It has been five days since I served my Mistress at the motel. It feels like five weeks. Though the events were still vivid in my mind as if they had just happened, the longing to serve my Mistress again makes it seem like an eternity has passed.

I relived the episode over and over in my mind. It is consuming my thoughts. I am having difficulty concentrating on work. I lay awake at night in bed and ignore the hobbies and pleasures that had once consumed my free time. I can think of nothing other than if she will ever call me back. If so, what will my Mistress command me to do?

Maybe this was all? Maybe I had displeased her? Or perhaps her lover was unhappy with me and she has chosen another to serve her needs? Maybe this was a test and I had failed? Maybe I would never be allowed to serve her again?

All these dreaded questions go through my mind, but so do many wonderful memories. The feeling of pleasure putting on the panties for her. The memory of her collar around my neck and the firm tug of her leash. Remembering serving them both. Taking her lovers cock in my mouth; it was my first time to please a man. And remembering the pain and ecstasy as she filled me with the thick dildo and fucked my ass like I was nothing more than a cheap whore. Thinking of it made me hard. I am a sissy slut, I can't deny it any longer. The dirtier I was, the more aroused I became. And I could even recall the taste of his cum in my mouth as I licked it from my Mistress' sweet pussy.

Will these be my only memories? Or will she call on me again to serve her? The anxiety was consuming me.

My cell phone vibrates, bringing my thoughts back. I read the name on the message. It is a text message from my Mistress. My hands shake as I press the key to open the message. Hoping, yet fearful. Is she messaging me to say it is through? Is she letting me know that she no longer desires my service, or is it another command? I say a short prayer hoping for the latter.

I nervously open the message box and read, "Come to 1589 Sycamore Street by 2:00 today. Wash and Shave completely. And I mean – COMPLETELY.”

My heart leaps as I realize I am to serve her again. She is not disappointed in me after all. Or is she? The doubts creep back in. Maybe she is calling me to discipline me. Oh, that would be fine. I would happily feel her strap just for the opportunity to be in her presence again. But maybe, just maybe, she will allow me to serve her again.

Will it be her lover, or just her? Dressing me up? Or chaining me to the wall? No matter, I am thrilled to be called. Then I look at my watch again. 2:00! That is only three hours away! I have to hurry.

Quickly, I lay out my best business attire: slacks, pressed shirt and shined shoes, wanting to impress my Mistress as much as possible. I turn on the shower and let the water heat up as I brush my teeth. Hurrying as fast as I can, I remember her words, "Completely shaved". I have never shaved my legs before, but I dare not disobey this order. It is better to shave too much than too little, I believe.

I wash my body twice, scrubbing hard with my washcloth to clean my body as thoroughly as possible. With my body still warm from the shower and my skin moist, I spread the shaving cream on my legs, one at a time, and shave them as best I can. Once I feel they are sufficiently smooth, I go to the more intimate parts of my body, carefully shaving the area above my penis all the way up above my navel. I’m grateful I have no chest hair to worry about. Finally, with great care and taking my time, I remove the hair from my penis shaft and from my scrotum, even shaving between my legs and reaching back to get those few hairs growing near my asshole.

Feeling that I have sufficiently covered, or rather, uncovered those areas, I begin shaving my underarms. I begin to feel extremely feminine, as I remove the hair from my body, making myself smooth for my Mistress and having no idea why she is demanding this of me. I feel odd, my body naked without hair, but I feel a sense of pleasure and aroused as well. I look down to see my penis has become erect through all this.

Finishing my shower, I have one hour left before I must drive to the location. I look in the mirror to shave and notice several annoying hairs growing near my nipples. I had forgotten them in the shower. Afraid of cutting myself, I grab the tweezers and pull out the more than dozen tiny hairs. Each one is a bit painful. Yet with every pluck, I feel more and more girly. I’m hoping the extra effort will be noticed and appreciated by my Mistress.

I shave my face and then as a last step, shave my moustache. It was the hardest of all. The last vestiges of my manhood are gone as the whiskers wash down the sink. Smooth legs, smooth arms and now smooth face, I am now ready to appear before my Mistress. I smile to myself in the mirror and blow myself a little sissy kiss.

I dress in the clothing I had laid out on the bed, smoothing out all the wrinkles to look my best. I leave my house for what adventure, I do not know, but I am anxious and eager to go. Using my phone’s GPS I find the house sooner than expected. It is 1:45. I am early, thankfully. I can barely see the house from the road as I stop at the wrought iron gate with a large W scripted in the center. The house looks massive. Could this be where my Mistress lives? Not knowing her last name, I have no idea if it is her home or not. Maybe this is the home of her lover?

Sitting in the car, my anxiety returns. What am I to do? What will be my task? Should I press the intercom? Should I wait until exactly 2:00? Before I can even answer myself, the gate begins to swing open. I pull up the drive and park in the circle, where there are multiple cars already parked. Taking a quick glance around, I notice they are all new and expensive models; a Mercedes, a Lexus, a Lincoln, a Porsche, a Mustang convertible and several foreign models I am not sure of. My mind is curious about the owners, but I do not delay. I exit my car and walk nervously to the front door.

As I reach my hand up to grasp the knocker on the crafted wooden door, it opens before me. I am staring into an unfamiliar face. The woman standing before me is dressed professionally in a tailored, navy blue skirt suit with dark hose and matching high heels. She is near my Mistress' age, with lovely long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her eye shadow is dark blue and her lips dark red. She exudes power and confidence; in her stature, her dress and her demeanor.

She smiles slightly and says, "Second door to the left," and motions me with a wave of her hand. I follow her directions and find a large bedroom, with a king‐size bed covered in a cream white coverlet. In stark contrast to the coverlet are pieces of black material laying out across the bed. I pick up a silky maid outfit with lots of ruffles and lace. A pair of sheer black panties and black stockings are lying there also, as is a pair of low heeled women's pumps that are, surprisingly, exactly my size. To finish off the outfit, a small white doily cap lays there in contrast to the black clothing. The only other item on the bed is a small card. It reads, "Get dressed and be prepared to serve us my pretty slave."

I can see that my concern about my personal choice of attire for tonight was totally unnecessary. I disrobe and lay my male clothing in a folded pile on the chair beside the bed, and I change into what I must assume is to be not only my wardrobe for the evening, but also my position of service. Slipping my feet into the pumps, I am thankful that my Mistress did not choose three inch stilettos for me to wear.

I dress, using the mirror. I pull on the panties first, tucking my small penis inside the sheer material. I then pull the stockings over my feet and legs, feeling very feminine as the material covers my thighs. I stop for a moment to rub my hands across the smooth silky material, feeling pleased with my shaving job. I then step into the several layers of ruffles before finally lowering the dress over my head.

Tiny straps are all that cover my shoulders, as the dress is sleeveless. It comes to just above my breasts, with a lacy bodice and wired cups to imitate size B breast. I do my best to make the seams line up on the stockings and hook the garters on correctly. As I bend over to strap on the shoes, I glance back in the mirror and see that my entire bottom is exposed from behind. Standing straight up, the hem of the dress barely covers my panties. Bending, I blush, knowing what others will see.

An odd thought comes to my mind. I remember oftentimes masturbating to pictures of women dressed exactly like this. Will there be a room full of men that I must please? Men who are aroused by seeing a sissy dressed in sexy maid’s clothing? Men who will not stop at masturbation, but will want to use the maid for more intimate activities? Or will it be couples who I will attend, acting as only a simple maid serving food and drinks, being nothing more than part of the scenery?

Completely dressed in my maid outfit; stockings, panties, ruffles and shoes, I am not sure what to do next. Am I to wait in the room to be summoned, or shall I return to the front room seeking the lady I met when I arrived? Deciding it best to stay in the bedroom until summoned, I stare at myself in the mirror. I am embarrassed by my attire, but I am also excited by how feminine I look. I lift the ruffles to see that my penis is quite visible through the sheer panties. Then, I drop the ruffles back down to hide myself. I turn and twist in the mirror, admiring my outfit from different angles. The ruffles brush against my flesh every time I move, causing my penis to react in arousal.

Staring at myself, I am startled by the door opening. I turn quickly to see who is entering and I spy a lovely young lady standing in the doorway. She smiles at me and walks over to me, taking my hand. Not saying a word, she twirls me around to get a good look at my body, clothed in this tiniest of outfits. Admiring me as I was just admiring myself. However, this time I am the object of someone elses scrutiny. I blush bright red as she continues to stare at me.

"Nicely done," she says. "Bobbi will be pleased. She has been bragging about her new little sissy slave. I can see that her words are not without merit. Come. Follow me."

I follow her into the hallway and on into the main sitting room where there are seven women seated on couches and soft reclining chairs. Each of them looking striking and powerful in their own manner, yet one outshines them all, my Mistress.

She sits in the center of the room and all eyes glance to her once they see me enter. It appears as if each of them must seek her approval or permission before reacting to my presence. It is easy to see who is in control of the evening. My eyes meet hers and I immediately lower them. Feeling her power over me, I dare not stare at her.

"Come here, slave," she says, her voice commanding and clear.

I walk to her, keeping my eyes averted. Arriving in front of her I kneel and place my hands palm up, not speaking, yet showing my submission.

She pets my hair softly and runs her hand across my cheek gingerly. Then, she touches my face just above my lip, feeling the bald place where my moustache once belonged.

"You have done well, my slave. I was wondering how far your obedience would reach. I am impressed. And I do not impress easily."

I nod my head and inwardly say a huge thank you as my heart beats faster.

"Stand slave. Let my friends see my little sissy slut," my Mistress commands.

I quickly obey, turning to face each woman, one at a time. Turning first to those ladies seated to my Mistress’ right and then to those seated to her left. As I face each lady, I drop my gaze and nod my head downward as a sign of submission. I consider attempting to curtsy, but think it best not to fall on my face in front of them attempting something I am unfamiliar doing.

The woman who I met at the door stands and approaches me; I soon discover her name to be Bonnie. She is the lady of the house and the host of this day's events. Even so, she defers to my Mistress on all matters other than house related items.

"Ladies," she says. "I think we need a better look."

"With your permission, Bobbi?" She glances at my Mistress and receives a simple smile in return.

And without another word, Bonnie lifts my ruffles to expose my panties. The ladies giggle as they see my penis erect and pressing against the sheer material. One lady laughs and makes a comment about the smallness of my member. I blush brightly, and as they continue to giggle and make comments, I feel the erection disappear. Now, much smaller, the giggles increase. Some even apologizing for making it shrink. I can do nothing but stand there in my humiliation. I feel embarrassed by my femininity, knowing it is what I am, a sissy to be used by powerful women.

"That's enough ladies," my Mistress finally speaks. She turns to the one who is laughing the hardest and says, "Leta, you are jealous because your slave doesn't look nearly as pretty as mine."

Leta responds, "Yes, you are right. My apologies to your slave. He is a very pretty "little" boy for sure. And who cares what is between their legs. That is inconsequential. It, well, it looked quite amusing all hard like that."

"Apology accepted, Leta," my Mistress replies.

"Jules, will you take my slave out and explain his duties for the day while we visit a bit longer?" my Mistress asks the young lady who brought me into the room.

"Gladly, Bobbi,” Jules answers my Mistress.

The young lady who led me from the bedroom, now leads me to the adjoining room where there is a fully stocked bar against the east wall. Jules proceeds to fill me in on my duties for the day. These duties include serving drinks and sandwiches, and pretty much anything any of these ladies tell me to do.

"You do look lovely by the way,” Jules says. “And I think your penis is pretty much perfect for a sissy. I liked it hard. Do you think you can keep it hard while serving us?" She reaches under my ruffles and strokes it a few times until it comes back to full erection.

"No one will notice, but I will know. If you can keep it hard, I promise to go gentle on you later when it is my turn," she adds.

Her turn, I think to myself? Acting like nothing has happened, she shows me the drink cabinet and leaves me to fill eight glasses. A listing of each drink I am to pour is written on a paper laying on top of the bar counter. Beside each drink is the name of the lady to whom I will serve.

I re‐enter the room and walk slowly and carefully to each lady offering the tray of drinks, careful not to spill anything. I am also trying to prevent exposing myself any more than necessary. However, since each lady is reclining in their seat, I must bend over every time I serve a drink. Doing so gives the other ladies in the room quite a nice view of my bottom through the sheer panties. I hear quite a few crude, and even some vulgar, remarks regarding my anatomy.

After serving the drinks I return with finger sandwiches and the circle is repeated. I continue to be the object of their assessment and ridicule, as well as the source of quite a bit of laughter. The young lady, Jules, smiles as she takes a sandwich and without anyone noticing, slips her hand under my ruffles to check to see how I am doing. Even as embarrassed as I am, I cannot help being aroused by a room full of beautiful and powerful women watching me. My penis is fully erect and her touch makes it twitch inside the silky panties.

Eventually the ladies finish eating and I clean the dishes and napkins away. After putting the empty trays in the kitchen, I return to the room where the ladies are waiting. Noticing my return, my Mistress simply waves her hand to send me a command. In obedience, I cross the room to kneel beside her couch.

"Ladies, now for the entertainment," my Mistress says.

I watch as she pulls out two pair of dice. One is white with black dots, the other pair is red with white dots.

"Each of you will get two throws of the dice. The first will determine your order. The second will determine how many minutes you may use my slave," she instructs them.

"What," Angie says, a bit irritated. "The maximum is twelve minutes?"

"No Angie! Ladies, she did not let me finish. The number will be multiplied by five, so the lowest total would be ten minutes and the maximum will be an hour."

The ladies in the room smile and nod that they believe that is fair. Each of them a little bit of a gambler and hoping they will roll the large numbers.

"Wendy, bring out the toys," my Mistress commands.

I watch as Wendy rises from her cushioned chair and walks out of the room. Less than a minute passes before she returns pushing a wooden kitchen utility cart. The cart stands four feet tall and I estimate at least six feet long. There are nine open drawers, like sliding cabinet shelves, on the side facing us, allowing us to see inside. I assume there are nine on the opposing side as well. Each drawer is over a foot deep. The craftsmanship of the kitchen cart shows it is not just a storage box, but something very precious to its owner.

At first glance I think this might be a food or drink cart, but there are no wine bottles or food storage containers I can see. Instead, as I peer into the open drawers, I see a large assortment of kinky playthings. Some drawers contain paddles, whips, flogs and straps. Others contain plugs and vibrators. Another is filled with dozens of dildos of varying lengths and thicknesses. Multiple strap‐ons, so they will not have to share I assume, fill another drawer.

I shudder when I see some of the items: ball gags, blindfolds, cuffs and clamps, beads and balls, chastity cages and sounding rods. Each drawer has its own variety of playthings. Gratefully, I do not see anything with electrodes and wires, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t hidden in the back of one of the drawers, or on the other side of the cart. Setting on top of the cart are several different varieties of lubes, gels and creams, along with several beige and pink towels folded properly, awaiting their usefulness.

"Bama, get the drapes please. We need more light in the room," Bonnie, our host says.

I watch as a tall, slender woman rises to do as our host has asked. Her beautiful dress fits tightly against her body. Her simple motions accentuate her beauty. She has the grace and poise of a runway model.

As I watch Bama pulls the curtains back, it is not windows it reveals; but instead, I see multiple chains attached to wooden beams set against the wall. I also see a variety of bondage benches where I fear I will spend a good bit of the evening, tied and restrained. My thoughts quickly return to the first night I met my Mistress and she shackled me to her wall. My penis twitches at the thought and at how far I have come since that night not so long ago.

As my thoughts are drifting back, I hear the ladies laughing and joking with each other as they are rolling the dice for position; seeing who will go first to "warm me up" and who will get "what is left" after the others have used me. I look at the women and try to think what each might want me to do. Who will spank me and who will impale me? Who will humiliate me? Angie will be one who will humiliate me, I feel certain.

Will any of the women allow me to touch them? They are all so beautiful, but none as much as my Mistress. Maybe I will be rewarded by her this night. I must do my best to please her by pleasing her friends. Maybe I will get to lay by her side again after this night is over.

The dice have been rolled. The ladies know their order. Before the lady, who is to go first, rolls for the amount of time she is allowed, my Mistress speaks again.

"Ladies. The time will begin only after your first action. You will not lose any time waiting for my slave to assume a proper position, or for time needed to strap or cuff him; or to disrobe, if that be necessary. His outfit can be replaced, but he looks so pretty, I would prefer it not get stained or torn."

Continuing, my Mistress says, "If you choose to peg my slave, the time will not start until you are at least partially inserted. That seems fair doesn't it slave?"

I realize she is speaking to me. I nod my head in approval. What else would a slave do?

"Good. So, Wendy, you rolled to go first. Now you should roll to see how long you get to enjoy our little sissy slut," my Mistress tells her.

Wendy rolls the pair of red dice. I noticed the ladies had used the white dice when rolling earlier to determine the order.

"Twelve!" she squeals in pleasure. "I got a twelve! Double sixes."

"Nice roll, Wendy," my Mistress looks at me and winks suggestively. "Please don't wear him out. There are seven more of us who will be waiting our turn."

Wendy grins as the other ladies congratulate her on her roll.

"What is your choice?" my Mistress asks Wendy.

Wendy walks over to the cart she had rolled into the room just moments earlier. She immediately pulls out the drawer containing the dildos. Wendy gently touches them. Picking up a few and turning them over in her hand, she examines the life-like ridges on some and the smoothness of others. She compares the length of several, laying them side by side. Then, she wraps her fist around the bulb shaped ends of the dildos as if to imagine just how big a hole they could fit into.

Finally, Wendy settles for a pinkish, skin toned, six inch dildo that appeared to me to be quite thick. She looks at my Mistress and says, "I think this will be a good start."

Then smiling at me, she picks up a nine inch, black, rubber cock that her hand will not even reach around and says, "and this will be a good finish."

The ladies burst out laughing at her joke. I can only stand there and blush, and feel my sphincter muscles clench involuntarily.

TO BE CONTINUED....