23 March 2018

My father, the maid

By: Sissy Oona

I thought it was really weird when I received the random text from my step
mother, even though I had known her for most of my adult life as my
father's new wife we had never really been close. Hell, for that matter I
had never really been close to my father either, he was always pulling long
hours at the office when I was young, so he was never around. Nowadays I
rarely if ever saw him, once a year for Christmas at most, and maybe a text
on my birthday. All that being considered it was really weird when Claire,
my step mother, texted me inviting me over. As bizarre as it seemed I had
nothing better going on, so I decided to make the hour and a half trip to
see them.

On the drive to their house I thought about my dad a lot, about growing up
with him, how he treated me, how he treated my mom, how when he was in a
good mood he could be a great guy and a wonderful father, and how much more
often when he was in a bad mood he was a complete and utter asshole. My
father was an ambitious man even though he came from a difficult
background. When he was in high school his parents pressured him to drop
out to help his father with his carpentry business, but he refused to give
up on his education. Instead he found time for both, school during the day,
carpentry at night. He eventually graduated high school and started taking
classes at the local community college. That was when his mother took ill,
the medical bills became too much and he couldn't continue on to a
university. He started working full time with his father, soon he started
growing the business from a small father son operation to a moderate sized
construction company. At about that time he married my mother, they had
both met in college and thought they were madly in love with each other, I
was conceived on their wedding night. As I was growing up the company
continued to grow, slowly my father was able to go from doing actual
construction to being more of a manager and boss, work that he was
admittedly not great at. The work was hard on him and he would often come
home in a bad mood, he yelled at my mother a lot, he ignored me just as
much. Things got worse before they got better, he came home drunk often, he
beat my mother on several occasions, he even hit me a few times. I am
thankful that my mother was able to leave him and get both of us out of
there. I was 8 when they separated, I'm 24 now. It has taken a long time,
but I have forgiven him, he has apologized for his actions, and I'm not one
to hold a grudge.

Then there's his new wife, Claire, they married 5 years after my parents
divorced. I never had any reason to dislike her, she always tried her
hardest to be a good host to me whenever I came over to visit my father.
She was an attractive woman, a few years younger than my father. They met
while my father's company was building a large office complex for Claire's
husband at the time, an older man who was moderately rich. They started
having an affair behind the old man's back until he died suddenly later
that year of cancer. Upon the man's death she was expecting to get all of
his money, however he had made up a will when he was diagnosed leaving
everything to their daughter Aimee. As far as I could tell my father was
happy with Claire and a better father to Aimee than he had ever been to me.

Soon enough I pulled into the driveway. I was somewhat confused because my
father's car was there, it was Friday at 2:30, he was usually never home
before 6pm. I thought little else of it and figured maybe he had bought a
new car or something. I walked up the path to the door and rang the bell,
it took longer than I thought it would for someone to come to the door, but
I thought nothing else of it. As the door opened standing before me was my
stepmother Claire, she was beautiful, about 5'8", slim, with large round
breasts held in place by a white lace bra which was clearly visible through
her thin white button down blouse. Her gorgeous long legs were encased in
somewhat transparent black stockings, which you could see the  lace tops of
peeking out of the bottom of her tight black pencil skirt which ended just
above her knees. Her face was perfectly made up, not that she needed it,
and she had a full head of long black hair that was fixed into a long
ponytail. If someone were to tell you she was a model in her youth I doubt
anyone would have any reason to not believe that statement. She very kindly
invited me in saying we could sit in the kitchen for a late lunch if I was
hungry, having not eaten anything since that morning I gladly obliged.

As we sat in the kitchen I asked if my father had bought a new car, seeing
as he usually isn't home at this hour, Claire replied, "No, he's here, he's
just a bit busy at the moment, he'll be along shortly. That reminds me, I
am sorry it took so long to answer the door, your father was supposed to
answer it, but he was unwilling to separate himself from what he was
doing."

"Oh, is he working from home now?" I asked.

"In a manner of speaking I suppose you could say that," she said with a bit
of a smirk. "You will see soon enough."

"Okay," I said, obviously confused. After a pause I finally remember to
ask, "So what was that text all about, I know I'm not around often, but it
seemed kinda out of the blue."

"You will see soon enough, let's just say it has to do with the 'work from
home' your father has been doing."

There was a moment of silence while I tried to figure out what she could
mean by that, but the quiet was broken when she suddenly said, "you wanted
lunch didn't you? To be honest I could use a bite myself. Shall I have the
maid serve us?"

"Sure, I could definitely use some something to eat." As I said this she
rang a little bell she had. "Wow, I didn't know you guys had a maid, dad's
business must be doing we--" My sentence was instantly stopped as the
kitchen door opened and my father entered.

There he stood eyes cast to the floor. I almost didn't recognize him and
honestly probably wouldn't have if he wasn't my own father. He was wearing
a stereotypical french maid dress that was shorter than any dress I had
ever seen a woman wear, the hem resting high on his thighs. His hairless
legs were covered by black fishnet stockings, on the top of which you could
see shiny silver clips hiding under his skirt. On his feet were a pair of
high heels, I'd say 5 or 6 inches at least, which had little padlocks
holding them on around the ankles. Sitting atop his head was a crop of long
blonde hair, which I could only assume was a wig as my father had always
had short black hair. His face had makeup applied to it making him look all
the more feminine, it wasn't extreme like a drag queen or something like
that, you can tell whoever did him up like this wanted him to look like a
woman and not some exaggeration, which was not suggested by his clothing.
And the final symbol of his new found femininity were two large round
breasts pushing forth the frills on the front of his dress.

I stared in awe and confusion as my father, dressed as a maid walked into
the room and curtsied before my step mother and then me and asked if we
needed anything. My stepmother said, "Yes, your son and I would like some
lunch."

"Yes Miss, what would you like?" he asked meekly.

"A ham sandwich should suffice, I will expect you to start dinner soon,"
she said.

"And you Oliver?" he said turning toward me.

Before I could answer my stepmother said, "Excuse me sissy, is that any way
to address someone superior to you?"

"No Miss, sorry Miss," he said while giving her a deep curtsy. "My
apologies Mister Oliver. What can I make you for lunch?"

Still in shock to everything I have just seen I somehow stammer out,
"Yeah... ham sandwich." To which my father curtsied and got to work.

There was a silence as my father got to work making lunch that seemed to go
on forever, but in my shocked state I had no concept of time. Finally
Claire broke it by saying, "I can see you are confused, and I understand
that. You see your father is now what is called a sissy maid, he dresses in
frilly girly dresses and does what he is told. He is dressed in this way at
all times he is at home and on occasion outside as well. He has a strict
set of rules he must follow at all times, which I can go into later. If he
fails to follow any of these rules he will face punishment, this you will
see later as he has already earned punishment twice today, once for not
addressing you properly, and once for not greeting you at the door as I
told him to. Any questions?"

As she said all this my head was reeling, I could barely comprehend what
she was saying. I couldn't believe that my father was going through with
all this. I was snapped back to reality by her question. "Yeah... I have
tons... but I can't think straight right now," I babbled out in response.

"You must be hungry, once the maid has finished our lunch we can retire to
the living room to eat in private," she said paying my father no mind, as
if he wasn't even in the room.

At that time my feminized father set two plates on the table, each with a
simple sandwiches on it. As he set them down I noticed his nails were
painted a pale girly pink. This caused me to remember an incident that
happened when I was 6 or 7 years old. One day I had been playing at our
neighbor's house, my parents were having a particularly bad fight so they
sent me over there to get away from it. I wasn't thrilled about having to
play with a girl, but I couldn't do anything about it. If I remember
correctly her name was Emily, and she was about two years older than me, a
fact she regularly brought up when we played. On this particular day she
decided it would be fun to paint my nails, she picked a light pink similar
to the color my father was wearing now. When I got home that day with my
nails still painted I remember him going into a rage, screaming about how
boys don't wear nail polish and stuff like that. When I think about it that
may have been the first time he hit me. How times have changed.

Claire and I grabbed our plates and adjourned to the living room, we ate in
silence with the exception of my father in the kitchen performing some of
the preliminary steps for dinner. When I had finished my sandwich I rose to
take it back to the kitchen, but before I could take a step Claire stopped
me and said, "you don't have to do that, that's what we have a maid for,"
At which point she rang a little bell, the sound of which immediately
summoned my father, who walked in the room and curtsied both of us. When he
saw the empty plates he took them without a word and returned to the
kitchen.

After a moment I turned to my step mother on the other end of the sofa and
said, "What's going on here? Why is my dad dressed up like a woman?"

"Finally he speaks," she said with a little smile. "You more than anyone
should know how much of an ass your father can be, how bossy and mean he
can be. Well I will not stand for this like your mother would. So, after we
were married when he started to show his true colors I knew I had to do
something to curb his behavior. I read about sissy maids online and knew
that was the best way to get him to behave himself. I started simply
enough, withholding sex unless he wore panties, he continued to act up, so
I went further. I slowly replaced all his boxers with panties, adding bras,
stockings, heels, the whole nine yards a little more each time he acted up.
When that wasn't working I decided drastic measures were called for so I
took a few incriminating pictures and videos just in case. The final nail
in the coffin was when I had my lawyer go and rewrite our prenup so I would
get everything if he left me. Now I'm sure you're thinking that all that is
cruel to your father and that he doesn't deserve all that, but you can go
ask him yourself, he likes dressing in girl clothes, sure it took a little
convincing at first but he loves it now."

"Does he still work?" I asked.

"Yes, but he isn't in the office as often as he used to be, the company
runs itself now and he can do a lot of it from home. Before you ask, no he
does not go into the office like that, with the exception of his panties
and bras. His secretary knows and checks for me to make sure he doesn't
change into boxers or take them off on his way to the office."

"Why are you telling me all this? Why did you invite me over today?"

"Your father told me about how terrible he was to you when you were young,
I know you to be a kind young man who does not deserve anything like what
you had to go through at his hand. I figured this was a good way for you to
get back at him and for me to punish him for his past transgressions.
Imagine how embarrassed he must be to be serving his own son as a maid.
What I am offering is to bring you in, you can live here and help me train
your father, he can be your sissy maid too, this is how you can get him
back for every time he hit you or yelled at you for no reason. I understand
how weird this all is, and I would understand if you walked out the door
and never came back, but I ask that you at least think about it. The maid
prepared the guest room for you to stay in tonight, sleep on it and tell me
what you are going to do in the morning. Deal?"

I thought about it for a minute, considered everything I had seen and heard
since I got here, every moment from my childhood in which he hurt me, I
thought about it all and finally said, "I still don't know what to think,
but I agree, I will stay tonight and make a decision in the morning."

"Wonderful," she said as she started ringing her bell.

At the sound of the bell ringing my father appeared, curtsied and asked,
"Yes Miss? What do you need of me?"

"Your son will be staying with us tonight, make sure to set a place at the
table for him." She then turned to me and said, "Since you will be staying
is there anything you need out of your car?"

"Yeah, I have a change of clothes out there, I'll go fetch them in a little
while."

"Nonsense, that is what we have a maid for. Sissy, go get your son's things
out of his car."

"Yes Miss," he said with a bit of defeat in his voice. I watched in
amazement as my father perched on his high heeled shoes and in his frilly
maid dress walked down the driveway onto the street where I was parked in
full view of all his neighbors and any passersby. He gathered the few items
of clothing from my car and dutifully walked back up the driveway, as he
was about halfway up a car drove by a bit slowly, the man driving opened
his window and wolf whistled my sissified father, he turned and gave the
man a curtsy as if to thank him. The man started to laugh as he drove off.
My father returned to the house with my few items of clothing and very
politely asked me, "Where would you like me to put your things Mister
Oliver?"

"Um you can just put them wherever I'll be sleeping I guess," I said.
"Yes Mister Oliver," he said before he minced off down the hall to the
guest room.

Things were quiet for a while after that, Claire and I sat in the living
room and caught up a bit, she asked what I was up to, I asked about her, it
was all in all a pleasant conversation. It reminded me of the last time I
had come to visit, my father was at work late, as always, so I was left
with Claire to have a rather strained conversation. It was as if I had
forgotten my father's predicament for a moment. This was instantly broken
by the sound of high heels clicking into the room and my father the maid
politely saying, "Miss, dinner is ready if you and Mister Oliver would like
to eat." A few hours had passed since lunch, so we happily made our way to
the dining room.

Upon walking into the dining room my eye was immediately drawn to the
table. There were two places so well set at the table I almost felt like I
had just walked in to Downton Abbey. My father, still in full uniform of
course was standing in the corner, ready to serve. As we both settled into
our seats my father briefly disappears, quickly returning with two salads,
which were served to us without a word. As we ate we continued having
conversation as if no one was there, we even started talking about my
father, oddly enough I found myself speaking about him in the past tense.
Salads were eventually cleared and the main course was served, some kind of
pasta dish with shrimp and a spicy red sauce. I was surprised by how good
it was, in all of my life I had never known my father to be able to cook
anything. Being a little bit comfortable with the situation, and quite a
bit drunk at this point, I decided to make a comment. "This food is
amazing, you have him trained really well," I said with a chuckle.

"Yes, he does well most of the time. He has taken to cooking quite well.
You see he has a bit of free time most days, but the activities he may
undertake during that time are limited to researching food and recipes,
working on his makeup skills by watching youtube tutorials, reading fashion
magazines, and learning to sew and make clothes."

"Wow, not how I would expect any man to spend his time," I said between
bites.

"Your father is no longer a man darling, he is a sissy maid. In fact it had
been paining me all day to refer to her using the male pronouns which I'm
sure you will agree no longer fit her. Since all this is new to you I
figured I could let it slide for a little while. If you don't mind I will
no longer be referring to her as anything except."

"Sure, whatever you say," I said not as uncomfortably as I would have
thought.

"I understand if you continue to call her by those words, but if you stay
here long I will have to ask that you eventually do refer to her as such,"
she said sternly.

I didn't reply to that for whatever reason, I just continued eating.

As we finished dinner my stepmother rose from her place and said without
looking at my father, "sissy, you may clear the table and have your meal in
the kitchen, I will give you one hour to complete this. Once you are
finished you will join us in the living room for your evening punishment."

"Yes Miss," he replied and got to work clearing the table.

The next hour was quiet, Claire and I sat in the living room once again
watching some random movie on the television. Eventually my father walked
into the room and stood in the corner. I watched as Claire looked at her
watch and turned off the television. As she did my father walked to the
center of the room, kneeled before us, and said, "Mistress I have been a
bad sissy, please punish me for my mistakes," as if reading from a script.

"Good girl, before we get to your punishment tonight there is something
else you need to do first. I think it is time you gave your son his gift,"
she said with a sly smirk.

A look of panic washed over my father's face. Stammering he said, "Please
Miss, don't make me. Please it is too embarrassing."

She gave him a look that could kill. There was a long silence. Finally she
said, "You can either give him his gift, or I can throw it away forever."

The look of panic in my father's eyes grew even more intense as he said,
"Yes Miss, right away Miss." He then shuffled over on his knees until he
was right in front of me. He removed a chain from around his neck and held
it out in front of me as he said, "Mister Oliver please accept this gift as
an apology for all the years I was bad to you."

At the end of the chain he held out to me was a small silver key. I reached
out to grab it with a great deal of confusion. "What does this go to?" I
asked.

"Why don't you show him sissy," my step mother said to my father with that
grin I had seen so many times today.

My father looked like he was about to cry at this point as he stood up,
lifted his skirt, pulled down his white frilly panties, and revealed a
small pink cage like device locked onto his genitals.

"That is what they call a chastity device, it is there so she has no access
to her little thing. The key you hold in your hand is the only one in
existence. From now on he is not allowed to be unlocked without asking for
your permission first."

I was stunned by this and as such was not able to muster any words. I just
sat there staring at this little key.

My awed stare was broken by my step mother saying, "You may return to the
position." Upon hearing that my father pulled his panties back up, put his
skirt back down, and returned to his knees. "Tonight you will be punished
on three accounts, first for not answering the door for your son as I
ordered, second for not referring to your son in a the proper way to denote
his position as your superior, and third for not giving your son his gift
when you were told to do so."

"Yes Miss, thank you Miss," he replied.

"For the first account your punishment will be to clean all the windows
inside and out in one of your frilly pink sissy dresses, you are receiving
this punishment because you did not want someone, namely your son, to see
you as the sissy you are, this will make sure lots of people get to see
you. For the second account your punishment will be to apologize to your
son for not addressing him properly, you will do this by writing 'I'm sorry
for being a bad sissy Mister Oliver' 150 times during your free time
tomorrow. And for the third account, not giving your son his gift, I will
be giving you a gift, 50 spankings with the paddle. Plus you were given one
hour to clean up after our dinner and eat yours, it took you one hour and
twelve minutes to report to this room for punishment, as you know this
cannot go unpunished, so for every minute you were late I will add one
spank to your previous punishment, bringing the grand total to 62."

"Yes Miss, thank you Miss," my father replied with his eyes cast to the
floor.

"Good girl, now go get the paddle," she said sternly.

My father then left the room and quickly returned with a solid wooden
paddle. He presented it to his wife and walked to the center of the room
where he lifted up the back of his skirt, pulled down his panties, and bent
over, grabbing his ankles in anticipation of the punishment to come.

My step mother slowly rose from her seat, she walked into her position
behind him, and suddenly hit his bare bottom with her paddle producing a
loud slap. She hit him, spank after spank after spank. After about 40 slaps
she turned to me. "Want a go?" she said holding out the paddle to me.

I must have had a horrified look on my face when she said that, but after a
moment I remembered every time he spanked me for no reason as a child. I
stood up much to my step mother's delight, took the paddle, and slapped my
father's ass as hard as I could. The sound produced was so loud I could
swear it could be heard from the street, followed by a little yelp from my
father.

I finished the remaining 21 spanks with more pleasure than I thought I
would experience from such an odd occurrence. My father's ass was as red as
a tomato, I couldn't imagine how bad it must hurt, nonetheless he stood up,
pulled up his lacy panties, put his skirt back in place, turned to both of
us, and with a curtsy to each said, "Thank you Miss. Thank you Mister
Oliver."

"Good girl" Claire said giving her maid a little pat on the butt. "Now
Oliver, unless you require anything more of the sissy I think it is time
for me to adjourn for the evening, it is one of her duties to prepare me
for bed, and she will be off duty for the for the night after I retire."

"No, I think I'm all good. I'm actually pretty tired too, I think I'll also
be off to bed," I said with a slight yawn.

"You have an excellent night, if you need anything the sissy sleeps in the
second room on the right, you can't miss it there's a big pink heart on the
door, just knock and it will be her pleasure to serve you," said Claire
after wrapping me in a hug and kissing me on the cheek.

"Good night Mister Oliver," my father said as he curtsied to me one last
time for the night.

"Goodnight dad."

After all these pleasantries were exchanged Claire led her sissy maid down
the hall and into the master bedroom. I wandered to the guest room. When I
got into the room I pretty much fell into bed, it had been a long and
mentally trying day. As I settled into bed I remember the last thing I saw
as I drifted off to sleep, a framed picture of my dad and I when I was
younger, both with big forced fake smiles on our faces.

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