EXTRACT FOR
Sissies In Service
(Miranda Birch)

Half-way down the length of the long, wide hallway, they came to a door which Arabella opened to reveal a steep flight of stairs. At the foot of the stairs, another door opened into a cellar space. it was not warm, and was quite dark with only dim lighting from lamps recessed in the ceiling, spaced at long intervals. All in all, it looked decidedly institutional, and at stark variance with the rest of the house. 



"God!" said Susan, "it's like a prison down here!" 



"I see no need for the servants' quarters to be done up like a luxury hotel," answered Arabella primly. 



She took down a key off the wall, unlocked the door and they moved on to a stone-flagged corridor. Their high heels clacked loudly on the stone. 



"He'll be hearing us coming alright with this racket," Arabella said. "Good! It'll get her nerves jingling!" 



Susan could well imagine that! But who on earth was `he'? They came to an iron door and Arabella unlocked that too. "So, here we are. Come on in and we'll have some fun!" 



Susan followed her friend. What she saw made her heart beat faster. 



A man, similar in age and stature to Dorothy, but quite, quite nude and shaven completely bare to boot, leapt off the wooden bunk on which he had obviously been lying. For a moment he stood to attention then fell to his knees and pressed his mouth to one of the toes of Arabella's shoes. She smiled to Susan, naturally glad to be able to demonstrate her power. 



The room was small and sparsely furnished. There was a half-open door leading to a small bathroom. The whole impression was rather spartan. The thing which struck Susan most was the row of frocks hanging on a rail against one wall. There were around half a dozen, mostly black and white, the same pattern as `Dorothy' wore, but one was bright pink and even more elaborate in style. 



It was then that Susan noticed that the fellow kneeling at Arabella's feet, still slavishly running his tongue over the gleaming black leather of her boots, was in fact not quite nude. 



"What's that on his cock?" she blurted out. 



"Oh, just a restrainer. My `girls' are here to work, not lounge about wanking! That thing stops them playing with themselves," answered Arabella, as though such a thing were the most natural in the world. 



"Them?" 



"Yes. You've already met Dorothy upstairs. She was wearing one too, but you didn't notice! And you will see Charlotte in due course." 



"Dorothy..." Susan clapped her hand to her mouth as she suddenly realised. Arabella's maid wasn't a masculine-looking girl; it was a feminised male! 



"This is Penelope, by the way," Arabella went on, digging the male grovelling at her feet in the side with the pointed tip of one high-heeled boot. 



"Up, sissy!" she barked at him then. 



The man, pale and nervous got to his feet. His eyes flickered to Susan, then away. 



"I've come to give you a caning," Arabella told him coldly. "You knew that, didn't you?" 



The man flinched. His face was pale, and his eyes were full of pleading. 



"P-please, Mistress..." he babbled semi-coherently, "have... have mercy... it... it was only a slight slip..." 



Arabella in response gave him a couple of vigorous back-handed slaps across the face. First left, then right. Both times, her hand hit with full force. Susan was shocked at her display of casual violence. The man cried aloud, his head jerking with each impact. 



"Burning my knickers is not a slight slip," she slowly intoned with emphasis. "But after what you've got coming to you, will you be far more careful in your work, won't you?" 



"Y-yes, Mistress..." he whimpered, and was silent. He must have known that further pleading would be pointless.