Dear Diary - Day Twenty One

Today I was informed I was to serve at another one of Mistress Eleanor’s dinner parties, although this was just to be a small affair.  Cook seemed to know who the guests were and said one was to get a special dish.  The menu seemed simple enough, pan fried salmon and a Greek salad.  There was an individual blueberry pie for dessert, but just one. 

Cook explained I had to help her make the cream for the pie.  But I was just confused when she handed me a wooden spoon.  Then, before I knew what was happening she removed her knickers and lay back on the table spreading her legs.  Oh I thought, she wants me to go down on her again. 

“No you silly sissy, beat me with the spoon.” 

“What?”  I almost lost my composure and nearly forgot my manners.  “Sorry, Ma’am, you want me to do what?” 

PS glared at me.  “You heard, now get on with it.” 

Tentatively I gave her a playful smack with the spoon.

“Harder” she grunted.

I hit her again, watching her flesh wobble like jelly in response to the blow.  Her sex seemed to quiver, pleading with me, begging.

“Again... More... Harder...”  After each blow with the spoon PS grunted for me to increase the force and pace.  I didn’t want to hurt her, but I could tell by her breathing that she was enjoying this.  I was shocked. 

If that was not enough I was even more shocked after she had a series of massive orgasms.

I stood there silently, mesmerised by the sight of her now puffed up and swollen cunt.  I really wanted to lick it, but she snapped at me “No, not for the licks of you”.  I did my best to hide my hurt feelings and watched in amazement as she scooped what really did look like cream from inside her abused cunt.  She transferred it to a little dish and just grunted that it was for the pie.

Well, if that wasn’t enough I was horrified to find that Mistress Eleanor’s guests were my ex-wife and that fucking useless arsehole, blue maggot.  As I served drinks it was apparent he was trying to sleaze his way on to my ex-wife.  Worse she was flirting with him, leading him on.  And fuck me he wants to borrow money to build a wall or something.

I have to say serving drinks in that company was the hardest think I ever thought possible.  I had to smile, be courteous, attentive and submissive.  Luckily my training stood the test, even when BM put his hand up my skirt and gave my bottom a painful pinch.  One time my corset didn’t save me.  My ex-wife had seen how I’d squirmed and told me “Boys will be boys, not that you’d know.” 

“But” I silently mouthed at her.  “He comes from a different generation” she explained, talking about BM as if he wasn’t there.  He just leered at me.  “Take it as a compliment” he said, licking his lips and mouthing at me “Give us a blow job”. 

I looked at Mistress Eleanor.  “You should be used to it” she smiled.  And damn, as if that was an invitation, he did it again.  Harder if anything.

“He’s drunk” my ex-wife gave as an excuse, before adding that it was my fault for serving him drinks.

I wanted to say something to Mistress Eleanor, but before I could say anything she told me to “Let it go.”  My face must have registered my concern.  “He wouldn’t dare do it to a real woman, but a sissy is fair game, expected really.”  I felt strangely reassured by that.

“And as for giving him a blow job...” Mistress Eleanor paused, both her and my ex-wife savouring the look of horror on my face.  “It was a poorly worded joke, but...”  Again she paused and I felt sick.  “You chose to get offended.”

I curtseyed.  It was my fault.  I was dismissed.

When I returned to serve main meal they were seated and Mistress Eleanor asked my ex-wife what was the worst sex she’d ever had.  She looked at me.  “It was the disappointment really.  He’d given me a wonderful relaxing massage.  Gone down on me for ages...  I lost track of the orgasms.  But I was really looking forward to a good fuck.  Well, he had trouble getting an erection.  A soft little thing was rubbing against my pussy and while that felt nice I wanted something big inside.”  My ex giggled before going on.  “Well I asked if he was in yet.  Oh my, that did the trick and he got hard and started to poke and prod me, as if knocking at the door, just peeking his head round the corner to see if it was safe to come in.  I told him that I couldn’t feel him and just like that he came.  A one inch, one second fuck!”

“Oh how dreadful” Mistress Eleanor consoled my ex-wife.  Even BM was expressing sympathy, a bit too much in my opinion, all of it fake and false.  Worse, I saw that his hand was on her thigh.  I shuddered and left the room, glad that dinner was served.

It didn’t help that I had to tell cook all about it.  I told her how bad I felt and she said it’s your wife I feel sorry for, that I was pathetic.

After an allotted time I was sent back upstairs with the mini blueberry pie and special cream which cook had told me was for BM.  Good I thought.  I wish I could have stayed to watch him eat it, but I was sent away with the dirty plates.

When I got back to the kitchen cook was gone.  No sooner had I put down the tray my skirt was pulled up and up, trapping my arms and then covering my head, plunging me into darkness making it hard for me to breathe or cry out.  I tried struggling but was lifted up and carried off, just like a damsel in distress.

HELP!