Daisy

                                                                               London, Rotterdam, June 1995.

Daisy is British. I met her in The City when I had just finished a negotiation. I was trying to hail a cab when I saw a sissy maid in uniform. She trotted taking her petticoats with her hands in order to go faster on her high heels. I could not help but smile at that surreal scene and I thought that the British were decidedly a population of crackpots. While the maid was moving very clearly to me, I began to frown. Indeed, she stopped in front of me, made a very neat curtsy and fell at my feet to kiss my shoes. I looked around me, I was even so a little embarrassed. But no one seemed to be shocked by this scene. Some passers-by smiled, but ultimately, the street life continued as if nothing had happened. The famous British phlegm. I moved my feet, saying: "Stand up sissy! What's happen?". She stood and looked down in an attitude of submission. Fingertip under her chin, I raised his head. Her makeup was impeccable though somewhat charged to my taste. She dared not look at me, she was trying to turn his head but I maintained pressure to see her face to face.                                                                                     

- So Sissy, What's happen?
She became nervous. I sensed that she was about to make me a declaration... of love. Yes it looked like that. Shyness mixed with nervousness.
- Please Mistress, take me with you.
- I am not a Mistress. I do not live with pervert guys like you.
- Please Mistress, I beg you, please take me with you. I will be a good maid.
Tears came to his eyes. The whole story demanded explanations. I stopped a taxi and we went both to my hotel. I had to leave for Rotterdam, where I was living, the next morning on a flight late in the morning. In my hotel room, she bowed again and kissed my shoes. It was time that the comedy ends. I freed myself to go to the bathroom. I returned armed with a hairbrush. She was still prostrate on the ground. I lifted her petticoats and began to beat violently with the back of the brush. Quickly she began to scream.
- Now asshole, I want the truth. Who are you? And why are you calling me Mistress?
- I am Daisy, Mistress
The brush fell three times on her buttocks with more violence.
- I don't have all the night! The next time I will make your butt bleeding!
She revealed to me her real name and told me an amazing story. There was about a year and a half, she had participated in one of my meetings. She was the assistant of a negotiator. At noon, during the meal, she introduced herself into the meeting room to searching in my computer. I had not locked it. She had orders from his leader. She made a copy of my notes on the meeting on a USB key. But after that, her gaze was drawn to my email box. I had a small conversation with Marieke, (my cooker and first sissy) which, of course, in her messages called me "Meesteres". As the word in Dutch is close to the "Mistress" in English, she also made a copy of my emails. Later she had translated the Dutch in English thanks to the internet. So she understood that I was a dominatrix and I had with me a servant. It was the dream of her life.

 Note: It's why today in these negotiations, I write my notes on paper  having always the keys of the meeting room. And also it's why I have no computer. I am working as a negotiator in The City to clarify commercial relations between enterprises.

I carefully looked at her face and finally recognized the pale and timid young man who stood at the bottom of the meeting room that day.
- How long have you wear sissy's clothes?
- Seven years Mistress.
- Are you married?
- No Mistress.
- So you live alone.
- Yes Mistress.
- Okay we are going in your home now.
- I live as a full time live-in slave sissy in Mistress Luna vacancy. I pay for a room and to wear sissy's clothing.
- What is this? Some kind of hotel for sissies?
- Yes Mistress.
- And you want to stop this life? Why?
- I get bored, Mistress. And I want a full life sissy. With Mistress Luna, I must work to pay the room. You can see the web of Mrs. Luna.
I turned on my computer and went to see the web of this Mistress:
Indeed I began to understand the problem of Daisy. I asked her to completely undress and examined her. Her skin was soft, white and perfectly depilated. She was wearing a chastity cage and a plug. Her buttocks were red-scarlet, that was the price she had to pay to become my sissy.

My decision was made. I reserved a place for her by internet in my plane the next day and sent her back to her hotel for sissy to give his account. She returned two hours later with a suitcase that contained her only one maid uniform. She trashed her male clothes and presented herself to me in an woman unisex outfit. It was proof of intelligence. Subsequently I have never been disappointed by his pragmatism.

Daisy is a very traditional sissy. She likes wearing maid uniform. I buy, at least, 4 or 5 uniforms in a year for her. She loves frilly underwear and she does the chores like that. She is not obliged, there is no rule about this. But it's her fantasy, the dream of her life becoming reality. Now, she have a routine and is proud to clean all that is indispensable (as she says). I pay 2 times a year a private society of professional cleaners because it's necessary, the house is too big. So, for Daisy, it's a maintenance routine to keep the house clean. She need also to be punished, it's another of her fantasies. But I consider the punishment as a reward. There is a ritual for her. For the others also but only if I say it because it's not a fantasy for Marieke and Estelle. When I say for example: "Marieke! Come and confess!", it's a humiliation. It's also because I know that Marieke have done a large failure. And it's the same for Estelle (my younger French maid). But for Daisy like it's a fantasy there is a special ritual: the Sunday morning, if I am in mood, she comes to the veranda of the library. I sit down in a comfortable armchair and look at the garden. She brings me a coffee with a little cake she chooses for me. She kneels in front of me and prostrates herself to kiss my shoes. Then, always in her knees, she rises and comes near me so I can reach her with my hand because sometimes I slap her, especially when I know she is telling me lies. She joins her hands like she is about to make a prayer and begin to confess all her failures during the last week only even if there are several weeks without confession (otherwise it's too long). There is no table of penalties. She never know what will be the punishment in the afternoon. At the end of her confession, I said: "It's grave, Daisy" or "It's bad, sweetie" or "It's disturbing, slave" or another sentence to appreciate the confession. Sometimes, to joke, I say: "It's nothing baby, everyone can be wrong" and I conclude by "We will do a walk outside this afternoon, the sun is shining". And then, she open a little her mouth like she is surprised and begins to beg me to punish her.

As I leave my sissies free to decorate their room, each of them have a different room. Their rooms are the old rooms for the servants located under the roof, at the top of the house when all my family was here.

So we are going now in the room of Daisy. It's a pink room, with frilly curtains at the window. In the closet there is: a pack of Tampax, a doll, a note book and a box with hairpins, ribbons and hair curlers. At bottom, baby diapers as she hate this it's a humiliating punishment for her. In another closet there are all her uniforms, black, pink, blue French uniforms, and all the shoes in the bottom. At top, a range of maid caps and all the aprons. In the end of the range of uniforms, there are baby-doll nighties all in pink or white. In the drawer of the table there is her diary. All days she write in her diary. I could read for you, some pages, but it's another story. And you don't want to know this one now, isn't it, it will be very tactless as it's so personal. And... Oh! Oh! I discover now that she have put a padlock on it...

Daisy in her black & pink maid uniform.