You can find the first three parts here: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
As the romance between the Mistress and Mr. Marcus blossomed, they became more and more inseparable. One day, the Mistress summoned me to the Office. Before I became her maidservant, this room had been mine. Now I was forbidden to use it any more, except to clean, polish and dust, or when I was summoned at the Mistress’s express command. There she was, seated in the grand chair behind the desk, Mr Marcus to one side lounging easily in another chair. There were no more chairs, nor was one offered. Instead, I had to stand on a black mat, which was brought out especially for occasions such as these. On the black mat was painted in white the outline of a small square, with just enough room for me to stand with my feet inside. I was extremely careful not to touch any of the white lines with my feet, since I knew the Mistress regarded this as a serious offence. With hands behind my back, I looked meekly at the floor, waiting for the Mistress to speak.
“Glenda, legally you are still my husband, but for many months now you have been my servant. This arrangement cannot continue any longer. I have decided to divorce you and marry Marcus. You are no longer fit to be my husband, if you were ever were”.
I stood there with my mouth hanging open, I could not help it. This was a bombshell.
“Glenda, stop looking like a moronic goldfish, and close your mouth immediately!”
I closed my mouth, I was dumbfounded.
“There is more”, the Mistress continued. “After the wedding, Marcus and I will be moving to a new much larger house. It will need a lot more upkeep, and we will need a full-time servant. I expect you to hand in your resignation to your present employers so that you can devote yourself solely to your work as a maid. There is a letter of resignation here for you to sign, as well as the divorce documents which Mr. Marcus will witness. But if you make any trouble, I will have no choice but to present this photograph collection as evidence to the divorce court”.
In front of her, was a large photo album, which I had never seen before. As she leafed through the pages, I could see photos of myself in full maid’s uniform serving at table, scrubbing the floor on my knees, bending over to receive the cane from Mr. Marcus. There were photos of me in a pink French maid’s uniform I had had to wear one evening, with a short white frilly pinafore, pink tights and pink high-heeled shoes. The Mistress put the legal papers and the letter of resignation over the photo album, and indicated the places where I was to sign. I trembled at the thought of these photos being shown in court. There was no doubt she would win the case, my behaviour would be regarded as totally unreasonable, while the thought of public exposure was terrifying. I had no choice. I leaned forward, being careful still to keep my feet within the white box, and signed both documents. Mr. Marcus then countersigned the divorce deed as the witness.
With the signed documents in her hand, she smiled triumphantly, which scared me. But all she said was “You may return to your duties. Dismissed!” I curtsied deeply and left the office to go back to scrubbing the kitchen floor.
Once I had received written acceptance of my job resignation, and once the court had ratified the divorce, the Mistress decided to hold a celebratory dinner. She wanted me to be in no doubt that the dinner was to be held specifically to celebrate her divorce. But this was a celebratory dinner just for two, I was neither to eat the food, nor drink the wine, nor sit at the table, but just to serve as a waitress throughout. Mr Marcus had brought two special bottles of vintage champagne to mark the occasion, so they had both had plenty to drink by the end of the meal. They drunk toasts to the future, and gazed rapturously into one another’s eyes.
Eventually they moved to the settee, sitting side by side, while I served them their coffee. In front of them, on the coffee table, was the photo album. I was sent to the kitchen to do the dishes, but I could hear their hilarity as presumably they were leafing through the pages of the photo album, laughing at my discomfiture.
Then I heard them go upstairs to the Office. Soon I was summoned from the kitchen. Again, the Mistress was seated in the grand chair, and again Mr. Marcus was at her side. I took great care to stand in the white square, with my feet not touching any of the white lines.
“There are two further documents for you to sign, Glenda”.
I had no idea what these documents could be.
“Since I will shortly be changing my name after marriage to Marcus, I thought I would also change your name. You may keep Glenda as your first name, but I have decided to change your surname to Scrub. It is an entirely appropriate name for a maid. Scrub by name and scrub by nature. So you will become Glenda Scrub, although I shall just call you Scrub. In addition, whenever I call you Scrub, you will curtsey deeply. Do you understand Scrub?”
“Yes Mistress”. I curtseyed deeply.
“To make this fully legal, Scrub, you will sign this Deed Poll document, changing your name to Glenda Scrub. Do you understand Scrub?”
“Yes Mistress”. With each mention of my new name, I took care to curtsey deeply, keeping my feet within the white lines.
“There is a second document I expect you to sign. As a full-time servant, you will no longer be capable of managing your own affairs, so I have decided to assume what is called lasting power of attorney. This will give me the legal right to handle all your financial affairs, and to make all decisions regarding your healthcare and welfare. You may of course choose not to sign these documents, but if you fail to do so Scrub, I will put you out on the street tonight!”
I knew I had no choice. If she put me out on the streets, I would be penniless, unemployed and homeless.
“Well, are you going to sign Scrub?”
“Yes Mistress”, I curtseyed.
“For both documents you will use your old male name for this one last time, Scrub”.
I curtseyed, and signed both documents, with Mr. Marcus acting as the witness.
A huge smile spread over the Mistress’ face. She was exultant in her triumph.
“The power of attorney is irrevocable. That is to say, even if you ever wanted to change your mind, the law will not allow it. It also means that if you still have any bank accounts, I can close them down and transfer the money into my own account. You are now a pauper, Scrub”.
“Yes Mistress”, I curtseyed.
“However, out of the goodness of my heart, I am going to allow you a small weekly allowance. But if you break anything, as well as getting a good thrashing, the cost of replacements will be stopped from your allowance. In addition, I will expect you to donate one quarter of your weekly allowance to charity”. With that she held out a child’s pink piggy bank. “This is where you will put your weekly donation Scrub”.
There seemed no end to my humiliation, but I was soon to realise it had scarcely begun.
“When you first became my servant, I said that you were like Sister George, that you had taken vows of poverty, obedience and chastity. Well now that I have reduced you to abject poverty, I am next going to teach you the meaning of total obedience, Scrub. For a start, let me make it clear that you will devote the rest of your life to unending housework, Scrub. It will mean endless cleaning, Scrub. Dusting, Scrub. Polishing, Scrub. Washing up, Scrub. Hoovering, Scrub. Laundering, Scrub. Scrubbing the floors, Scrub”.
One curtsey followed another as she rattled through this list of domestic duties. All the time I could see Mr Marcus lounging on the chair, smirking and laughing at me, while playing with the riding crop he held in his hands. I took great care to curtsey every time the Mistress said my new name and to avoid touching any of the white lines, since I knew from previous experience just how much Mr. Marcus cropping my backside.
“Now you will kneel”.
I knelt.
“For your next lesson in obedience, I am going to teach your catechism. But before I do that, I grant you on this special celebratory day permission to look at me. Look up!”
I looked up. The Mistress looked magnificent, eyes blazing, breasts taught and erect, as she stared down at me on my knees. She was wearing a slinky black off-the-shoulder dress, black patterned tights, and four-inch black heels. She looked as sexy and alluring as I had ever seen her. She bent over to speak directly into my ear, her lips so close I could feel her breath.
“Now I will catechise you. You still love me, don’t you slave?”
“Yes Mistress”. It was true, I did.
“Then say it!”
“I love you Mistress”.
“Now repeat after me: I adore you”
“ I adore you Mistress”
“I worship you as a Goddess”
“I worship you as a Goddess, Mistress”
“I want to serve you for the rest of my life”
“I want to serve you for the rest of my life, Mistress”.
“I will obey you in everything”.
“I will obey you in everything, Mistress”
“Good. Because I have devised the perfect test of your obedience. Your position as a servant cannot continue as a family secret for ever. I have decided to make my wedding to Marcus a double celebration. It will celebrate our marriage and your coming out! You are nothing but a sissy servant, and you will be nothing else until the day you die. And I want everyone to know you for what you are”.
“At the wedding, there will of course be a reception, at which you will serve all the guests as the maid. You will be dressed in a black calf-length uniform, with a white bibbed broderie anglaise pinafore. You will wear a white cap, collar and cuffs. You will wear little black ankle boots. And if you fail to provide anything less than perfect service, Marcus will afterwards give you the thrashing of your life”.
I went weak at the knees. I thought I was going to faint. It was as well I was still on my knees, because had I been standing, I might have keeled over. Everyone I knew in the locality would be at the wedding. There I would be in full maid’s uniform, acting as the waitress. Worse still, if I was terrified at the prospect, I was also excited. My member pressed so hard against my chastity device, I felt fit to burst.
“Of course, well before the reception I will let all the guests know about your new status. So it won’t be a shock for anyone. I will explain to them how you like to dress up as a sissy maid in a pinafore. I will explain to them how you deceived me for 15 years, and how you are now making it up to me by working as my full-time servant. I will explain to them how you like to be bossed around, to do menial chores, and how you like to be humiliated. I will personally ensure that all the guests know about your need to dress up as a sissy maid, so no-one should feel any sympathy for you, or any qualms about treating you as a servant. In fact, I imagine a lot of people will find it highly entertaining. Of course, there will be a lot of people there who knew you in your former life. You may have even been on first name terms. This will cease. From now on, whatever you called one another in the past, you will in future always address them as either Sir or Madam. Do you understand?”
“Yes Mistress”.
“And there is one final thing”.
The Mistress was already smiling at the thought of whatever she was about to tell me. “After the wedding reception, there will be an evening party. We thought it would be a delightful touch if you served as the waitress in your nice pink French maid’s uniform, with all those lovely little flounces”. So saying, she pointed at the photos in the album. “And to mark your coming out and the adoption of your new name, you will wear this cap, collar and pinafore, which have been prettily embroidered especially for the occasion”.
She pulled out the garments and laid them on the table. On the white pinafore, embroidered in pink, it said “I am a sissy”. On the cap was a little badge with my new name, “Scrub”. On the stiff white collar, also embroidered in pink was the one word “Servant”.
“Don’t you think these are pretty?”
“Yes Mistress”.
“Now that you have started to learn the meaning of poverty and obedience, you will start to learn the meaning of chastity. Of course on our wedding night, Marcus and I will sleep together. You of course will sleep alone, but only after you have cleared everything away, tidied up and washed up. For everyone at the party, there will be opportunities for dancing, for carousing, for kissing and cuddling. But not for you. Although you will be decked out prettily in pink, it will not be a party dress but a uniform. From now on, you will always wear a uniform, and you will always wear a pinafore. You will never attend a party again, except as a servant. You will never dance at parties, because you will always be serving others. There will be no kissing or cuddling for you, only an infinite round of domestic duties to perform. You will always sleep alone. Even in your solitary bed there will be no relief except when I deign to unlock your cock ring - and that won’t be very often. You are going to learn the full meaning of chastity, Scrub. I will be married to Marcus, you will be married to the kitchen sink. Now get up, get back to the kitchen and get on with your chores. Dismissed!”
As I retired to the kitchen, I now knew the Mistress’ threat of revealing the photo album in court had never mattered at all. I was going to be outed as a sissy maid regardless. I was single, penniless, unemployed and if the Mistress threw me out, I would be homeless and heartbroken. Her victory was complete. I was going to be seen by everyone I had ever known in full maid’s uniform, serving the guests at my ex-wife’s wedding reception. Worse still, I would have to act as the waitress at the evening party dressed all in pink, except for my white pinafore embroidered with “I am a sissy”.
“Scrub!” the Mistress interrupted my thoughts with a summons from the lounge. I hastened to her presence, curtseyed, and waited for her new command.
“I have decided on reflection to relent a little and allow you a little fun at the party. I have had these especially embroidered for you to wear under your pink uniform dress”.
She held out a pair of white panties, heavily flounced, on which was displayed in pink the instruction “Pinch me hard!”
“Scrub, for 15 years you have fantasised in secret about sissy maid humiliation. I am helping you live out the dream. I am going to ensure that you receive all the humiliation you deserve - and with 15 years compound interest!” She smiled sweetly. “This is going to be such an entertaining wedding”. Then she looked stern again. “Now get out and get back to your chores. Dismissed!”
Acknowledgement
The author gratefully acknowledges the inspiration of Ms Wooton’s brilliant 3-part story “The formation of my cuckold sissy maid husband”, also her kind agreement to the writing of this sequel.
Part 5 - The Wedding