Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 22

Part 1 can be found here.

I looked at the uniform before me.  My first thought was “how absurd that anyone would wear such a thing.”

As I cursed my ill fortune and muttered obscenities about Devina I slipped out of my clothes and started to dress in the ludicrous maids uniform. I pulled on the ridiculous stockings. Fishnets. I rolled my eyes and sighed.

Then I pulled on a grossly over stuffed bra, complete with breast forms. How absurd. And yet, it did look rather compelling.

I put on the garter beltt and attached the slim straps. My legs were still shaved from some of my own experiments, and as I caught sight of my reflection, I noticed my legs were vaguely sensual. I pulled on the silky panties, excessively frilly, which I suppose could be considered frivolous, and noticed how wonderful they felt. As I stretched and folded forward to exaggerate my bum, I watched my reflection, and felt fantastic. Looking in the mirror I could see I was indeed a changed man.  How far things had moved these past weeks.

By the time I had pulled on the maids dress and fastened the filly white apron I found that in some strange way I was quite enjoying myself. Going to the mirror I applied a little blush, which by now I always carried. How remiss of Chantelle not to leave make up.

The penultimate touch was a cute little collar. Pink satin and lace, with a steel ringlet for the leash and a masterful touch – a tiny bell. As I tied the silk bow to fasten it I noticed it tinkled with my every move. It was the sound of subjugation. The sound of complete surrender. I gazed at myself in the mirror, strangely pleased with the ensemble. I couldn’t help but think if it weren’t for the restraining device around my genitals, I might actually have an erection.

As I stepped into the heels, so high they felt as though I may need to see a chiropractor should I wear them long, I couldn’t help but reflect that they were the perfect size. Devina must have told Chantelle my size. What other secrets had passed between those lips, I wondered. Was my humiliation their joint and shared delight? I gazed at my reflection. I must be standing six foot six, I thought.

Finally I picked up the ball gag. I was about to fasten it in place when the door opened, without so much as a knock, and Chantelle walked confidently in.

“Oh, how cute,” she said. “You put on make up.”

“I thought…” I attempted to reply, but she cut me off.

“You can drop that sort of thing right now. If you’re going to be any use to me you will concentrate on doing what you’re told.”

“Er… Happy birthday…” I said rather lamely.


I could not help thinking that as elaborate as the maid costume might be, it was the collar that really made the ensemble. To willing choice to fasten it, to tie the pink ribbon, was a conscious act of absolute submission.  The knowledge that a flimsy piece of silk could bind every bit as securely as the steel between my legs was both thrilling and compelling. There was simply no room in my head for any thought of resistance.

Chantelle regarded me with appropriate disdain. She took the ball gag from my hands and pressed it through my open and willing lips, and secured the leather strap behind my head. I was about to say something, but by the time the words formed in my head it was too late.

With an exasperated sigh she looked directly at me. I searched her eyes for some sort of sign. Was there a slight look of affection there? A smile crossing her lips?

She slapped my face.

“You might want to do as you’re told tonight. You’re a decoration, not much more. Remember it and nothing too bad will happen to you. And I’m told that if you behave I am to give you this at the end of the evening.”

She held up a small brown envelope. It could well contain the key I so desperately needed for my release. I felt a wave of excitement and realised that, even though Chantelle may be an associate of Devina, it was just possible that she might prove reasonable.

Thoughts rushed through my mind. If I could just satisfy Chantelle, perhaps I could earn release and finally be able to satisfy Mandy. Her elephantine sex drive was as rampant as ever, and my excuses were running thin. I briefly contemplated reasons for couples parting, and it struck me that among things that might end perfectly good relationships, having your cock encased in a steel mesh cage and the key being held by a psychotic bitch could make the top three list. It was not a comforting thought.

If I played my cards right tonight though, Mandy would be getting that reward she so eagerly desired. I felt a little flattered at the thought of it. That she should be so enamoured with me. If she had any inkling of what privations I had suffered of late, I was sure she’d fly from my life like a beautiful bird free of the cage. Perhaps I would come to my senses once this ordeal was through. Stop all this madness, and build a sensible relationship with my delightful Mandy. Yes, she was headstrong, a very alpha character, but I could live with that. Maybe…

“Stop looking like a great pansy and get to your knees,” said Chantelle, bringing me brutally back to the present.

As I dropped to my knees, she opened a draw, and pulled out a leather hood. She pulled it over my head and secured it surprisingly snuggly. She then closed a zipper across the mouth, which farced the ball gag deeper into my mouth. No sound but a meaningless grunt could escape my mouth.

“Now get up.”

Chantelle attached the leash to the ringlet on my collar. She knew very well she didn’t have to pull hard, there was no thought of resistance in my mind. I did my best to walk nicely in the heels, but as I tottered along I realised I must look terrible.

She turned to me and slid one hand down the uniform to my crotch. She could feel the shape of the chastity device through the fabric of the dress.

She smiled.

“It’s true then. Good! You may even enjoy this evening, have you thought of that? Hold your head up and try to do as you’re told.”

She tugged on the leash and I followed her forward once more. With that she opened the door, and the sound of women’s voices drifted down the corridor. There were more guests now, I guessed. I followed obediently.

As I walked down the corridor, we passed two young women. They were kissing passionately, sipping a drink and fondling each other. I turned to look, only to feel the sharp tug on the leash. I continued to follow as Chantelle entered the large living room, which was now crowded with her friends.

I noticed two things immediately. The first was that I was the only male in the room. All eyes seemed to turn to me, notice me and giggle and then return to what they were talking about, as though I were little more than a passing curiosity.

The second was a woman gently stroking the thin fabric of a dress being worn by the unmistakeable form of my girlfriend, Mandy across the room. Both seemed entirely oblivious to my presence, and Mandy, far from resisting this intimacy, was drawing closer to her companion, and reciprocating with casual touches and movements.

And she’d told me that this evening was her book club night.

Part 23 can be found HERE.

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3 Replies to “Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 22”

  1. Did not see that coming. Ms. Mandy huh well then the plot thickens. Still another page before i can confirm or deny that this is my bag. Strong start towards yes. I love the masquerade mask idea better, rubber im a bit ify on but if i walked in w my lady there id be thankful for the full head gear. Everything else is on point. Loveing this

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