This is a strict Femdomme / sissy tale featuring extremely strict discipline and humiliation. If this doesn’t appeal, I suggest you read no further.

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She put her napkin on the table, pushed her plate back then adjusted the knife and fork to line them up, side-by-side. The sign for me to clear the table. I moved in and took the plate and napkin into the kitchen.

I heard her come in behind me.

‘Pour me another wine and then get your meal out of the fridge.’

‘Yes Mistress.’

I opened the fridge and removed the Pinot Gris from the door, casting a quick glance over at my soon-to-be-eaten meal, a sort of brown-orange-cream coloured mush. I may have been hungry — I was on a punishment diet for the week and had only had two pieces of day-old bread and dripping and a glass of prune juice for lunch six hours ago — but it didn’t look any more appetising than it had when I placed it in the fridge at 7am this morning.

She held out her glass and I filled it to where she’d placed her index finger, halfway up, then I returned the bottle and removed the meal.

I held it in my hands waiting for her command.

She opened a draw and removed a dessert spoon, placing it on the benchtop.

She pointed at one corner of the room. ‘Place your dinner on the floor there. Then stand up, lift your dress hem up and pull your panties down.’

I followed her orders.

She removed a small key from the pocket of her cream cardigan and stepped towards me.

‘Time to free your clitty. You’d like that, wouldn’t you sissy?’

‘Oh, I would, I certainly would Mistress. Thank you, thank you so much.’

‘Now now, no gushing, you should know by now I detest sissy gushiness.’

‘I apologise Mistress, it’s just that having the cage off after…’

‘Shoosh. I don’t want an explanation from you. And I certainly don’t need any form of real conversation with you. Sissies do not ‘converse’ with their Mistress. Sissies simply obey. Do I make myself clear?’

I felt stupid. ‘Yes Mistress.’

‘Good.’

She removed the lock on the pink cage and lifted the device from around my clitty.

‘Now keep the hem up and get on your knees, facing me, your backside facing the corner.’

I moved into position.

‘All right, I’m finally gonna allow you to spurt. That should excite you, hey sissy?’

I remembered not to gush, quietly replying ‘Yes Mistress.’

‘You don’t sound terribly excited. Perhaps I should lock you up for another month or two and see if that makes you any hungrier to spurt all your sissy juices out. Hmmm?’

Oh…I grappled with how to respond…

‘Well?’

‘Oh…I..um…thank you Mistress for allowing me to rub my clitty and for letting me spurt for you.’

‘Mmm, not too gushy yet with the right intonation of gratitude. Very good.’

She stepped in front of the bowl and pushed it towards me with one toe.

‘Okay, rub your clitty and spurt onto your dinner. You have one minute.’

I was stunned by what I heard and hesitated for a few seconds, unsure of what to do.

‘You heard me. Rub your clitty and spurt! Within a minute. Any longer and you won’t enjoy the consequences, believe you me. Your time starts now.’

I took a deep breath and looked at the bowl filled with the stone-cold potato, carrot and pumpkin mash, prepared some twelve hours ago and completely devoid of any flavouring.

This was to be my first orgasm since I’d started service with her four weeks ago as her new trainee sissymaid. She’d said to me on my first day that I wasn’t having many orgasms from now on and any I was allowed were never gonna be pleasant. I now knew what she meant. But I didn’t want to let her — or myself — down. I started rubbing.

‘Fifteen seconds.’ My sissy clit rose to its full five inches, finally free of the small cage it had been trapped in for the last month.

‘Thirty seconds. Better hurry. You don’t want to disappoint me.’

Definitely not. I knew — painfully so — she broached no disobedience. I focused on the task in front of me, thinking how much I wanted to please her.

‘Forty-five seconds.’

Oh…my clitty quivered as I frantically tugged and pulled at it.

‘Ten and nine and eight and seven and six and five and…’

My clitty exploded on the count of four, the cum spurting over the meal in thick globs as she continued counting down, my body convulsing in a torrent of relief.

‘And…one and…two and…three…and four.’

‘Mmm, not bad for a first attempt. But it took you an extra four seconds to finish making your sissy mess.’

Oh…

‘Arr…I’m…’ — I swallowed — ‘…but I…’

‘No excuses sissy.’

My mouth dried and I had trouble getting the words out.

‘Sorry Mistress for…arr…taking so long to spurt.’ I blushed.

‘That’s better. But by now you know there are consequences for any indulgent behaviour sissy.’

‘Yes Mistress’ I peeped quietly, keeping my eyes fixed on the bowl.

She circled me slowly, every footstep on the polished floor resonating through the room. She stopped in front of the bowl; I found myself admiring her stockinged legs and pointed shiny black pumps with their 4″ heel.

‘You have ten minutes to eat your dinner. And that means eating every little bit in the bowl. After that make your way to the punishment room and wait for me there, in the position for a visit from Miss Cane.’ That meant skirt up, panties down, legs together, bottom in the air, head down, hands down straight to the floor.

Miss Cane. Her favourite disciplinary ‘companion’, and one she enjoyed inviting around to partake in my punishments all too frequently. I gave a little sigh. ‘Yes Mistress.’

‘Given you started your spurting within the minute you can eat dinner with a spoon tonight. Next time I may not be so generous.’

‘Yes Mistress, thank you Mistress.’

She bent down and placed the dessert spoon into the bowl, right on top of the largest dollop of cum.

She stood back up. I was never permitted to eat until given permission. I awaited her command, a mix of emotions coursing through me. I’d never eaten cum before…but I was hungry, very hungry. And tired after a long day of domestic duties.

‘And…begin.’

I picked up the spoon gingerly, shutting my thoughts off to what was about to go in my mouth…