Erica Kent

Chastity Cuckold Tales: Cuckold Maid (eBook)


Mistress Corrine has planned a wonderful weekend get-away at a resort-spa. Wonderful for HER. Not so much for her submissive husband-sissy Larry/Lori. While Corrine relaxes and is pampered along with her alpha-male lover, Rick, Lori gets assigned to the resort housekeeping and cocktail staff. It’s a weekend of humiliation and torment in stilettos for the …Cuckold Maid.


Chapter TWO

Larry pushed the luggage cart through the lobby and toward the elevators. They were staying at a high-end resort/spa, and tanned men and women, mostly couples, filled the lobby. Corrine and Rick are gonna fit right in.
The key indicated the room was on the fourth floor. Larry pushed the cart from the elevator, I’m nothing but their baggage handler, and read the signage, room 420 was to the right, at the end of the hall. He glumly pushed the cart down the hall, maneuvering around a large cleaning cart.
An older Hispanic housekeeper smiled at him, her eyes alive with excitement, “Welcome to Casa del Sol.”
Larry mumbled a subdued ‘Thanks’ and worked his way down the hall.
A second maid, pretty and also Hispanic, but younger, appeared. She flashed a smile, “Enjoy your stay at Casa del Sol.”
“Yea, sure, thanks,” Larry said. The staff seems friendly enough, probably the only friendly faces I’ll see.
The corner room had windows on two sides and a wrap-around balcony. Larry walked onto the balcony, below was the pool, and in the distance the golf course and then the mountains. He returned to the room and started unpacking Corrine’s bags. When he opened the dresser drawers he found two of them already filled. Probably Rick’s. He carefully placed Corrine’s things in the dresser. There, the lovers are already together.
He went to the closet to hang up the rest of Corrine’s items. Again, he found Rick’s things and a pink garment bag. A purple envelope addressed to ‘Lori’ was pinned to the bag.
He took a deep breath, obviously I’m Lori, and opened the envelope. The card inside read:

Keep following orders; do what you’re told, from anyone that tells you.
Your first change of clothes is in this bag. Get dressed and wait.

Larry placed the garment bag on the bed, one bed, and I sleep where? He used the key he’d been given to unlock the bag and removed the dress. He held it out, at arm’s length and studied it. The dress was a simple black jersey with a white lace scalloped collar, yet there was something about the dress, he’d seen it…
He froze as the realization flooded him, a terrifying glimpse of the romantic weekend ahead. The maids in the hall, no she wouldn’t. He rushed to the door and quietly opened it, only enough to peek out down the hall. One of the maids was pushing a vacuum cleaner into a room, but he still got a good look at her dress, black, with a white lace collar.
He walked back to the bed to remove the rest of the bag’s contents: a rigidly boned waist cincher with eight garters, black seamed fishnet stockings, a boned long-line bra, four-inch black patent stilettos, a white apron, a black wig and makeup.
His instructions were to dress, and wait; so he did.


“Housekeeping,” the lilting voice and the opening of the door came before he could take two steps. The pretty Hispanic maid he’d passed in the hall now walked into the room. Her eyes twinkled and her lips curled into a devious smile, as she looked at him wearing a dress identical to hers. Her mood changed abruptly as she pointed to the far corner of the room. “Stand in the corner, face the wall.”
He bobbed an instinctive curtsey, his natural behavior when in a dress and given an order by a superior female, a condition he found more and more common in his life. Facing the corner, feet together, heels and toes touching, he balanced precariously on his heels and waited.
Moments later he heard the footfalls of another enter the room. These steps were more purposeful, more authoritative. “This her?” The second voice was older, feminine, Hispanic and filled him with dread.
“Yes,” the pretty maid said. “She was dressed and waiting, as she’d been told; seems to follow orders.”
“We’ll see, after this weekend, we’ll see. Turn around,” commanded the older woman, “we need to get you to work.”
Larry turned from the corner, curtsied and walked forward. He had his chance to look at his new tormentors, although he avoided direct eye contact.
“I am Lupe Gutierrez, Housekeeping Manager. Isabel,” she pointed to her companion, “is Senior Housekeeper.”
‘Casa del Sol, Ms Gutierrez, Housekeeping Manager’ read the gold name tag on her black pin-striped jacket. A matching skirt ended in a very professional above-the-knee length. Expensive stockings covered her full legs. Perched on her black, pointed-toe stilettos with five inch heels she stood an impressive six foot one. The tailored suit jacket and white silk shell barely contained her large breasts and her full hips filled out her skirt. Her dark almond shaped eyes were skillfully highlighted and her blond hair, obviously dyed, was pulled into a severe bun. Lupe was a large, voluptuous woman, who exuded power and sensuality, and Larry was in immediate awe, and fear, of her.
Isabel Martinez, at a much shorter five-foot four, was petite and prettier with dark eyes and long black hair braided and worn over one shoulder. But Larry had long ago learned that young girls could possess a mean streak, their cruelty boundless.
Lupe walked around him, pulling on his dress here and there, “A good fit, overall, except here,” she grabbed a handful of loose fabric at Larry’s breasts.
Larry had noted the bra when he took it from the garment bag. It was a 44DD, much larger than the 38 B-cup he usually wore. But his instructions had been to put on those clothes, and a proper sissy-maid obeys without question.

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