It doesn’t seem like a week, but it must be.
It seems like ages since Mistress Eleanor told
my wife, but I’ve been told nothing of her reaction. I don’t know if that is good or bad. Possibly a bit of both?
What I do know is that Mistress Eleanor said I
was a “good girl”. Her exact words. I blushed with pride although I am careful to
know my place. I do not want to have a
fall.
Apart from housework required to keep Mistress
Eleanor’s premises clean, tidy and functional I spend a lot of time in the
kitchen helping PS cook. PS is an
interesting person and I’m glad we are getting on well. Yes she bosses me about and I have to do a
lot of menial tasks for her, but she always says something nice to me, even if
it is just to compliment me on being a sissy.
There has been a subtle change. Just like I have to keep my dick in my
panties (not that I have an chance of getting it out from under all these old
fashioned and very restrictive female undergarments I am required to wear) PS
tells me she is now required to wear panties when I’m around. She says it’s to safe guard her
virginity. Hmmm, I’m not sure of
that.
But it does mean she talks about her panties
while we are together. It’s all rather
intimate, but actually I quite enjoy it.
It is lovely to hear her speak about a topic so close to my heart.
It was while I was absentmindedly standing with
my oven gloves on waiting for the timer to go that PS did something most
unexpected. She walked up to me, her
strong hands grasping my elbows, pinning my arms to my side and dragged me to
her so she could kiss me. On the lips. Before I knew it her tongue was forcing its
way inside my mouth and I found myself eagerly letting her invade me. Before I knew it she had finished and backed
off releasing me, a string of salvia joining use for a while until it broke too.
I felt dizzy and almost stumbled in my high heels. Her taste and spit lingered in my mouth, a
strange mix of flavours, complex and ever changing, some pleasant and some,
perhaps less so. “That’s for being a good girl” she smiled. Then the timer went off.
Composing myself as best I could I opened the
oven and retrieved the roast. What the
hell had just happened? After placing
the roast on the carver, cook approached with a big chef’s knife. “Stand aside sissy if you don’t want to get
bits trimmed off” her tone was mock menacing, but I squealed and minced out of
the way. Had I dreamt it? Had she really kissed me? Was that allowed? I suddenly felt bad for having let her kiss
me. What kind of slut lets someone kiss
them like that? So intimately? A French kiss no less. Then I giggled. A French kiss for a French maid. Sneaking a glance at cook I suddenly blushed. She’d kissed me! I’d been kissed! It felt like my first time. Oh my, maybe I would get pregnant?
Dear, dear diary, am I stupid sissy or what?
After serving dinner and then clearing up, it
was time for my main meal of the day.
Cook had some of the roast, well, rather a lot of the roast, not that I
wanted any of it, but I was hungry. I
was having salad, Pink Asian Noodle Salad.
This vegan recipe has the following ingredients:
Half a carrot
Half a raw beetroot
Half small cabbage
120g slivered almonds
100g crispy noodles (Chang’s)
Dressing: 40g each of apple cider vinegar, pure
Maple syrup, olive oil, gluten free tamari (or soya sauce if tamari hard to
find) and 2tsp sesame oil
Preparation:
Chop all vegetables to desired size (a few
seconds in one of those whizz things works a treat)
Add dressing carefully stir in (can use whizz on
reverse setting for a few seconds on a low speed)
Transfer to bowl and add in almonds and noodles
just before serving.
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