Everyone wants a hypnotized kitty maid. My friend tried a different style for this one. And I wrote a story! Let me know what ya think. Since I dunno if this site allows italics, thoughts are in stars *like so* For Julia, it had been a very long day. She liked her job. Though she never thought growing up that she’d end up as a history teacher at a community college, it brought her joy. She was proud of her job: any stigma against community college usually struck her as financial elitism. To let someone learn something they didn’t know yesterday, especially something as valuable as history, was immensely satisfying. She was only twenty eight, not as old or wise as many of her colleagues, but on her best days she felt like a conjurer, a bard, bringing to life people and events long gone. Today was not such a day. She woke up feeling groggy, forgot her lunch at home, and the subject matter of the last class of the day was the philosophy of late antiquity monks and the historical context thereof. Not too exciting. She could teach it fine. But someone in the front row kept interrupting, kept objecting to the content of the monk philosophy. “Aren’t their premises absurd? Does anyone really believe this stuff?” Julia explained that she didn’t believe it, and it wasn’t a matter of believing, but a matter of granting someone’s premises so you can entertain and examine their conclusions. Still she kept getting interrupted. This guy thought he was smart, but he was missing the point entirely. On a different day she might have been stern, asked the culprit to be quiet or leave, but not today. Today it was just about finishing the lecture and getting home. So as she pulled up to the house, she was exhausted but grateful. Home at last. She was looking forward to talking to her roommate, Skip. Skip was a peculiar cat. Short and lithe, snow white, blue eyes and black spots. He had no job: he made a fortune by accident with some cryptocurrency. And yet here he was renting a cheap property with her, didn’t own any property of his own. He was twenty one, immature, had no consistent eating or sleeping schedule, and vacillated across a myriad of short term hobbies and interests. Sounds like kind of an annoying manchild, right? But Skip had a sense of responsibility, even though he wouldn’t admit it. He kept the house clean, paid for a VERY expensive and reliable high speed internet connection, and sometimes even cooked. Julia got the sense that Skip felt like his own wealth was unearned, and that this was his way of feeling useful. Maybe she was just projecting, but maybe not. His cooking was hit or miss, but Julia was ALWAYS grateful for a free meal that she didn’t have to prepare herself. Besides, she never made him dinner. Cooking was one of his many flavor of the month hobbies. He had actually made a delicious steak dinner last night, and the night before, a quiche that looked questionable but tasted delightful. That’s what Julia was thinking about as she lugged her suitcase towards the door. *Too many books in the suitcase.* Her only lunch today was an apple. An apple is insufficient for a 6’1 Siberian Tiger. *Maybe it’ll be breakfast for dinner,* she thought. *Maybe he doesn’t cook tonight, but there are eggs and ham and cheese in the fridge, we’ve got potatoes, maybe I’ll make a breakfast burrito*. Skip was laying on the couch in the living room watching TV, turned away from her. No shirt, gym shorts, that big top hat that he was so possessive of, classic Skip. “Heya. You making anything for dinner tonight?” He didn’t even turn around. His voice was ice. “Do it yourself, pussycat. Don’t be lazy.” Involuntarily, Julia’s claws were out. It felt like her core body temperature had leapt ten degrees. If anyone were looking at her face, they would have been in terror, for her expression was a berserker’s rage. For a second. *Breathe. He’s in one of his moods. But his fucking nerve. Leave, just leave,* she thought. *You’ll regret it if you stay, you’ll say something you can’t take back. Really though, LAZY? Breathe. At the door now. I’ll go treat myself to a real meal, not his chaff.* She reached for the doorknob, realized that her claws were still out, and closed her eyes. *Can’t drive this angry. Get a hold of yourself.* One big, slow breath. She retracted her claws, left the house, and got in her car. Now she was ok. As she drove, she replayed the whole thing in her head. And now she was mad again, not fighting mad, but injustice mad. *From a fucking couch, with no shirt, watching television, unemployed, without thinking a moment about the fact that I’ve been hard at work all day. “Pussycat”, that’s catcalling, or a slur, or something. LAZY. Don’t be lazy. From a couch.* She’d bet dollars to donuts that he hadn’t put on a shirt today. *Were those the same shorts he was wearing yesterday?* They weren’t dating. It was very kind of her to not tell him, “wear clothes like a functional member of society.” If she was gonna call him lazy, maybe he should put some clothes on. And then she found herself in the parking lot of one of those plaza malls. She laughed in spite of herself. *I was going to treat myself to real meal. But my stomach led me to the mall, land of burger joints and stir frys. Hardly even hungry, right now, after getting so angry. Skip, Idiot, ought to wear real clothing… clothing? I really haven’t bought anything, lately…* And all at once, the idea came to her. What a rush it would be. Absurd idea, not her kind of idea, vengeance. Exciting. Stupid, she’d never do something like that, history shows that vengeance is a vicious cycle, let alone something so egregious… But she didn’t go to the burger joint or the stir fry. She checked the thrift store, the high end clothes shop, and the halloween store. Having found what she was looking for, she got in her car and returned home. Here a digression is in order. Why do Julia and Skip live together? Bear with me a moment, and I’ll give you some context. Julia was raised in a strict religious household, and was always warned that sex must only be within the context of marriage. First and foremost, her doting parents always warned her that, since she was so pretty, people would view her as a sex object, and that she must always be wary of this, never allowing herself to be used. Of course, as children do, she took this too much to heart, and was in her youth paranoid and withdrawn, always worried about being objectified and not appreciated for her personality or mind. Perhaps this led her to hone her intellect, but it also was the cause of much suffering, and some missed opportunities to boot. And as she grew older, she discovered parts of her sexuality that she had forced down, suppressed. Namely, she was generally submissive.There was a part of her that liked being used, being appreciated, being an object of another’s pleasure: she realized that there was nothing wrong with this. But her tendency to overthink always meant that she couldn’t really enjoy it. Even though she wanted it, loved the idea of being obedient, sexy, even getting called a good girl, she would become nervous, get all kinds of childhood memories and bad associations, and essentially find herself in whichever emotional state is diametrically opposed to lust. Lots of awkward situations have resulted from this. But why discuss all this? Skip is, among many other things, an amateur hypnotist, and equipped with his exquisitely tooled golden pocket watch, he has quite a knack for it. When she’s hypnotized, Julia doesn’t have to worry about anxiety, bad memories, or any of that. In fact, she can’t. And Skip, with his petty insecurities and power fantasies, scratches her itch wonderfully. It’s a symbiotic relationship: Skip gets to experience every inch of a sexy tigress and act out his fantasies, while Julia gets to indulge her submissive impulses without having to worry about getting in her own way. And though Julia wouldn’t admit it, Skip is a cutie pie, and he’s a good dom when it matters: he lets her remember their sessions, he doesn’t trigger her when she’s doing something important, and he has a great instinct for pushing the limits right to the edge without falling off. You could say it’s complicated, but they certainly have a good time of it. And this is yet another reason that Julia was so angry at Skip: to be so rude to her seemed ungrateful at the very least. Why does the author bring this all up now, rather than illustrate it in another tale? Because Julia had a very particular memory in mind as she walked towards her house, a large shopping bag in one hand. One Saturday months ago, Skip was visibly stoned, and, he came up to Julia and triggered her without any of the usual theatrics. Rather than anything lewd, he made Julia pet him for over an hour. He wanted belly rubs, headpats, and ear scratches most of all. And when she pet his head, he was having such a good time of it that it almost seemed like he was the sub, writhing and purring in pleasure under Julia’s entranced paws. With those same paws, she opened the door. With these paws, she would enact her vengeance. She opened the door quietly, set down the bag gingerly. A cat is very stealthy when she needs to be, no matter her size. Padded paws on the doormat, then cold tile, then shag carpet. No more sound than the imperceptible release of breath and the tiny friction between her clothes and her skin. Her own heartbeat in her ears, millions of years of predatory instinct channeled here to another purpose. And then Skip’s measured breathing. *He’s still on the couch.* And now Julia is behind the couch. Showtime. One big motion now, keep your claws in, sweetie. In the space of half a second Julia stood, swept Skip’s top hat away, and immediately began stroking his head with both paws, softly but vigorously, the very ends of claws gently scratching each furrow where ear meets head. He jolted, but didn’t jolt his head away. He raised his eyes in a mix of fear, surprise, and joy: Julia rarely ever instigated anything, and never with this sort of aggression. She saw then a glint in his eyes, an impulse, something she recognized. He was going to trigger her. But she was faster. Without thinking, her other paw went to his mouth, and she jammed her thumb in sideways, her other fingers beginning to stroke his chin and neck. In a stern voice she might use with a student: “Don’t even think about it.” Skip struggled ineffectually for a moment, and Julia pulled herself closer to him, pressing the back of his head into her clothed breasts. That did it. Now his struggling was not fervent, but symbolic. Skip’s big ego wouldn’t let him just submit. But a few more seconds of petting and he was purring. Now her voice was gentler. “You can relax, Skip. You know you’re safe with me, I’m not going to hurt you. When’s the last time someone pampered you like this?” She felt his tongue on her thumb. He could bite if he really wanted to. Ear scratches turned now to headpats, and Skip blushed. “Oh, you’re a headpat slut, aren’t you, kitty? Now I’m going to keep patting your head, and you’re just going to settle down and enjoy it.” Skip shuddered. She slowly withdrew her thumb from his mouth, a thin strand of drool clinging. He was purring heavily now, eyes, half closed. She moved her paw down to his belly, dragging her paw across his midriff, now up to his floofy chest, a few circles, back to his tummy. He arched his back. She kept it up another minute. *What to say, now?* “Now I’m going to count down from ten, and with every number, you’re going to get sleepier and happier. And when I reach one, you’re going to be so sleepy and happy that your mind just melts, and it’ll feel so good. Don’t you want that?” A soft moan. Skip’s eyes were closed now. “mhmmmmm…” “Good kitty. Ten. Getting softer now.” She adjusted her position, alternated between ear scratches and headpats and strokes of the neck while her other hand went all along his belly. “Nine. So comfortable, so safe.” Now she pet the skin around his navel, the floof just above his groin, and he squirmed a little with pleasue. “Eight, trusting me, never wanting this to end. Seven, softer and softer.” One paw went in a circle around a nipple, though you couldn’t see his nipples through his chest fluff. “Six. So sleepy.” For a moment she lifted a hand to pull up her shirt, exposing her breasts. “Five, deeper.” And she positioned herself so that a breast was on each side of his head. She knew for a fact that the little perv loved it. He had once hypnotized her to act as a bed and slept in just this position, though horizontally, of course. “Four, giving in completely to me.” Skip’s grin was cartoonish. Headpats and boobs, he was in heaven. *Enjoy it while you can,* she thought. This was still vengeance. “Three, can’t resist the sound of my voice. Two, you’re swimming in light, the world is pleasure.” He was rock hard. Was he leaking? And as she spoke, she moved, one paw cradling his head while the other moved his midsection, shifting the skinny cat to a laying position. “One, Trance!” Julia had never hypnotized anyone before, but she had without a doubt learned from her experiences as a sub. Surely, Skip was under. Time to test it. “And as you float deeply in trance, opening your eyes slowly for me.” Sure enough, his eyes couldn’t lie. Beautiful rings of color cascaded within themselves, each ring giving way to the next in dazzling succession. *Ok, don’t get too excited now.* “You’re going to call me Mistress Julia.” “Yes, Mistress Julia.” A delightful cross between deadpan and shivering ecstasy. She wondered, do I look and sound like this when I’m in a trance? She was wet just thinking about it. But that wasn’t the agenda here. She stood up and moved to pull her shirt back down. She thought for a moment. “I am your mistress, and you must obey me. Nothing makes you happier than obeying my commands. Repeat that back to me.” Time to test it out. “You are my mistress… I must obey you… nothing makes me happier…” “Close every window in the house, then come back to me. Bring the large bag next to the door.” He stood up and walked in a daze. He was still rock hard and pitching a tent as he walked: as a matter of fact, she could smell some amount of cum. He went window to window. To have someone absolutely obedient to her… this was what Julia had planned, and it was a rush. But the plan wasn’t done yet. Julia noted with pleasure that Skip hadn’t stopped to pick his hat up off the ground. She leaned down picked it up, set it on her own head. It was too big on Skip, but about the right size for her. The important thing was the symbol. He was far too possessive of the hat; for now, it was hers. She took a seat on the couch. Skip returned with the bag. “Set the bag down in front of me and strip. Leave your clothes on the floor.” “Yes, Mistress Julia.” She had to admit, he sure was cute. Snow white fur with black spots, eyes filled with beautiful cascading rings, a lithe boyish frame one might find on a vase of hedonic antiquity, maybe seven inches of cock standing at attention with a little drip of pre going down the shaft, fuzzy balls swaying slightly as he took off his shorts then his underwear. No pubic hair, but rather a tuft of that same floof which covered his chest and belly. Julia meanwhile unbagged her purchase. It had been at the halloween store that she finally found it. A frilly french maid outfit, something out of an anime, complete with a low cut top, bows, lace, ruffles, a puffy skirt, and one of those lace covered headbands. “I am your mistress. That means you are my maid. Until I release you from trance, your name is Maid.” “You are my mistress… I am your maid… my name is Maid….” Oh, he was blushing with joy. This wasn’t just from the trance. Julia’s glee bordered on malicious. There was a hint of avarice in her voice now. “Extend your arms. We’re going to play dress-up.” — “Your dinner is ready, Mistress Julia.” And it smelled delightful. *Do hypnotized people make better cooks?* But Julia wondered: What to do with Skip while she ate? “Are you hungry, Maid?” “Yes, Mistress Julia.” A quick thought now. Kind of a weird thought. Better to be on the safe side. “Maid, because I am a kind mistress, you are allowed to eat and drink if you are hungry or thirsty, and you are allowed to go to the bathroom when you need to.” “Thank you, Mistress Julia.” Skip immediately began preparing himself a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of orange juice. Julia checked the clock. Eight thirty PM. Wow. Oatmeal and OJ. Eight thirty. But her first class wasn’t until ten o’clock tomorrow morning, so she didn’t have to wake up until eight thirty AM, so she wouldn’t have to go to bed so soon. She wondered why Skip made the decision to eat oatmeal and if his trance had any effect on the choice. Oh yes, the steak was delicious. Medium rare. There was a baked potato on the side that Skip had smothered in cheese, sour cream, and shredded, caramelized bacon. There were also steamed vegetables seasoned exquisitely and cooked to perfection, the broccoli at just the right level of softness, with the slightest hint of parmesan from the seasoning. “Maid, you made me a very good meal.” “Thank you, Mistress Julia.” He was excited at having pleased his mistress, she could hear in his voice. How cute. He was walking towards her now, preparing to set his orange juice and oatmeal on the table. “Stop, Maid.” Skip stood still. “Set your oatmeal bowl on the floor.” He did. “Now get a saucer from the pantry, and put that spoon away.” “Yes, Mistress Julia.” “Now, Maid. Set the plate down next to the bowl of oatmeal. Empty the orange juice onto the plate. Do not spill any.” Skip obeyed. “When mistress is at the table, you are not allowed to eat at the table. You must eat on the floor without using your hands to show that you are beneath me.” Julia wasn’t quite sure where this was coming from. And then she remembered, maybe an hour and a half ago. *Don’t be lazy.* And she grinned. “Lower your face into the orange juice. Submerge the front of your face for ten seconds.” “Yes, Mistress Julia.” Was this like giving someone a swirly? More sanitary, at least. As Skip ate, his face was dripping with OJ. He didn’t move to wipe it, because he wasn’t commanded to. Lapping up orange juice like a kitty with a saucerful of milk, getting oatmeal all over his face. But Julia felt no guilt. Because when Skip did things like this to her, she was usually dripping. There’s a joy in being made to humiliate yourself. Sure enough, Skip was blushing visibly, and Julia pet him on the head as he ate. “Good Maid.” — She commanded him to clean himself off, clear the table, wash the dishes, and clean the floor. The kitchen was tile: not so hard to clean. Julia debated making him clean it with his tongue, but that’s unsanitary. She laid on the floor and watched him clean for a while. Sure, the floor got her clothes a little dirty. But Maid can do the laundry. And it was better to watch from below. No silk panties on this maid. She could watch his throbbing member bob under the fluffy skirt, and she could watch his cute little bubble butt wiggle as he walked. It pleased her greatly to see Skip so aroused for so long without him being able to do a thing about it. The cleaning was quick and thorough. Julia only stopped Skip to grope him a few times. It was actually more fun to grope him through the skirt. She also finally took off Skip’s top hat, which she had been wearing for some time. It was nice, but rather impractical, and required a bit of a balancing act. She set the hat on the counter. “Maid, follow me upstairs.” She took a roundabout way, even walking around a table a few times, just to watch Skip follow her. He really was cute. With such a trusting, happy expression, he followed his mistress without once questioning or looking away from her. He was like a puppy or something. They made it to Julia’s room. “Maid, undress me.” She got on her knees and lifted her arms. Was this pushing it too far? Definitely. Julia liked being pampered. And it brought her great satisfaction to make Skip the maid undress her, underwear and all, without so much as a poke or a grope. She ordered him to retrieve her a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, then raised her arms to be dressed. This was nice. Julia grabbed her laptop and hopped onto her bed. And suddenly, one more idea, oh, this was MALICIOUS. “Oh Ma-aaid. Bring me my top hat from the downstairs counter.” She could see his cock spring up even under the thick skirt. His voice was shaking with pleasure as he responded. “I’ll bring you your hat, Mistress Julia.” Wow, he was walking differently. Was his cock that sensitive? And when he came back, Julia could really smell the precum. He might have leaked on the walk, she’d have to make him go clean that later. His expression was priceless: an open mouthed, drooling grin, hypnotized eyes, a blush that turned his white cheeks almost the color of watermelon. “Your ha-t.. mi.. Mistress. . Julia…” She was trying her hardest not to laugh. Wow, she really wasn’t the only dirty sub in this house! Was the hat thing really so symbolically important to him? He was definitely proud of it, thought it made him look official or something, but this, she didn’t expect. Julia smiled a toothy grin as she gestured to her head. And as Skip approached her, arms outstretched, his breathing became a labored panting, his legs began to shake, and his expression contorted with pleasure. Now Julia giggled, speaking in her sultriest voice. “Good Maid. Good boy.” This pushed Skip over the edge. As he placed the hat on her, he was cumming, thick ropes staining the skirt from the inside. A few globs dripped onto the carpet and onto Skip’s legs and paws. His knees knocked, his expression was lost in ecstasy, and he moaned softly. A very thick smell filled the room. The whole thing couldn’t have last more than ten seconds. Julia couldn’t help herself. “What a coronation, I feel like a queen. Now, Maid, wash yourself off, wash your uniform, do a load of laundry while you’re at it, and clean up all your cum in the house. You’ll check the time and remember when you need to go and move everything to the dryer. Come to me when you finish. You’re going to be naked until your uniform is washed.” Skip was in a daze, and maintained his expression of hypnotized bliss. “Yes, Mistress Julia.” He walked out of the room, droplets of cum dripping from his skirt as he walked. Nice not to have to worry about cleaning. — “Maid, lay down on the end of my bed.” She gestured, and Skip laid down on his stomach. “No, on your back.” He rolled over. “Now, I’m going to rest my legs on your tummy. And you’re going to give me a paw massage.” “I’m going to give you a paw massage, Mistress Julia.” Was that a little shaking in his voice? Oh, but he’s a good masseuse. Is this one of his hobbies? Skip’s delicate little paws could get into each little crevice and furrow, and still apply enough pressure to really feel nice. Everyone wants a sexy nude masseuse. Julia’s paws were tired and sore from a long day of working mostly on her feet. How long had it been since she’d had a massage? Half a decade? She had missed it, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it. Now Julia was purring, a deep, guttural purr. She opened her laptop and reviewed her lesson plans, checked her email, and reminded herself what she’d need to grade this weekend. Then distractions: videos, bit of social media, a game or two. Skip’s belly sure was soft. Julia could feel just a little bit of pudge, normally concealed under the floof. She had a bit of a belly herself, she wasn’t judging. But she’d remember this for later, give Skip a hard time about it. She laughed suddenly. *Yeah, give him a hard time about the little bit of pudge. Not eating off the floor or giving me his hat. Not that ridiculous orgasm that I didn’t even command of him. But yes, I’ll give him a hard time about the pudge.* That was better, that would remind him of everything else, and he’d blush, she was sure of it. Julia watched Skip massage her paws. His expression was calm joy, focus. He didn’t mind the paws and shins lying on his belly. Was this how he felt when he hypnotized her? Because in addition to Julia’s comfort and her pride at having turned the tables on Skip, there was a tinge of jealousy. Skip was in a state of happiness and peace, without responsibility. Julia couldn’t be so mad at him for earlier, because she saw herself reflected in Skip’s absolute submission. Mutual benefit. *We don’t just do it for ourselves.* Julia thought about her own past, her own psychology, her own flaws which years of reflection had made her painfully aware of. A moment of self pity. But then joy, immense joy at having Skip. Despite her misgivings, Skip let her indulge her joys. This was payback, alright, but a different sort of payback than Julia intended. “Harder, Maid. Really push the paw pads. Yes, like that.” — Skip was in his uniform again. It was eleven thirty, and Julia was putting her laptop away. It was finally time for the hat to come off. “That’s enough, Maid.” “Yes, Mistress Julia.” Skip ceased the massage. Julia thought for a moment. No way it ends here. “You’re going to sleep in the bed with me tonight and be my fluffy kitty maid doll.” “Yes, Mistress Julia.” “Say it. ‘I’m a fluffy kitty maid doll.’” “I’m a fluffy kitty maid doll.” His voice quivered a little. Was this one of his fantasies? “Good. Now turn off the lights and get in.” Skip was delectably cute and fuzzy: this much, we have established. And with his sensitivity to petting, he made the perfect doll. Julia always had the impulse to cuddle him, but a chance never really came up: if she so much as hugged him, he’d get turned on just from feeling boob through two layers of shirt and two layers of fur, and he’d trigger her. And that was fun, but that meant she wouldn’t get to cuddle him. So tonight Julia indulged, pulling Skip right against her body, patting his head, gently pulling her mouth around his sensitive ears, putting her paws down his shirt to rub his belly, up his skirt to fondle him. Julia pulled Skip’s head right against her clothed breasts and just squeezed him. They stayed like that for a long time. “You’re a good maid, Skip.” “Thank you, Mistress Julia.” “I’m happy this happened, I really liked playing with you.” “I’m happy this happened too, Mistress Julia.” “Tell me what your favorite part was, Maid.” “When you asked me to bring your hat, the walk to get it and the walk back, Mistress Julia.” “Why do you like that hat so much?” “It makes me feel taller, and I feel more serious, Mistress Julia.”
“I think you’re cute just like you are.” “Thank you.”
The warm feeling spread from the inside. Without thinking much about it, Julia lifted her shirt and held a breast to Skip’s mouth. “I know you like them. You can suck on it if you like.” It was a good, gentle feeling, a tug, a soft and ambiguous electric current of arousal. And a deeper feeling, an old warmth, a maternal feeling. Skip sucked gently. This was a different sort of feeling, fuzzy, relaxed, serene. It was somehow like a hammock or the rocking movements of a ship. They fell asleep like this, entwined, and dreamt of trees, and old friends, and impossible conversations under wide skies pregnant with the possibility of rain. — — Julia woke feeling well rested. Her eyes were closed at first. She’d have to snap Skip out of this soon, she thought. *Wait, where’s Skip?* Her eyes snapped open. Panic for a second. Then the smell of sausage and eggs. Of course. He woke up early to make breakfast without even being ordered to. Now THAT’S a good maid. Julia decided at that moment that he could have some of the breakfast too. She also decided that she would keep her maid until the weekend. — — “And when I snap my fingers (paws? furries have paws with fingers, you figure it out), you’re going to put away your uniform, and you’re going to return to your bed and fall into a deep sleep. And when you wake up, you’re going to be Skip again. But from now on, when I call you Maid, you’ll feel an irresistible urge to put the uniform on and serve me. You won’t remember that you have a trigger, but you’ll remember the whole time that you were Maid, and next time you’ll think before you’re rude to me.” SNAP! — “No, I don’t remember any of it! Don’t hypnotize ME any more, you big old predator!” “Why are you blushing?” “Shut up!” Skip turned and left the room. Julia called out behind him, smiling. “Don’t forget your HAT!” But Skip was wearing his hat already. He was happy Julia couldn’t see him any more. He knew she’d know how turned on he was. How to reconcile this, how to solve it? Her NERVE, to do that to him. *It was so so hot.* He knew that his time as Maid would show up in his dreams, inform his fantasies, he even knew that he needed it again, once just wasn’t enough. But his ego couldn’t take it. *Julia, above ME?* His subby busty tiger live-in concubine couldn’t control him, that was just too much. But he needed it. He took a long shower, masturbated (to memories of his time as Maid, of course), thought a while. And he came to a conclusion. *As long as I do it to her, make her a maid, and push her farther than she pushed me, it’s ok, it’s ok to be Maid sometimes. Yes, and then if I do it to her, she has the excuse to…* But why finish that thought? There was a new thought now. There’s no way Skip would be caught dead shopping for Julia’s new maid uniform. But he didn’t need to: there was already one in the house. It fit Skip perfectly. How would it fit Julia, with her tall, voluptuous frame? *Probably you could see her ass without even lifting the skirt. Would her huge tits even be able to fit in that top?* Already he was hard again. Will her belly be pressed right up against the tight fabric of the shirt, will he be able to see the outline? Enough fantasy. Skip toweled off and dressed, then went to his room, opened the top drawer of his dresser, and retrieved a beautiful gold pocket watch.
>> #336134
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For Julia, it had been a very long day.
She liked her job. Though she never thought growing up that she’d end up as a history teacher at a community college, it brought her joy. She was proud of her job: any stigma against community college usually struck her as financial elitism. To let someone learn something they didn’t know yesterday, especially something as valuable as history, was immensely satisfying. She was only twenty eight, not as old or wise as many of her colleagues, but on her best days she felt like a conjurer, a bard, bringing to life people and events long gone.
Today was not such a day. She woke up feeling groggy, forgot her lunch at home, and the subject matter of the last class of the day was the philosophy of late antiquity monks and the historical context thereof. Not too exciting. She could teach it fine. But someone in the front row kept interrupting, kept objecting to the content of the monk philosophy.
“Aren’t their premises absurd? Does anyone really believe this stuff?”
Julia explained that she didn’t believe it, and it wasn’t a matter of believing, but a matter of granting someone’s premises so you can entertain and examine their conclusions. Still she kept getting interrupted. This guy thought he was smart, but he was missing the point entirely. On a different day she might have been stern, asked the culprit to be quiet or leave, but not today. Today it was just about finishing the lecture and getting home.
So as she pulled up to the house, she was exhausted but grateful. Home at last. She was looking forward to talking to her roommate, Skip. Skip was a peculiar cat. Short and lithe, snow white, blue eyes and black spots. He had no job: he made a fortune by accident with some cryptocurrency. And yet here he was renting a cheap property with her, didn’t own any property of his own. He was twenty one, immature, had no consistent eating or sleeping schedule, and vacillated across a myriad of short term hobbies and interests. Sounds like kind of an annoying manchild, right? But Skip had a sense of responsibility, even though he wouldn’t admit it.
He kept the house clean, paid for a VERY expensive and reliable high speed internet connection, and sometimes even cooked. Julia got the sense that Skip felt like his own wealth was unearned, and that this was his way of feeling useful. Maybe she was just projecting, but maybe not. His cooking was hit or miss, but Julia was ALWAYS grateful for a free meal that she didn’t have to prepare herself. Besides, she never made him dinner. Cooking was one of his many flavor of the month hobbies. He had actually made a delicious steak dinner last night, and the night before, a quiche that looked questionable but tasted delightful.
That’s what Julia was thinking about as she lugged her suitcase towards the door. *Too many books in the suitcase.* Her only lunch today was an apple. An apple is insufficient for a 6’1 Siberian Tiger. *Maybe it’ll be breakfast for dinner,* she thought. *Maybe he doesn’t cook tonight, but there are eggs and ham and cheese in the fridge, we’ve got potatoes, maybe I’ll make a breakfast burrito*. Skip was laying on the couch in the living room watching TV, turned away from her. No shirt, gym shorts, that big top hat that he was so possessive of, classic Skip. “Heya. You making anything for dinner tonight?”
He didn’t even turn around. His voice was ice. “Do it yourself, pussycat. Don’t be lazy.”
Involuntarily, Julia’s claws were out. It felt like her core body temperature had leapt ten degrees. If anyone were looking at her face, they would have been in terror, for her expression was a berserker’s rage. For a second. *Breathe. He’s in one of his moods. But his fucking nerve. Leave, just leave,* she thought. *You’ll regret it if you stay, you’ll say something you can’t take back. Really though, LAZY? Breathe. At the door now. I’ll go treat myself to a real meal, not his chaff.*
She reached for the doorknob, realized that her claws were still out, and closed her eyes. *Can’t drive this angry. Get a hold of yourself.* One big, slow breath. She retracted her claws, left the house, and got in her car.
Now she was ok. As she drove, she replayed the whole thing in her head. And now she was mad again, not fighting mad, but injustice mad. *From a fucking couch, with no shirt, watching television, unemployed, without thinking a moment about the fact that I’ve been hard at work all day. “Pussycat”, that’s catcalling, or a slur, or something. LAZY. Don’t be lazy. From a couch.* She’d bet dollars to donuts that he hadn’t put on a shirt today. *Were those the same shorts he was wearing yesterday?* They weren’t dating. It was very kind of her to not tell him, “wear clothes like a functional member of society.” If she was gonna call him lazy, maybe he should put some clothes on.
And then she found herself in the parking lot of one of those plaza malls. She laughed in spite of herself. *I was going to treat myself to real meal. But my stomach led me to the mall, land of burger joints and stir frys. Hardly even hungry, right now, after getting so angry. Skip, Idiot, ought to wear real clothing… clothing? I really haven’t bought anything, lately…*
And all at once, the idea came to her. What a rush it would be. Absurd idea, not her kind of idea, vengeance. Exciting. Stupid, she’d never do something like that, history shows that vengeance is a vicious cycle, let alone something so egregious…
But she didn’t go to the burger joint or the stir fry. She checked the thrift store, the high end clothes shop, and the halloween store. Having found what she was looking for, she got in her car and returned home.
Here a digression is in order. Why do Julia and Skip live together? Bear with me a moment, and I’ll give you some context. Julia was raised in a strict religious household, and was always warned that sex must only be within the context of marriage. First and foremost, her doting parents always warned her that, since she was so pretty, people would view her as a sex object, and that she must always be wary of this, never allowing herself to be used. Of course, as children do, she took this too much to heart, and was in her youth paranoid and withdrawn, always worried about being objectified and not appreciated for her personality or mind.
Perhaps this led her to hone her intellect, but it also was the cause of much suffering, and some missed opportunities to boot. And as she grew older, she discovered parts of her sexuality that she had forced down, suppressed. Namely, she was generally submissive.There was a part of her that liked being used, being appreciated, being an object of another’s pleasure: she realized that there was nothing wrong with this. But her tendency to overthink always meant that she couldn’t really enjoy it. Even though she wanted it, loved the idea of being obedient, sexy, even getting called a good girl, she would become nervous, get all kinds of childhood memories and bad associations, and essentially find herself in whichever emotional state is diametrically opposed to lust. Lots of awkward situations have resulted from this. But why discuss all this?
Skip is, among many other things, an amateur hypnotist, and equipped with his exquisitely tooled golden pocket watch, he has quite a knack for it. When she’s hypnotized, Julia doesn’t have to worry about anxiety, bad memories, or any of that. In fact, she can’t. And Skip, with his petty insecurities and power fantasies, scratches her itch wonderfully. It’s a symbiotic relationship: Skip gets to experience every inch of a sexy tigress and act out his fantasies, while Julia gets to indulge her submissive impulses without having to worry about getting in her own way. And though Julia wouldn’t admit it, Skip is a cutie pie, and he’s a good dom when it matters: he lets her remember their sessions, he doesn’t trigger her when she’s doing something important, and he has a great instinct for pushing the limits right to the edge without falling off.
You could say it’s complicated, but they certainly have a good time of it. And this is yet another reason that Julia was so angry at Skip: to be so rude to her seemed ungrateful at the very least. Why does the author bring this all up now, rather than illustrate it in another tale? Because Julia had a very particular memory in mind as she walked towards her house, a large shopping bag in one hand.
One Saturday months ago, Skip was visibly stoned, and, he came up to Julia and triggered her without any of the usual theatrics. Rather than anything lewd, he made Julia pet him for over an hour. He wanted belly rubs, headpats, and ear scratches most of all. And when she pet his head, he was having such a good time of it that it almost seemed like he was the sub, writhing and purring in pleasure under Julia’s entranced paws. With those same paws, she opened the door. With these paws, she would enact her vengeance.
She opened the door quietly, set down the bag gingerly. A cat is very stealthy when she needs to be, no matter her size. Padded paws on the doormat, then cold tile, then shag carpet. No more sound than the imperceptible release of breath and the tiny friction between her clothes and her skin. Her own heartbeat in her ears, millions of years of predatory instinct channeled here to another purpose. And then Skip’s measured breathing. *He’s still on the couch.* And now Julia is behind the couch. Showtime. One big motion now, keep your claws in, sweetie.
In the space of half a second Julia stood, swept Skip’s top hat away, and immediately began stroking his head with both paws, softly but vigorously, the very ends of claws gently scratching each furrow where ear meets head. He jolted, but didn’t jolt his head away. He raised his eyes in a mix of fear, surprise, and joy: Julia rarely ever instigated anything, and never with this sort of aggression. She saw then a glint in his eyes, an impulse, something she recognized. He was going to trigger her. But she was faster. Without thinking, her other paw went to his mouth, and she jammed her thumb in sideways, her other fingers beginning to stroke his chin and neck. In a stern voice she might use with a student: “Don’t even think about it.” Skip struggled ineffectually for a moment, and Julia pulled herself closer to him, pressing the back of his head into her clothed breasts. That did it. Now his struggling was not fervent, but symbolic. Skip’s big ego wouldn’t let him just submit. But a few more seconds of petting and he was purring.
Now her voice was gentler. “You can relax, Skip. You know you’re safe with me, I’m not going to hurt you. When’s the last time someone pampered you like this?” She felt his tongue on her thumb. He could bite if he really wanted to. Ear scratches turned now to headpats, and Skip blushed. “Oh, you’re a headpat slut, aren’t you, kitty? Now I’m going to keep patting your head, and you’re just going to settle down and enjoy it.” Skip shuddered.
She slowly withdrew her thumb from his mouth, a thin strand of drool clinging. He was purring heavily now, eyes, half closed. She moved her paw down to his belly, dragging her paw across his midriff, now up to his floofy chest, a few circles, back to his tummy. He arched his back. She kept it up another minute. *What to say, now?*
“Now I’m going to count down from ten, and with every number, you’re going to get sleepier and happier. And when I reach one, you’re going to be so sleepy and happy that your mind just melts, and it’ll feel so good. Don’t you want that?”
A soft moan. Skip’s eyes were closed now. “mhmmmmm…”
“Good kitty. Ten. Getting softer now.” She adjusted her position, alternated between ear scratches and headpats and strokes of the neck while her other hand went all along his belly. “Nine. So comfortable, so safe.” Now she pet the skin around his navel, the floof just above his groin, and he squirmed a little with pleasue. “Eight, trusting me, never wanting this to end. Seven, softer and softer.” One paw went in a circle around a nipple, though you couldn’t see his nipples through his chest fluff. “Six. So sleepy.” For a moment she lifted a hand to pull up her shirt, exposing her breasts.
“Five, deeper.” And she positioned herself so that a breast was on each side of his head. She knew for a fact that the little perv loved it. He had once hypnotized her to act as a bed and slept in just this position, though horizontally, of course. “Four, giving in completely to me.” Skip’s grin was cartoonish. Headpats and boobs, he was in heaven. *Enjoy it while you can,* she thought. This was still vengeance. “Three, can’t resist the sound of my voice. Two, you’re swimming in light, the world is pleasure.” He was rock hard. Was he leaking? And as she spoke, she moved, one paw cradling his head while the other moved his midsection, shifting the skinny cat to a laying position. “One, Trance!”
Julia had never hypnotized anyone before, but she had without a doubt learned from her experiences as a sub. Surely, Skip was under. Time to test it. “And as you float deeply in trance, opening your eyes slowly for me.” Sure enough, his eyes couldn’t lie. Beautiful rings of color cascaded within themselves, each ring giving way to the next in dazzling succession. *Ok, don’t get too excited now.* “You’re going to call me Mistress Julia.”
“Yes, Mistress Julia.” A delightful cross between deadpan and shivering ecstasy. She wondered, do I look and sound like this when I’m in a trance? She was wet just thinking about it. But that wasn’t the agenda here. She stood up and moved to pull her shirt back down. She thought for a moment.
“I am your mistress, and you must obey me. Nothing makes you happier than obeying my commands. Repeat that back to me.” Time to test it out.
“You are my mistress… I must obey you… nothing makes me happier…”
“Close every window in the house, then come back to me. Bring the large bag next to the door.” He stood up and walked in a daze. He was still rock hard and pitching a tent as he walked: as a matter of fact, she could smell some amount of cum. He went window to window. To have someone absolutely obedient to her… this was what Julia had planned, and it was a rush. But the plan wasn’t done yet. Julia noted with pleasure that Skip hadn’t stopped to pick his hat up off the ground. She leaned down picked it up, set it on her own head. It was too big on Skip, but about the right size for her. The important thing was the symbol. He was far too possessive of the hat; for now, it was hers. She took a seat on the couch.
Skip returned with the bag. “Set the bag down in front of me and strip. Leave your clothes on the floor.”
“Yes, Mistress Julia.” She had to admit, he sure was cute. Snow white fur with black spots, eyes filled with beautiful cascading rings, a lithe boyish frame one might find on a vase of hedonic antiquity, maybe seven inches of cock standing at attention with a little drip of pre going down the shaft, fuzzy balls swaying slightly as he took off his shorts then his underwear. No pubic hair, but rather a tuft of that same floof which covered his chest and belly. Julia meanwhile unbagged her purchase. It had been at the halloween store that she finally found it. A frilly french maid outfit, something out of an anime, complete with a low cut top, bows, lace, ruffles, a puffy skirt, and one of those lace covered headbands.
“I am your mistress. That means you are my maid. Until I release you from trance, your name is Maid.”
“You are my mistress… I am your maid… my name is Maid….” Oh, he was blushing with joy. This wasn’t just from the trance.
Julia’s glee bordered on malicious. There was a hint of avarice in her voice now. “Extend your arms. We’re going to play dress-up.”
—
“Your dinner is ready, Mistress Julia.” And it smelled delightful. *Do hypnotized people make better cooks?* But Julia wondered: What to do with Skip while she ate?
“Are you hungry, Maid?”
“Yes, Mistress Julia.”
A quick thought now. Kind of a weird thought. Better to be on the safe side. “Maid, because I am a kind mistress, you are allowed to eat and drink if you are hungry or thirsty, and you are allowed to go to the bathroom when you need to.”
“Thank you, Mistress Julia.” Skip immediately began preparing himself a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of orange juice. Julia checked the clock. Eight thirty PM. Wow. Oatmeal and OJ. Eight thirty. But her first class wasn’t until ten o’clock tomorrow morning, so she didn’t have to wake up until eight thirty AM, so she wouldn’t have to go to bed so soon. She wondered why Skip made the decision to eat oatmeal and if his trance had any effect on the choice.
Oh yes, the steak was delicious. Medium rare. There was a baked potato on the side that Skip had smothered in cheese, sour cream, and shredded, caramelized bacon. There were also steamed vegetables seasoned exquisitely and cooked to perfection, the broccoli at just the right level of softness, with the slightest hint of parmesan from the seasoning.
“Maid, you made me a very good meal.”
“Thank you, Mistress Julia.” He was excited at having pleased his mistress, she could hear in his voice. How cute. He was walking towards her now, preparing to set his orange juice and oatmeal on the table.
“Stop, Maid.” Skip stood still. “Set your oatmeal bowl on the floor.” He did. “Now get a saucer from the pantry, and put that spoon away.”
“Yes, Mistress Julia.”
“Now, Maid. Set the plate down next to the bowl of oatmeal. Empty the orange juice onto the plate. Do not spill any.” Skip obeyed. “When mistress is at the table, you are not allowed to eat at the table. You must eat on the floor without using your hands to show that you are beneath me.” Julia wasn’t quite sure where this was coming from. And then she remembered, maybe an hour and a half ago. *Don’t be lazy.* And she grinned. “Lower your face into the orange juice. Submerge the front of your face for ten seconds.”
“Yes, Mistress Julia.”
Was this like giving someone a swirly? More sanitary, at least. As Skip ate, his face was dripping with OJ. He didn’t move to wipe it, because he wasn’t commanded to. Lapping up orange juice like a kitty with a saucerful of milk, getting oatmeal all over his face. But Julia felt no guilt. Because when Skip did things like this to her, she was usually dripping. There’s a joy in being made to humiliate yourself. Sure enough, Skip was blushing visibly, and Julia pet him on the head as he ate. “Good Maid.”
—
She commanded him to clean himself off, clear the table, wash the dishes, and clean the floor. The kitchen was tile: not so hard to clean. Julia debated making him clean it with his tongue, but that’s unsanitary. She laid on the floor and watched him clean for a while. Sure, the floor got her clothes a little dirty. But Maid can do the laundry. And it was better to watch from below. No silk panties on this maid. She could watch his throbbing member bob under the fluffy skirt, and she could watch his cute little bubble butt wiggle as he walked. It pleased her greatly to see Skip so aroused for so long without him being able to do a thing about it.
The cleaning was quick and thorough. Julia only stopped Skip to grope him a few times. It was actually more fun to grope him through the skirt. She also finally took off Skip’s top hat, which she had been wearing for some time. It was nice, but rather impractical, and required a bit of a balancing act. She set the hat on the counter. “Maid, follow me upstairs.” She took a roundabout way, even walking around a table a few times, just to watch Skip follow her. He really was cute. With such a trusting, happy expression, he followed his mistress without once questioning or looking away from her. He was like a puppy or something.
They made it to Julia’s room. “Maid, undress me.” She got on her knees and lifted her arms. Was this pushing it too far? Definitely. Julia liked being pampered. And it brought her great satisfaction to make Skip the maid undress her, underwear and all, without so much as a poke or a grope. She ordered him to retrieve her a pair of sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, then raised her arms to be dressed. This was nice. Julia grabbed her laptop and hopped onto her bed. And suddenly, one more idea, oh, this was MALICIOUS.
“Oh Ma-aaid. Bring me my top hat from the downstairs counter.” She could see his cock spring up even under the thick skirt. His voice was shaking with pleasure as he responded.
“I’ll bring you your hat, Mistress Julia.” Wow, he was walking differently. Was his cock that sensitive? And when he came back, Julia could really smell the precum. He might have leaked on the walk, she’d have to make him go clean that later. His expression was priceless: an open mouthed, drooling grin, hypnotized eyes, a blush that turned his white cheeks almost the color of watermelon. “Your ha-t.. mi.. Mistress. . Julia…” She was trying her hardest not to laugh. Wow, she really wasn’t the only dirty sub in this house! Was the hat thing really so symbolically important to him? He was definitely proud of it, thought it made him look official or something, but this, she didn’t expect.
Julia smiled a toothy grin as she gestured to her head. And as Skip approached her, arms outstretched, his breathing became a labored panting, his legs began to shake, and his expression contorted with pleasure. Now Julia giggled, speaking in her sultriest voice. “Good Maid. Good boy.” This pushed Skip over the edge. As he placed the hat on her, he was cumming, thick ropes staining the skirt from the inside. A few globs dripped onto the carpet and onto Skip’s legs and paws. His knees knocked, his expression was lost in ecstasy, and he moaned softly. A very thick smell filled the room. The whole thing couldn’t have last more than ten seconds.
Julia couldn’t help herself. “What a coronation, I feel like a queen. Now, Maid, wash yourself off, wash your uniform, do a load of laundry while you’re at it, and clean up all your cum in the house. You’ll check the time and remember when you need to go and move everything to the dryer. Come to me when you finish. You’re going to be naked until your uniform is washed.”
Skip was in a daze, and maintained his expression of hypnotized bliss. “Yes, Mistress Julia.” He walked out of the room, droplets of cum dripping from his skirt as he walked. Nice not to have to worry about cleaning.
—
“Maid, lay down on the end of my bed.” She gestured, and Skip laid down on his stomach. “No, on your back.” He rolled over. “Now, I’m going to rest my legs on your tummy. And you’re going to give me a paw massage.”
“I’m going to give you a paw massage, Mistress Julia.” Was that a little shaking in his voice? Oh, but he’s a good masseuse. Is this one of his hobbies? Skip’s delicate little paws could get into each little crevice and furrow, and still apply enough pressure to really feel nice. Everyone wants a sexy nude masseuse. Julia’s paws were tired and sore from a long day of working mostly on her feet. How long had it been since she’d had a massage? Half a decade? She had missed it, she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it.
Now Julia was purring, a deep, guttural purr. She opened her laptop and reviewed her lesson plans, checked her email, and reminded herself what she’d need to grade this weekend. Then distractions: videos, bit of social media, a game or two. Skip’s belly sure was soft. Julia could feel just a little bit of pudge, normally concealed under the floof. She had a bit of a belly herself, she wasn’t judging. But she’d remember this for later, give Skip a hard time about it.
She laughed suddenly. *Yeah, give him a hard time about the little bit of pudge. Not eating off the floor or giving me his hat. Not that ridiculous orgasm that I didn’t even command of him. But yes, I’ll give him a hard time about the pudge.* That was better, that would remind him of everything else, and he’d blush, she was sure of it.
Julia watched Skip massage her paws. His expression was calm joy, focus. He didn’t mind the paws and shins lying on his belly. Was this how he felt when he hypnotized her? Because in addition to Julia’s comfort and her pride at having turned the tables on Skip, there was a tinge of jealousy. Skip was in a state of happiness and peace, without responsibility. Julia couldn’t be so mad at him for earlier, because she saw herself reflected in Skip’s absolute submission. Mutual benefit. *We don’t just do it for ourselves.* Julia thought about her own past, her own psychology, her own flaws which years of reflection had made her painfully aware of. A moment of self pity. But then joy, immense joy at having Skip. Despite her misgivings, Skip let her indulge her joys. This was payback, alright, but a different sort of payback than Julia intended.
“Harder, Maid. Really push the paw pads. Yes, like that.”
—
Skip was in his uniform again. It was eleven thirty, and Julia was putting her laptop away. It was finally time for the hat to come off. “That’s enough, Maid.”
“Yes, Mistress Julia.” Skip ceased the massage. Julia thought for a moment. No way it ends here.
“You’re going to sleep in the bed with me tonight and be my fluffy kitty maid doll.”
“Yes, Mistress Julia.”
“Say it. ‘I’m a fluffy kitty maid doll.’”
“I’m a fluffy kitty maid doll.” His voice quivered a little. Was this one of his fantasies?
“Good. Now turn off the lights and get in.”
Skip was delectably cute and fuzzy: this much, we have established. And with his sensitivity to petting, he made the perfect doll. Julia always had the impulse to cuddle him, but a chance never really came up: if she so much as hugged him, he’d get turned on just from feeling boob through two layers of shirt and two layers of fur, and he’d trigger her. And that was fun, but that meant she wouldn’t get to cuddle him. So tonight Julia indulged, pulling Skip right against her body, patting his head, gently pulling her mouth around his sensitive ears, putting her paws down his shirt to rub his belly, up his skirt to fondle him. Julia pulled Skip’s head right against her clothed breasts and just squeezed him. They stayed like that for a long time.
“You’re a good maid, Skip.”
“Thank you, Mistress Julia.”
“I’m happy this happened, I really liked playing with you.”
“I’m happy this happened too, Mistress Julia.”
“Tell me what your favorite part was, Maid.”
“When you asked me to bring your hat, the walk to get it and the walk back, Mistress Julia.”
“Why do you like that hat so much?”
“It makes me feel taller, and I feel more serious, Mistress Julia.”
“I think you’re cute just like you are.”
“Thank you.”
The warm feeling spread from the inside. Without thinking much about it, Julia lifted her shirt and held a breast to Skip’s mouth. “I know you like them. You can suck on it if you like.”
It was a good, gentle feeling, a tug, a soft and ambiguous electric current of arousal. And a deeper feeling, an old warmth, a maternal feeling. Skip sucked gently. This was a different sort of feeling, fuzzy, relaxed, serene. It was somehow like a hammock or the rocking movements of a ship. They fell asleep like this, entwined, and dreamt of trees, and old friends, and impossible conversations under wide skies pregnant with the possibility of rain.
— —
Julia woke feeling well rested. Her eyes were closed at first. She’d have to snap Skip out of this soon, she thought.
*Wait, where’s Skip?* Her eyes snapped open. Panic for a second. Then the smell of sausage and eggs. Of course. He woke up early to make breakfast without even being ordered to. Now THAT’S a good maid. Julia decided at that moment that he could have some of the breakfast too. She also decided that she would keep her maid until the weekend.
— —
“And when I snap my fingers (paws? furries have paws with fingers, you figure it out), you’re going to put away your uniform, and you’re going to return to your bed and fall into a deep sleep. And when you wake up, you’re going to be Skip again. But from now on, when I call you Maid, you’ll feel an irresistible urge to put the uniform on and serve me. You won’t remember that you have a trigger, but you’ll remember the whole time that you were Maid, and next time you’ll think before you’re rude to me.” SNAP!
—
“No, I don’t remember any of it! Don’t hypnotize ME any more, you big old predator!”
“Why are you blushing?”
“Shut up!” Skip turned and left the room. Julia called out behind him, smiling.
“Don’t forget your HAT!”
But Skip was wearing his hat already. He was happy Julia couldn’t see him any more. He knew she’d know how turned on he was. How to reconcile this, how to solve it? Her NERVE, to do that to him. *It was so so hot.* He knew that his time as Maid would show up in his dreams, inform his fantasies, he even knew that he needed it again, once just wasn’t enough. But his ego couldn’t take it. *Julia, above ME?* His subby busty tiger live-in concubine couldn’t control him, that was just too much.
But he needed it. He took a long shower, masturbated (to memories of his time as Maid, of course), thought a while. And he came to a conclusion.
*As long as I do it to her, make her a maid, and push her farther than she pushed me, it’s ok, it’s ok to be Maid sometimes. Yes, and then if I do it to her, she has the excuse to…* But why finish that thought? There was a new thought now. There’s no way Skip would be caught dead shopping for Julia’s new maid uniform. But he didn’t need to: there was already one in the house. It fit Skip perfectly. How would it fit Julia, with her tall, voluptuous frame? *Probably you could see her ass without even lifting the skirt. Would her huge tits even be able to fit in that top?* Already he was hard again. Will her belly be pressed right up against the tight fabric of the shirt, will he be able to see the outline?
Enough fantasy. Skip toweled off and dressed, then went to his room, opened the top drawer of his dresser, and retrieved a beautiful gold pocket watch.