Willing Servitude

By: Throne

Paul, now his wife's devoted maid, helped her prepare for her date.  He
was, as always, in his sexy uniform with its frilly cap, well-fitted top,
and flaring skirt, and of course the usual stockings and heels.  As he
helped her zip up the tight red dress that clung to her full curves and
that showed off her cleavage and legs, he thought back to how his present
life had started.  Had it really been five years since he married Zara?
The memories of meeting her were so vivid.  He could recall clearly the
day he went to a friend's party and was stunned by her voluptuous beauty,
only to be further mesmerized by her slight but striking accent, and
finally to have his heart captured by her naturally dominant personality,
by how she controlled the conversation he hesitantly started, and how by
the end of the evening she was giving him orders, making him fetch her
drinks while she chatted with other men, ones who were taller, more
manly, and had much more confidence.

But then he got the biggest shock of all.  She declared that he was
taking her home and that he would be staying for a drink.  Paul fell all
over himself getting the short jacket she had arrived in, the one that
didn't hide her wide shapely bottom.  He followed her like a puppy dog as
she strode to the elevator.  Then she snapped at him that he needed
exercise and should take the stairs.  At the same time, one of his male
co-workers, a striking junior executive with an athletic build, joined
her for the ride.  Paul raced down the stairs and arrived winded.  The
elevator opened and there stood the magnificent Zara, sharing a laugh
with that man.  Paul was struck by jealousy but said nothing.  Instead he
crossed the lobby alongside her, opened the door to the sidewalk, and
hurried to hail a cab.

When they reached her place, a luxury building where she had an apartment
on the first floor, he was relieved not to have to replay the elevator
scene.  She told him coolly, "You are out of shape.  That run down the
stairs left you gasping.  I hope you can control your breathing better
than that when you have to."  She sighed, as if the effort of speaking to
him bored her.  Under her siren spell, he followed wordlessly into her
home.  She ordered him to remove her jacket, which he did happily,
inhaling the natural scent of her long red-blond hair along with the
subtle perfume she wore.  When he draped the garment over the back of a
wooden chair she gave a curt approving nod.  "You know how to serve.  I
like that.  There may be hope for you yet."

She mixed the drinks and handed him a tall slender glass.  It had a paper
flower in it and hers didn't.  That seemed unmanly but he wasn't about to
upset the fragile progress he felt he was making.  Just being in the same
room with her was a thrill.  And being the only one in her company was
indescribable.  She sat herself on a short couch.  He looked around,
uncertain of what to do, until she told him, "You may stay there."  He
risked taking a tiny drink from his glass.  Zara didn't object.  Two more
tastes and he could feel the alcohol going to his brain.  Paul didn't
care.  He was already drunk on Zara.  After he stood there for several
more minutes she patted a spot directly beside her.  He sat gingerly,
being careful not to let his hip touch the generous swell of hers.  She
fixed her eyes on his and said, "Your slacks are rather tight and your
shirt is colorful.  You like to dress... prettily, don't you?"  Paul's
smooth cheeks turned rosy pink.  It was as if she had read his mind.  He
didn't have the will to deny it, or even to stall for time to think.
Instead he admitted, "I have always enjoyed dressing... that way.  Since
I was young."  She nodded and said, "I know the type.  And I spoke to
that girl Janey, who you had one date with.  Hmm?"  "I did go out with
her," he agreed forlornly.  "But it didn't work too well."  Zara smirked
and said, "She told me.  Your penis."  Her hand came up, thumb and
forefinger about two inches apart.  "It is too small."  He turned his
gaze downward in shame.  "Yes.  That's true."  She chuckled.  "That's
good."  "It is?"  "Very good."

They finished their drinks in silence, Zara appearing content and Paul
trying not to squirm with unease.  She finally got up and said, "Be a
good boy and help me undress."  She turned her back to him.  He rose
shakily and unfastened the tiny clasp at the nape of her neck, then
lowered the zipper.  She slid out of the garment in one long sinuous
movement.  Zara stood there, a goddess to be worshipped, in just sexy
lingerie and heels.  She commanded him, "Strip.  All the way."  In a daze
he did as he was told.  She turned back to him, eyed his crotch, his
immature genitals, graced with only a wisp of sandy pubic hair, and
grinned.  "Oh yes," she said with satisfaction, "you will be perfect."
He found himself following her once more, though the circumstances had
changed drastically.  In her very feminine bedroom she opened the top
drawer of the dresser and took out a pair of filmy panties.  They were
much too small for her wide hips.  She held them out to Paul.  He
accepted them wordlessly.  She knew his secret desire, maybe more
thoroughly than he did.

He stepped into their silkiness and felt their seductive touch as they
slid up his smooth legs.  They captured his undersized parts and
compressed them, hiding them behind an opaque crotch band, and he almost
whimpered with the relief of finally being able to wear something so
desirable in front of a woman.  He would never have dared to don them in
the presence of, for instance, Janey.  True, that date had ended in her
laughter when she got her first look at his equipment, but at least he
had kept his private need confidential.  He sighed happily.  Zara ordered
him onto his knees to remove her own panties.  He couldn't help being
jealous of their quality and cut.  She took them from him and rubbed them
tenderly against his cheek.  She revealed, "I do have feelings for you,
Paul, but everything between us must be on my terms.  Do you accept?"
Utterly under her spell he answered, "Absolutely, Zara.  For as long as
you say."  She grinned at him and said, "Be careful what you accept.
That could be a very long time."  He swiveled his head far enough to kiss
the bit of material she held, as fervently as if his lips were on hers.

Zara went to the bed, laid back comfortably, and parted her long legs.
"Your dick is so tiny, Paul, you will have to satisfy me another way.
Won't you?"  "I will," he said, eager but with just an undercurrent of
trepidation.  The next time he said, "I will," it was three months later
and they were concluding their wedding vows.  She had kept him in panties
that entire time and under his tux he also had on garters, stockings, and
an A-cup bra that didn't show at all.  Their whirlwind courtship and
marriage surprised a lot of people.  When they were together, the
unimpressive Paul next to his magnificent wife, onlookers wondered what
the attraction was.  Paul knew.  She wanted a husband who she could rule
without a hint of male ego opposing her.  And he lived for a wife who
would put him into the feminine outfits he craved, who had taught him to
apply his make-up expertly, and who managed their sex life so that she
enjoyed endless satisfaction and he was starved for conventional
pleasure.  But for Paul, being in her thrall, being her slave, serving
her as if he was a male lesbian, was the ultimate intoxication.  He
didn't want anything else.  He turned his pay over to her every week like
a dutiful, meek wife.

But now, as he helped her dress for that date, feeling so comfortable in
one of his many cherished maid's uniforms, he thought further.  She
fussed with her hair.  He touched his own luxurious dark wig in reaction.
Her dating had started several months after they became man and wife.
She had been attracted to an executive from another company, who she was
dealing with.  Zara made sure he noticed her, wearing sexy but not slutty
outfits.  Each evening she came home and told Paul how hunky Greg
Ballentine was.  After concluding all of their business, Greg asked her
out for dinner.  That was the first time Paul had to help her prepare.
He washed her in the shower, which made his tiny penis stand up and
twitch.  Then he had to dry and powder her magnificent body.  At last she
made him select her lingerie.  He didn't want her to seduce the handsome
and very masculine Greg, but he also wanted her to be happy.  And, as she
had been teaching him all along, he had to do everything on her terms.
Zara made Paul feel fulfilled and he wanted to reciprocate even more than
he did already.  He knew he could never satisfy her in bed, not the way a
real man could.  So he selected fiery red panties and bra, both cut to
show off her stupendous dimensions.  She approved and, after she had done
her make-up and started dressing, she gave him a tender kiss on the
cheek.  "Thank you, Paul.  That was a bit of test, I have to confess."

"D... did I do okay?" he asked hopefully.   "You passed perfectly.  But
there's one more thing.  I don't want to feel like I'm cheating on Paul.
So we have to take you one step further down the path you're on.  From
this moment, whenever you are dressed, I will call you Paulette."  He was
filled with a thrilling sensation.  Paul sank to his knees in gratitude
and told her, his voice choked with emotion, "Thank you, Zara.  I've been
hoping you would give me a new name, one more suited to who I am now, but
I didn't want to be pushy about it."  She patted the top of his head and
told him, "Good girl.  You are learning all the time.  Now fetch my
shoes, the red heels that you're always admiring."  He hurried to comply,
bringing them back and setting them in front of her, so she could slip
her feet in.  Zara looked perfect.  She cupped his smooth chin in her
plump hand and gave him an air kiss.  "While I'm out," she told him,
"there are several chores for you to perform.  The list is posted on the
refrigerator with that magnet I got you, the one with the French maid on
it."  He said he would make sure everything got done and then asked,
"When you get home with you be... needing me?"  She smiled slyly and
said, "I'm sure I'll have something for you to do."

While she was gone he bustled about, cleaning but also stopping to admire
himself in a full length mirror, to consider how lucky he was, and to
appreciate this particular outfit.  The top had puffy shoulders and a
satiny bodice, in black.  Below a wide leather belt with an oversized
gold buckle, a short red skirt flared.  It drew attention downward,
toward his fishnet stockings and the black shoes with red trim, their
three inch block heels adding to his appearance of being a maid but also,
like those stockings, to his image of being a naughtily sex female.  Zara
and he had chosen the outfit together, chatting like two BFFs about which
items to combine for the best effect.  The belt was non-traditional and
there was no apron, but it worked.  He adjusted the cap, at the same
appreciating the reflected image of his fingernails, which were painted
candy apple red.  For long moments he simply stared at himself, but then
remembered that his wife would be displeased if he didn't finish his
assigned tasks.  So off he went once more to dust and polish and wipe and
wash.  The final item on his list was to rearrange her shoes in the walk-
in closet.  She had given him brief instructions about that earlier, but
left them vague so he could place all the footwear how he wanted to see
it.  Zara could be cleverly generous like that.

Hours later everything else was done and he was happily buffing and
lining up her shoes... and boots.  The feminized man thrilled at handling
those latter fashions, which for him symbolized his bride's dominance, as
well as adding inches to her already superior height.  He sighed as he
finally got everything perfectly displayed.  Then he glanced back at the
clock on her dresser and realized she was due home soon.  Not that Zara
felt obligated to stay on any predetermined schedule.  And of course he
had absolutely no say in what she did, not unless she asked for his input
on a new shade of lipstick or eye shadow.  Sometimes she would bring home
something new from the cosmetics department and they would banter about
which of them it would look better on.  He loved it when they acted like
chummy girlfriends.  But now it was almost time for her to breeze through
the door after her night out.  Would she be tired?  Energetic?
Demanding?  He didn't care.  All he wanted was to make her happy.  Paul
made sure his outfit was perfect, fussing over each detail, than checked
himself in the vanity mirror, straightened his wig, and touched up his
make-up.

Almost as soon as he had positioned himself inside the front door, a car
pulled up to their curb.  He edged the curtain back slightly and peered
out.  Greg Ballentine's car was new and top of the line.  He obviously
earned much more than Paul.  But then, so did Zara.  She gave her date a
lingering kiss and then he got out and opened her door.  As they came up
the front walk Paul let the curtain fall back into place.  There was a
slight delay, probably for another kiss or two.  Was that capable man
running his hands over her curves, stealing an extra few feels?  Paul
shuddered with envy but also with a secret thrill.  It was exciting to
have his sexy wife appreciated that way.  Then she came in and saw him
standing there sheepishly.

Zara smiled and said, "Good, Paulette.  I am glad to see you ready to
serve."  She gave him a serious look and asked, "Are all your chores
done?"  He nodded and answered in a small voice, "Yes, Ma'am."  "Even the
shoes?"  "Oh yes," he enthused, adding, "Especially the shoes... and
boots."  She grinned and said, "Maybe we'll go shopping for some booties
for you.  Low ones, with short heels."  He sighed happily and thanked
her.  She went on, "But for right now, let's head to the bedroom.  That
man exhausted me.  He's incredible in bed.  Talk about staying power.
And size."  She chuckled.  "Not like you, Paulette."  The maid/husband
blushed prettily and followed her through the house.  In the bedroom he
helped her undress.  When she was naked she stretched out on top of the
covers, on her back, and parted her legs, telling Paul, "I really got off
on the the orgasms Greg gave me.  They were deep and hard.  But now my
pussy needs some tender loving care.  You know what I want, girl."

Paul eagerly got his face between her full thighs and gave her pussy a
gentle kiss.  She purred contentedly as he began to lick.  While he
teased her clitoris with the tip of his tongue he couldn't stop thinking
about how Greg's large cock had been inside her so recently.  She
murmured something about what a huge load he had left in the condom he
used.  Paul continued to give her pleasure, heard her breathing quicken,
and knew she was mounting toward a climax.  Soon she finished, not
loudly, barely moving her hips, but pleased nevertheless.  Then she told
him to get naked and slip on one of his baby doll nighties.  He did that
and she had him give his crotch a short spray of perfume.  It was a scent
she had selected for him, very feminine and unsubtle.  Then she had him
lie alongside her.  Zara toyed with his nipples through the soft material
of his sleepwear.  He moaned and squirmed under her expert touch.  The
playful woman brought her husband to peak after peak of arousal without
even touching his tiny dick.

At last she rolled onto her side, facing away from him.  Zara said,
"Would you like to give my bottom a goodnight kiss?"  "Oh, yes," he
replied breathily.  Paul slid down until his face was in front of her
broad, well padded sitter.  He lavished kisses on both cheeks and
finished with one deep in the central valley.  She wriggled her backside
against his features.  Then she told him to stay down there until she had
been asleep for a while.  It wasn't until an hour later he felt confident
that she had been sleeping long enough and dared to move back up.  Then
he pressed his soft cheek to the warm skin of her back, relishing the
touch of her flesh against his.  He was so content.  Zara loved him as
much as he loved and worshiped her.  Plus, she was going to buy him his
first pair of girly boots.  He was so very happy.  What could be  better
than the life they had?