Page 134 - PENTHOUSE LETTERS 2018 Writer Of The Year Award Jim McCartan

VARIATIONS

FEMALE DOMINATION

MAID TO SERVE

Henry dons a French maid’s outfit at the behest of Mistress Miranda
and caters to her every whim—and those of her domme friends.
By Henry Griffin

he very best thing about details of my workday, but I like her to subtle hints of what was to come, but
being married to Miranda have a general idea of what went on. The never making it totally clear. She hadn’t
is that I never know what success or failure of what I do has a huge cooked any food. She didn’t want to hear
to expect when I get home effect on my state of mind, so she needs about my work. She’d made me put away
T from work. Sometimes I find to know what’s happened, in case I ever my shoes and fetch her heels. But she
a loving wife and a hot meal waiting on seem distant, angry or hyper. Normally, hadn’t called me “slave” yet, which was
the table for me, but other times I find she takes quite an interest in the subject. often the first word I heard upon getting
a corset-clad dominatrix who wants to She seems proud that her husband is home when she was in the mood for a
punish me. I get so nervous and excited such a successful businessman—even at mistress/slave scene. She was keeping
when I open the door because I never my young age, which puts me more than me guessing, right up until the moment
know which Miranda I’m going to meet: a decade her junior—but on this occasion when I opened up her wardrobe.
the devoted housewife who always has Kneeling down to get Miranda’s heels, I
food on the table or the bitch queen of spotted a small package labeled: “slave.”
my darkest fantasies. Presumably, I was meant to open it, but
Sometimes Miranda likes to keep me suddenly my hands were shaking too
guessing, like when I got back from work “EATING MIRANDA much from my excitement; such was my
on Friday night. She was curled up on state of mind due to my impending scene
the couch in a yellow robe, idly flicking HAS ALWAYS with my mistress.
through a magazine. She glanced at me, BEEN MY “Hurry,” Miranda yelled from
but didn’t hurry over for a kiss like she downstairs, her impatient tone of voice
does when she’s feeling more playful. FAVORITE ACT enough to spur me into action. With
Her manner was slightly standoffish, shaking hands, I opened the wrapping
but there wasn’t any venom. I told her OF DEVOTION.” and uncovered what was my very worst
I was starving, hoping she’d cooked nightmare and my fondest wish: a
me something filling. I’d had a tough French maid’s outfit. Miranda wanted to
day, filled with back-to-back business sissify me! The very thought shocked my
meetings, and I could have eaten a horse! senses—and stiffened my cock.
“You won’t be eating till later,” she made me shush. I’d undone my laces Holding the package and Miranda’s
said Miranda, her eyes still upon her and kicked off my shoes, and Miranda did heels, I returned downstairs to find her
magazine. She didn’t say it with any real not approve. pacing back and forth. She seemed
aggression, but I still felt a shiver shoot “Put those away immediately,” she annoyed with me for taking so long to
up and down my spine because her shouted, pointing toward my shoes. return to her. Her normally soft, blue eyes
tone of voice was so crisp and decisive. Her nails were freshly manicured, and were steely and cold, while her luscious
Uncertain of how to respond, but eager unnervingly so—each one was as pointed lips had formed into an icy sneer. Under
to get in her good graces, I strolled over as a dagger. I shivered in anticipation as the circumstances, it was dumb of me
to give her a kiss. I aimed for her lips, Miranda used another long, red nail to to question her. But I couldn’t believe
but she turned her head, offering me direct me upstairs. she was asking me to wear a frilly,
her cheek instead. There was definitely Grabbing my shoes, I headed up to girlie pinafore! Her annoyance became
something in the air that night. Either the bedroom. As I reached the landing, I palpable when I told her how I felt. She
Miranda was feeling blue, or my mistress heard Miranda shout, “And while you’re grabbed hold of my shirt lapels, then
was coming out to play! up there, fetch my heels!” tugged so hard that the buttons flew off.
Growing anxious, I sat down and Miranda was playing a cat-and-mouse “You’ll wear the pinafore,” Miranda
started explaining how my day had game. She’d been toying with me ever barked, simultaneously slipping out of
been. I always spare Miranda the boring since I’d walked through the door, giving her robe. She was playing her trump card

132 Penthouse Variations