely beginning to get horny and I was just as tempted.
“Look, Rachel, we’ve got a bit of time to spare, why don’t we go upstairs and do something about it?”
She thought for a moment. “No, Andrew, I fancy it too but there isn’t a great deal of time. Besides, you don’t want to ruin your makeup to you?”
I felt a bit crushed. I had begun to get visions of great sex with each of us dressed in clothes of the opposite gender. Besides, I really didn’t give much of a damn about the makeup. Still, we were running out of time if we were going to get to the party so I reluctantly agreed to postpone sex until later.
“Come on Andrew, we need to get going. You can borrow my raincoat, you’d look a bit silly wearing your own in that outfit.”
“But Rachel, I intended to wear my long coat to hide the outfit, it is a bit embarrassing to go out in public dressed like this.”
“Don’t be silly, how is a long coat going to hide your fishnets and high heels, apart from your made up face and cute little maid’s hat?”
I had to agree, it would have looked totally ridiculous. She handed me her black Burberry trench coat and helped me do up the buttons, which were of course the opposite way to which I was accustomed. She fastened the belt for me and pulled up the collar so that it gave me a rather trendy appearance.
“You’ll need a handbag, Andrew, you’ll find that girly clothes don’t have all of the pockets that you’re used to, you need something to carry your wallet, keys and things. Here, take this.”
She handed me a patent leather handbag. It was a pretty bag with a glittery silver butterfly motif and a silver chain shoulder strap. There wasn’t much room but I tried to fit my wallet, keys and phone in.
“We are in a hurry up so let’s get going.”
She left me still floundering, trying to fit my male accessories into the unaccustomed handbag while she pulled on my coat, and open the front door.
“Come on Andrew, let’s get going. I’m the man, so I’ll drive, let me open the car door for you.”
She smiled broadly as she opened the passenger door for me to get into the car. I managed to totter out of the house in my four inch heels, clutching my handbag and got into the car. She closed the door, went round to the other side and got in.
“Don’t forget to fasten your seatbelt, dear. Are you comfortable there?”
I had never been more uncomfortable in my life, quite apart from the humiliation I felt that sitting in my own car wearing such incredibly feminine clothes. When Rachel first suggested the idea to make it had seemed like a good idea, but now, in the cold hard light of day wearing these ridiculous and uncomfortable garments, it did not seem so clever. I just gave her a snarling look by way of reply.
I have to admit that at the party outfits were a resounding success. Rachel made a damn good Charlie Chaplin and even if I say it myself, I was the very image of a sexy French maid, even catching the eye of two or three of my male colleagues before they were told that underneath the satin and lace was their workmate Andrew Moss. Rachel came over to me, with my line manager David Paterson in tow.
“Is everything okay, darling?” She asked. “It’s a great party, and several people said how fabulous you looked in the outfit. In fact I noticed a couple of the guys giving you the eye, and Laura from the IT Department told me she was going to ask that waitress to get her a drink. She meant you, isn’t that funny?”
“Oh yes, totally hilarious,” I replied. To be honest, I felt like a fish out of water. Somehow I couldn’t connect with the people I knew dressed like this and felt so embarrassed really to chat with anyone.
“Well, Andrew, I think you look totally gorgeous,” said David. “You going to dance with any of the guys if they ask you?” He smiled.
I looked him in the eye. “Fuck off, David” I said. To be honest, line manager or not, the guy had been getting on my nerves lately. I don’t know why, but somehow everything he said or did just rubs me up the wrong way.
“Oh dear,” he said. “I hope I haven’t upset our darling little French maid.”
I just glared at him, I really felt like punching his nose out of the back of his stupid, supercilious head. The problem was that dressed as a French maid in frilly clothes with high-heeled shoes it was virtually impossible to do anything very physical. Even though it was a party, I could have probably been sacked for the assault.
Rachel saved the day by dragging me away from the confrontation across to where some of our mutual acquaintances were chatting. She introduced me by saying “I don’t suppose you recognise this gorgeous young lady?” In fact a couple of heads shook and it was amusing to see their jaws drop when she told them who I was.
“My God, Andrew, you are absolutely fabulous. You are better looking as a girl than you ever were as the ugly bloke you are.” one of them laughed.
“Piss off, Colin,” I replied, but I was smiling and beginning to enjoy being with some of the nicer people who worked in my department. Colin Hall worked with me and we generally had a very friendly relationship, we frequently went for a lunchtime drink together and enjoy each other’s company.
“No, Andrew, I really mean it. You really do make a good-looking girl.”
It was strange but his comment was in some odd way slightly thrilling to hear. In fact, I was beginning to get used to the relentless pressure of the corset, which now felt almost comfortable, and could walk quite easily in my high-heeled shoes. Yes, it really was a thrill to be dressed and made up as a sexy girl. I wondered why I felt that way. Never mind, it was just for a night and life could get back to normal. I turned to speak to Rachel but once again she had disappeared and I couldn’t see her anywhere in the room. It was only later that I realised David Paterson was nowhere to be seen either.
I spent the next hour chatting with various people I knew, getting much more at ease and familiar with my costume. Twice I caught my reflection in a mirror and was startled to see how much I really resembled a female. Despite my embarrassment and humiliation I was beginning to enjoy dressing up. I relaxed and just enjoyed the party. Then everything changed. I was suddenly grabbed by the guy who worked in the next office, Alex Kellerman.
“Come on gorgeous, let’s have a dance.”
I did my best to resist him, didn’t he realise that “gorgeous” was in fact a bloke just as much as he was?
“No, no, for Christ’s sake leave me alone. It’s not what you think”
Alex was a big, beefy bloke and clearly had been drinking heavily. He totally ignored my protestations and I found myself dancing with him in the middle of the floor to a smoochy song that had started to play. I realised that if I tried to get away from him it could cause more trouble than it was worth, so I just swallowed the disgust I felt at dancing with a man and waited for it to end. Then the song did end and my world collapsed around me. Alex held me even more tightly and planted a huge kiss on my cherry red lips. I was stunned, I couldn’t breathe, it seemed to go on forever. Then he finally pulled away and over his shoulder I saw Rachel staring at me, with David Paterson standing next to her. Her face had a look of astonishment.
“Andrew,” she yelled, “what the hell are you doing?”
“Rachel,” I mumbled “it wasn’t my fault. He just grabbed me and I couldn’t get away.”
David Paterson’s sneering face it came into view. “Well, Andrew. It looked to me as if you were really enjoying it. I don’t think any of us knew you swung that way, although I have to admit the dress was something of a giveaway.”
That was it, I couldn’t stand it any more and I felt angry and jealous that he was spending time with Rachel, when I really thought she should have been enjoying the party with her husband. Despite the high heels, the corset and the frilly dress I just swung at him and caught him full in the face. My fist hit him with a loud whack and he flew over onto his back, his nose beginning to bleed profusely. There was a stunned silence, everyone stopped talking and looked at the incongruous sight of a frilly French maid standing over the man she had just floored. Paterson looked at me, his expression was one of fury made even more dramatic by the blood pouring out of his nose and down the front of his shirt.
“That’s it, Moss. You’re fired! You can get your arse out of this building now or I’ll call security. And don’t come back, you no longer have a job here.”
Although I had a deep sense of satisfaction that I had floored the nasty bastard, I had a sinking feeling that I had created a huge problem for myself and Rachel. I heard her pleading with David to not fire me.
“David, for God’s sake, you did wind him up a bit. Don’t you think you did have it coming, at least to some extent? Surely you can find some way to just forgive and forget, after all this is supposed to be a party. I think we’ve all had a little bit too much to drink and in the morning will all regret some of the things that happened here tonight.”
Heads were nodding in the room, clearly most people felt the same way.
“Rachel, for you, I’ll think about it over the weekend. I’ll let you know on Monday what my decision is, but in the meantime you can tell the French maid to stay away from this office until I have made a decision.”
His comment was so sneering I felt like taking another swing at him, but I knew it would really be the last straw if I did.
“Thanks, David,” she said. “I really appreciate that, we were having such a lovely time tonight, I wouldn’t want it to end. Would you?” She said to him meaningfully. He looked at her sharply, then nodded his head. “No, I suppose not, but I’m not making a final decision now, I’ll let you know on Monday. Now I have to go and get cleaned up. I suggest you take your maid home.” he snarled.
He got up off of the floor and left the room, heading for the staff restroom.
“Andrew, I think we’d better go before there is any more trouble, I’ll get your coat and handbag and we can go and find the car.”
She left to retrieve their things while I was left still standing in the middle of a circle of shocked and openmouthed colleagues.
“Well, I’m sorry I seem to have made a bit of a mess of the party,” I said. “Maybe next time I’ll come dressed as Elvis Presley or something a little bit less female.” I tried to make a joke of it, and was rewarded with a few smiles. As I was following Rachel out to the cloakroom Alex Kellerman came up to me with a sheepish look on his face.
“Andrew, I really am sorry I got you into trouble. You just look so tempting as a French maid I just didn’t realise that you were a bloke. I really do apologise.”
“That’s okay,” I said “just forget it. I think that Paterson had it coming to him anyway.”
“That’s true, yes he did. But Andrew, just one thing.” He paused and looked at me in a very peculiar way “Despite everything, I really meant it. Dressed like that you really do look gorgeous. If things were different...”
“Alex, I don’t know where you’re going with this, just shut up and leave me alone, we’re going home.”
Rachel helped me into her Burberry raincoat, fastening the buttons and belt and turning up the collar in that saucy way. She adjusted my maid’s cap, and smiled. I just gave her a hard look.
“Well,” she said, “you just look so cute like that, it’s a shame to ruin the effect. Do you want me to help you touch up your lipstick before we go?”
“Dammit Rachel,” I said, “now you’re making me really angry. This is your idea, it’s made me feel totally ridiculous and humiliated and my job is on the line. Just let it go.”
All she did was smile. “Have it your way, Andrew. Now let’s get to the car before you do any more damage.”
“Me?” I was almost lost for words. “It wasn’t me that caused the trouble...”
“No? She said. “I suppose it was someone else who punched David to the ground was it? I think you’ve got a lot of ground to make up and a lot of apologising to do. Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy dressing up in that French maid’s outfit, I could see you admiring yourself in the mirror. Maybe it was my idea but you didn’t say no, did you? I only hope that David can be sufficiently forgiving to let you keep your job, God knows he is entitled to feel angry.”
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t see why she seemed to be taking his side, so I just concentrated on walking in the ridiculous high heeled shoes and getting back to the car. Once again, she opened the passenger door for me and made sure that my seatbelt was fastened, treating me like a girl. Was she deliberately trying to humiliate me?
The weekend when very slowly. Rachel virtually refused to talk to me and gave me the silent treatment. I had no idea why, I had gone along with everything she wanted, dressed up as a French maid to go to the party which was entirely her idea and had only acted in a perfectly ordinary way when Dave became so obnoxious, especially when he tried to show me up standing next to my wife while I was wearing my frilly outfit. So I chose not to talk to her either and we spent two days in virtual silence. On Monday she went to work and I prepared to receive the verdict that David Paterson was about to hand down on the future of my job. Quite frankly, the financial industry was in a very precarious state. No one was hiring, every financial institution was laying off people as fast as possible. If I lost my job I knew that I had almost no place to go, and it rankled that I was almost totally in the power of a person that I detested so utterly. It made it even worse when Rachel refused to hear anything bad about Paterson, so that I felt totally let down by her and on my own. At lunchtime, the phone rang.
“Andrew?” I heard her asking “I’ve been talking to David about things, obviously the question of you continuing in employment at the bank.”
“Yes,” I asked, “so what is the verdict?”
“He’s very angry, Andrew. I’m really not sure if he’ll agree to keeping you on. I’m sure he will want to implement some kind of disciplinary measure for you assaulting him. If he does, I want you to just agree to it, don’t make matters worse by just getting angry and arguing with him. What ever he insists on, I want you to just do it. Ok?”
At least I was in with a chance, my spirits rose. “Rachel, of course I will. I think it’s all over the top, we just had a few drinks too many and he was pretty rude...”
“Andrew, for God’s sake no further the arguments and recriminations. If David lets you keep your job and doesn’t press the matter of the assault just agree with him and go along with whatever is said. No arguments, no recriminations!”
“Ok,” I replied “I’ll go along with whatever is said.”
“Anything?” asked Rachel “do you honestly mean that? Whatever he decides you will agree to and keep your job?”
“I promise”. I was so relieved to be in with a chance that I truly was prepared do anything, even if it meant half pay for a month or two or possibly a transfer to a different department.
“I have asked David to come for dinner this evening,” Rachel continued. “I want you to remember your promise and be on your best behaviour.”
“To dinner!” I spluttered. “You must be joking, you bring that bastard here and I’ll bend his nose in the opposite direction.”
“So is that what your promise means?” She asked. “You promise that you will do anything. I ask you to do one thing, to be polite to the guy that could sack you if he so chooses, and already you’re making threats. Is that how empty your promises are?”
Maybe she had a point, if I lost my job now we would be in deep trouble with our mortgage, which was insanely high, and far more than Rachel could pay if hers was the sole income that any length of time. I really didn’t have a choice.
“No, you’re right. If he comes here this evening to dinner I will be polite to him.”
The phone was quiet for a moment. Then I heard Rachel’s voice again.
“That’s fine then. Can you get something nice and cook it ready, get the table laid and a nice bottle of wine out of the fridge. I’ll be working a little late tonight so I’ll come back with David ready for dinner at about eight o’clock. Ok?”
I was absolutely livid, if Paterson came here for dinner I felt like shoving it right up his arse. But that of course would not help me keep my job. I forced myself to be calm.
“Yes Rachel, that’s okay, I’ll have it all ready for eight o’clock.”
“That’s lovely Andrew, thanks very much, I’m sure everything will work out fine. See about eight. Bye.”
I heard a click as she put the phone down, then I put the phone down and thought about getting a meal ready for tonight. I briefly considered poisoned ground glass in David Paterson’s meal, then discounted it. I needed to keep my job, not earn a prison sentence for murder. So I had a look around the cupboards, got some steaks out of the freezer and began the preparations.
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It was a funny thing but in some way it took my mind off of the deeper problems to be rustling around the house and preparing a meal, albeit for somebody that I loathed and detested and had recently punched on the nose. By the time I heard the key in the door and Rachel walked in followed by David Paterson the table was laid, the meal was ready to serve and I had even opened a bottle of chilled wine which waited on the table. I greeted Rachel and gave her a kiss.
“Hi darling, had had a good day?”
“Yes, thanks,” she said “it was fine.” She looked around the room, clearly impressed by all of my preparations. “Gosh, you’ve done a lovely job here, I’m sure will have a nice evening.”
I doubted that, nodding a hello to the detestable figure of David Paterson.
“Hi David,” I said in a flat cold tone.
“Hello, Andrew” he said. “nice to see you again.”
“And you,” I replied, my tone leaving him in no doubt that it was anything but nice to see him. The only cause for satisfaction was seeing the bruise on his nose where I had punched him. I managed not to smile at that, that it did take some considerable effort.
“Darling,” Rachel said to me “I’ve got some news. David put in a recommendation for me and I managed to get promoted to section manager, effective immediately. Isn’t that wonderful?”
It was good news, and I congratulated my wife, totally ignoring David.
“That’s excellent darling, we could certainly do with some more money coming into the house. And what about the other matter?”
I turned to look at David. “Well, David, what’s going to happen? Are you sacking me or not?”
He smiled. “I decided for the time being to keep you on open suspension while I consider whether to take any action or not.”
“And how long will that take before you make your decision?”
“That depends on you, Andrew. You humiliated me at the party, if you really wish to make amends I want a quid pro quo. Otherwise you can find yourself somewhere else to work.”
“A quid pro quo? What the hell does that mean?”
He looked at Rachel. “I think it might be better if you explain it to him, Rachel.”
She nodded. “Fair enough, David. Andrew, could you go upstairs with me and I’ll explain to you what David has said to me.”
I was boiling with anger at what seemed to be some kind of collusion between my wife and the odious David Paterson, but truthfully I was in enough trouble and it was and I went quietly upstairs with her to hear what she had to say. We went into the bedroom so that we were out of earshot from David.
“The thing is, Andrew, you really did hurt and humiliate David at the party. It may sound silly but what he is looking for from you is a kind of forfeit.”
“A forfeit? What the hell do you mean, I’ve got a decent meal for the bastard in my own home, isn’t that forfeit the enough?”
Well, yes and no,” she said. “The thing is if he is going to be persuaded to look favourably on the question of whether or not you’re sacked, he is insisting that you suffer a similar humiliation as he did by putting the French maids outfit back on for dinner tonight. I really and honestly don’t think that’s much to ask.”
I was totally staggered. A fancy dress party was one thing, but dressing up in a girlie costume just because an arrogant son of a bitch insisted on it was totally out of order. “Absolutely not, Rachel, no way! If that’s what he wants he can go and stuff himself.”
“Oh, Andrew, I knew you’d take it all wrong. Look we are in serious financial trouble if you lose your job, would you just do it to me just this once to keep him happy. I know it’s ridiculous and the silly thing to ask, but you did dress up in it for the party so it’s nothing that you haven’t done before. Please, you said that you honestly would go along with whatever was said. Does this mean that you’re not going to keep your promise?”
I thought for a moment. I was in deep shit, whichever way I jumped I was going to be in a bad situation. If I didn’t dress up I would probably lose my job and upset Rachel, if I did dress up it was going to be one humiliating evening.
“Andrew, please, just this once.” she begged.
I didn’t seem to have anywhere to run. “Ok, I’ll do it,” I said.
Half an hour later I was tripping carefully down the stairs in my high-heeled shoes. Then I entered the lounge in a rustle of petticoats and satin. Once again Rachel had made up my face and applied the crimson lipstick. I was incredibly uncomfortable, she seemed to have fastened my corset even tighter than last Friday, every breath was an effort to make. I was burning with shame and humiliation, but did my utmost not to show it to either of them.