Having opened the Amazon box, Jules could see the White legend clearly embedded on the pink hardened plastic still covered in the cellophane wrap.
In clear, large letters, it read: “Naughty Girl’s Step”.
Oh no! It would be so unfair to make his wife, Marianne stand on a naughty girl’s step. She would die of shame.
Patting his palms on the cardboard box, Jules straightened up, feeling his maid’s corset grip his waist.
“Are you sure?” he asked the Bull with wide, apprehensive eyes.
“I’m sure. Now be a good girl,” Damon said easily, “and unwrap your present and place it on the floor in front of the sofa.
With a regretful look at his intrigued wife, Jules snapped the cellophane apart before pulling out the plastic board, which he could now see was heavily folded.
“Unfold it,” Damon said, “and stand it up.”
Marianne giggled as soon as she saw the words on the top of the long board: “Naughty Girl’s Step”.
“Now be a good maid and tidy up the mess.” Damon said, “Take it to the recycling area of the utility room.”
With a hard rock in his tummy, Jules obeyed. He was determined not to allow the Bull to torment his wife by making her stand on it.”
He scrunched up the cardboard and crushed the cellophane until he could dispose of them in the correct boxes.
Not having pockets on his maid’s dress, the only way he could deal with his nerves was to flatten out the frilly apron over the front of his skirt.
Once he was back in the room, he took a deep breath and bravely challenged the dominant man.
“I have to say, and I hope you don’t mind me pointing this out,” Jules began, with his head slightly bowed but bravely in the direction of Damon, “but we never said anything about punishing my wife.”
Jules stole an expectant glance at Marianne, hoping she’d be impressed by him standing up to the Bull for her benefit.”
Oddly she appeared half amused and half shocked.
“Thank you for you reminding me,” Damon said in his friendly manner.
Before Jules could say, ‘no problem’, Damon placed his hand in the small of the maid’s back and guided him forward towards the garish pink, plastic step.
Damon said, “just step up on it.” Seeing the shock on the sissy’s face he lowered his voice to add, confidentially, “Let’s just test it shall we?”
In a haze of shock, and not quite knowing how to refuse, Jules felt the large hand press into the small of his back. In his precarious heels Jules warily stepped up onto the pink object. It was surprisingly firm. He thought his heels might push through the flimsy looking surface.
He smiled at the Bull, awaiting the instruction to get down.
“There,” Damon announced. “That wasn’t too hard, was it?”
“W-w-w-well, , er, no,” Jules said hoarsely.
“Do you know what a naughty girl’s step is for?” Damon asked.
Hules looked quizzical, “Well, yes, erm. I think so.”
All that was in Jules’ mind was to get back onto terra firma. He needed to get off this box. He felt ridiculous raised up a foot taller, as if he was on display. He was actually looking down on Damon now.
Jules pressed down the edges of his short skirt self-consciously. He hated how it flared out now he was up when elevated higher than everyone else in the room. He was totally on display, like a mannequin.
Damon settled back on the arm of the chair next to Marianne. “Remind us the purpose of a naughty girl’s step?”
Clearing his throat, and feeling his cheeks blush hot pink, Jules held his breath and said, “well if a child is naughty, then it is sent to the,” he struggled to say the word naughty, feeling absolute shame, “naughty step.”
“Excellent. Clever girl!” Damon pronounced.
Jules beamed. “Thank you.”
“Why is it useful maid?”
“I, erm, well. As punishment, I suppose,” an uncertain Jules said.
“Very close. Well done, maid.”
Feeling less positive, Jules smiled and nodded, no longer able to meet the eyes of his wife. How ridiculous must he look, stood up on the naughty girl’s step?
Damon continued, speaking softly. “It is an excellent alternative to corporal punishment. You don’t wish to be whipped with a cane or a crop when you’re errant. Do you?”
“Well. No. I guess not.”
“No. I used the crop on you yesterday and the day before. You told me how you hated it,” Damon continued as if speaking to a child.
“Well, of course. It really stung!”
Damon nodded his understanding with a smile. “Of course it did. Though that is what you agreed to when we discussed this plan wasn’t it? You said don’t be afraid of corporal punishment.”
How silly was Damon being! Jules felt so aggrieved he blurted out, “How could I know it would hurt like that! When Marianne does it, it is fine. It hurts, but not as bad as that. And I really think you beat too hard. I mean honestly …”
“Hush, maid,” Damon said. “Shhh.”
Jules nodded and fell silent.
“Importantly that’s what we agreed, and do you remember you said, ‘please don’t let me back out of this at any time’?”
“Yes,” murmured Jules looking down at the carpet, which appeared far below.
In the heat of the moment, Jules can say and do anything. For him, arousal whips away any level of discernment.
Damon gently reminded Jules, “You said that I was to ensure you behaved as a perfect maid and you actually suggested using a crop. You also said I could use a cane or a paddle. In fact, whatever I deemed fit.”
This was preposterous.
Jules said, “If I may say. I didn’t know it hurt like that. I told you that. Can I get down now?”
“Not yet maid,” Damon said. “The agreement was that the maid should do as she is told. You have been told to stand on the naughty girl’s step. So what should you do?”
It was as if all the shame in the universe was being dragged from Jules’ soul and layered around him for all to see. He actually felt like crying.
His eyes grew large, pleading with the Bull not to have to answer his question.
Gently patting the maid’s bottom with the crop, Damon said, “Aw, sorry maid. Now I have said it, you have to do it. If you’ve been told to stand on the naughty girl’s step, what should you do?”
Oh God! Not in front of his wife. Not like this!
Jules mumbled, “I should stand on the step.”
“Sorry maid. A little more clearly please.”
Jules stole a glance at his wife, who must surely have been as mortified as him at what the Bull was doing to her husband.
She appeared shocked, but inquisitive. As if engrossed in the actions before her.
Clearing his throat, Jules said, “If I’ve been told to stand on the step, then I should stand on the step.”
“Hmmm,” Damon was clearly unsatisfied. “Sorry maid. I know it’s difficult for you.” By leaning down he put his arm around Marianne’s shoulders. “We both feel for you right now. Don’t we slut?”
Oh! How Jules hated the brute referring to his wife as a slut. She was anything but! Innocent and so nice and pure. She wouldn’t ever suck Jules’ cock for example, saying she was not that sort of girl.
However, this didn’t seem the right time to call Damon out on his rude reference.
Marianne for her part, snuggled into the arms of the Bull and kissed his cheek.
She said, “Yes, we do, maid. I feel really sorry for you, maid.”
“Thank you,” Jules said, shifting his heels on the small space of the pink plastic board, raised from the ground.
“I know,” Damon said helpfully. “Just try again. Forget about acting like a dumb, airhead …”
A Dumb, airhead! Jules pouted. He wasn’t! A s nice as Damon was, he could sometimes say very cruel things. Damon’s consideration was the reason that Jules and Marianne had selected him for the two week experiment.
“So once more,” the Bull tolerantly persisted, “If a maid is sent to the naughty girl’s step, what should she do?”
Now Jules felt sick. His head swirled with nausea. “The maid should go to the naughty girl’s step,” he muttered.
“Excellent,” Damon, announced. “Now be a good girl and say it louder.”
Licking his dry lips, Jules said, “The maid should go to the naughty girl’s step.”
Damon squeezed Marianne. “You see. She can learn things. Not so dumb after all.”
All Jules wanted in the entire world was to be allowed to step down from this infernal punishment step. He would do or say anything.
Worse, with so little room to manoeuvre on the step, it was difficult to lighten the load on each high heeled foot.
Damon rose from the arm of the chair and stood to the side of Jules, who swallowed with nerves.
“Now be a good girl and pull down your panties to your knees.”
A shocked Jules gasped. “Sorry?”
Closing his eyes with patience, Damon said, “Be a good girl and pull down your panties down to your knees.”
Jules took in his wife for her reaction. She was simply engrossed.
As if pulled by puppet strings, Jules fingers slid beneath his short skit and took hold of the side of his frilly, pink panties. Why was he obeying? Already he was gently, inch by inch, pulling them down over his suspenders, and then down over the stocking tops. The panties caught for a moment in the suspender catch but then sprang free until they were close to his knees.
No maid feels more vulnerable than when her panties are no longer covering her private parts beneath her flared skirt.
“Good girl,” Damon said breezily. “Now take hold of the back of your skirt and lift it up.”
About to protest, the frightened maid looked across at the hulk of a Bull but then couldn’t think of any words of protest. He took hold of the hem of the rear of the skirt and raised it, feeling his bottom becoming more and more exposed.
“Excellent. Well done,” Damon said. “Don’t you think so, slut?”
Marianne coughed and said ‘yes’ from the back of her throat.
Jules winced. There was the ‘slut’ word again, but this was certainly no time to remonstrate.
Oh! Jules felt the crop gently tapping on his uncovered cheeks. Not painful, like some of the beatings Damon had dished out over the last two days, but certainly hard enough to make Jules squeal, “Oooh”
The Bull maintained his unruffled voice, as if chatting in a quiet office, “Now then, should a maid raise her voice at the Mistress of the house?”
Jules’ own voice was now timorous and shaking. “Well, no. Nor would I usually. But I can’t be shown off to my wife’s friends. That’s not …”
The crop’s slap was slightly firmer, sufficient to stop the maid jabbering.
“So, quite right maid. No matter how upset you are, a maid should never raise her voice to her Mistress.”
All of a sudden that entirely made sense to Jules.
“Yes. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
“Well, that is good to hear. And a promise too. I will hold you to that promise, maid.”
The words were spoken matter of factly. There was no notion of a threat to be detected in his tone, yet Jules swallowed, knowing that Damon was the sort of guy who was true to his word and would hold him to that promise.
“Now maid, you were so over excited that you bad mouthed your Mistress’s friends, didn’t you?”
Oh no! Damon didn’t know how cruel Venessa is. And Angela is always mouthy. Whenever they are around, they bullied Jules so much that he hid in his office. Even there he feared they might burst in and tease him. The thought of being presented to them as a maid was sickening.
“Well, I may have done,” Jules said, trying a winning smile. “But you don’t know what they are like and then they …”
Two harder slaps on the bottom.
“They are friends of your Mistress, aren’t they?”
“W-w-w well, I suppose so.”
“You suppose!” Damon was surprised.
“Well, yes, they are her friends. I promise I won’t say negative things about them again.”
“Excellent,” Damon announced. “Slut? Do you see how we are getting somewhere with your maid?”
Marianne giggled, “You are an excellent teacher, Sir.”
Jules closed his eyes, how he wished to climb down from the step and recover some level of dignity.
Damon continued, “Which brings me to the maid not addressing her Mistress appropriately.”
Eh? Jules was shocked. “I don’t understand.”
“You said that you wanted to call your Mistress by her title of Mistress. Remember our discussions last week?”
Oh! Jules groaned. Yes, he had!
“Ah. Yes. I understand. I did. I am sorry.”
Damon nodded with sympathy. “And address me as Sir. You also agreed to that.”
Jules eyes flickered with fear. How had he forgotten?
“Oh yes, Sir.”
“Excellent! I do feel as if we are getting somewhere,” Damon said with pride. “You know Slut, they say that maids are dumb airheads, but do you see how quickly our maid is learning?”
Marianne laughed, “Oh Sir. You are cruel.”
“So then,” Damon said slowly as if thinking through his plans, “let us say six spanks for raising your voice. Six for bad mouthing your Mistress’ friends.”
Jules was shaken. That was twelve!
“But, Sir, I did promise not to …”
Again, the firm pat from the crop stopped the maid in her tracks.
“You did, like the good girl I know you can be when you try extra hard. But sadly, you didn’t, did you?”
Jules looked to his wife for support.
Marianne said, “Perhaps the maid has learnt her lesson, Sir.”
Jules felt his shoulders sag with relief. He closed his eyes with hope. He would be down from the step in seconds!
“I think you are right, Slut. But you know what, a little spanking never hurts. Helps a child or a maid remember why it is being punished.”
“Sir,” Jules said breathily, “I honestly promise not to be naughty again. Really. Truly. Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Did he really say such a childish thing? Was he truly so desperate?
“Well maid. If your naughtiness ended there, then perhaps I might agree.”
“Oh?” Jules remained standing, holding up his skirt from his bare bottom. What on earth did the Bull mean?
“Didn’t you argue when I sent you down to the car to fetch your present?”
Oh no! Why hadn’t Jules just followed the instructions. With his eyes awash with tears the sissy looked to the Bull.
“Please Sir, I promise I won’t do any of those things again. Really.”
For a long while Damon studied the fearful maid and finally, nodded with a warm smile.
“Maid,” he said, “I think I have an answer to your dilemma. Listen carefully.”