DOING THINGS PROPERLY
by sissysoft


‘Right, time to go to your bathroom and remove all body hair, from the neck down. Not the slightest hint of a hair is to be left. Understood?’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’ I’d been in her company barely an hour but already I was getting used to using ‘Ma’am’, her preferred way for me to address her.

‘You’ll quickly learn to take pride in always presenting a smooth, absolutely hairless body. For yourself as a sissy, but mostly for me. I expect it.’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

‘It means close attention to detail, always doing your hair removal properly.’

I swallowed, my mouth a little dry, before answering. ‘Yes Ma’am.’

‘You have exactly forty-five minutes. I’m being very generous today given it’s the first time you’ve ever removed your unsightly hair. No doubt you have plenty to remove.’

‘Yes Ma’am, I do. Thank you, Ma’am, thank you very much.’

‘Off you go. Sissies mustn’t hesitate.’ She waved her hand at me, shooing me away.

I turned to go. ‘Wait. Give me your watch.’ She reached out her hand.

I handed it to her.

‘You need to carry out all tasks in a timely manner. No dilly-dallying whatsoever. You may as well start practicing being timely.’

‘But how will I…’

She held her hand up. ‘Never, ever, question me.’

Oh! ‘Yes Ma’am, I’m very, very sorry, I won’t do it again.’

‘You’d better not. For your sake.’

She let her words hover in the air before looking at my watch, turning it over. ‘It’s far too masculine for you anyway.’ She put it in the pocket of her camel-coloured cardigan.

She looked at her watch. ‘Go. Your forty-five minutes start now.’

‘Yes Ma’am.’

I was here for three months, a trial to see if I was suitably submissive and met her needs and purposes. If so, I would then move in permanently, which apparently would ‘involve some legal documents and paperwork and such things.’ I had no idea what she was referring to but decided there was no point worrying about those things for now. No, for now it was time to focus, to learn what she wanted and expected.

I quickly headed down the basement stairs to what she had called my room on the house tour though in reality, was little more than a partitioned-off corner, austere in all ways, with everything in flat, greyish tones. The single bed had a small pillow, a flimsy mattress and a couple of worn woollen blankets over it; the only other furniture was a steel chest of draws and a steel-framed clothes hanger. A small, old and rusty, two-bar radiator stood next to the bed. I’d been told to bring nothing but a toiletry bag with me.

The hanger held just seven items, each a maid’s outfit. Three were black and three grey, all of a similar, plain, conservative style, in a weighted drill fabric, full-sleeved, high collared, knee length, with simple off-white lace trim at collar and sleeve. No ‘frou-frou’ French Maid designs here – these looked like they were for nothing but housework, serious housework. The seventh outfit was in the very same design but in a heavy-gauge hessian. I didn’t want to dwell on that particular outfit right at this moment. Three black, plain, lace-up, low heeled shoes were arrayed below the hanger. As for the contents of the draws, I had no idea what was in them as they’d remained unopened on the tour, the only hint of what was inside being her comment that I’d find everything I needed for proper dressing, in them. I didn’t have time to study the contents for now.

I was to stay in the basement for at least the first month and if I behaved and showed promise, I would then move to a room upstairs, behind the kitchen. The one behind the pink door, the door she didn’t open on the tour, though I was given some idea of what to expect in there. ‘It’s perfect for a sissy. So much pink! In fact, just about everything in there is in pink, in lots of different shades, from fuchsia to strawberry to salmon pink - and every pink in between.’ I had no idea how these plain maid’s outfits related to this pink theme she had painted.

The space here had a distinct chill about it and the stark, bare light was harsh; I looked over at the ‘bathroom’, occupying one corner diagonally opposite the bed. A small hand basin was crammed next to the toilet, a toilet without a seat. Next to it was a small, open, shower recess, without a shower curtain around it. On the floor, directly below the shower head was a large, metal tub. A shower and a ‘bath’…of sorts.

I ran the shower to fill the tub - to my dismay the water was barely tepid. From my toiletry bag I removed a razor, brush and shaving cream and put them on the tiles, stripped, took a deep breath and got in the tub, thinking about how I was to do the task. ‘Funny, she’s left me to figure out what to do. Never done this before even though she wants me to do it properly.’

I started with my legs and once done, ran my hands down them to check they were smooth. Seemed like it. Then I moved onto removing my dark pubic mass, squatting in the water to do so. It was awkward and difficult and seemed to take ages; I cut myself a few times though eventually managed to do it. Then my belly and chest, and onto my underarms.

I had done my right arm and had just the lower part of my left forearm to go when her voice came out over a loudspeaker above the bed, startling me. ‘Stop what you are doing.’ I instantly obeyed. ‘Stand - put your hands on your head.’

I stood up in the tub, wondering if there was a camera in here too? I shivered a little, what with her commanding tone and all it implied, the cool room temperature and the growing cold of the water enveloping my feet and legs. I stood like this for what seemed ages but was probably only a few minutes, before hearing the door to the basement open, followed by her footsteps coming down the stairs, slowly, steadily, deliberately. I glanced down at my shrunken, bare, willy, wishing I had something - anything - to cover it with.

She walked through the partition and turned to face me, stopping a metre or so in front of my nakedness. I took in her angular features, her face framed by her in-curving, mid-length light red bob and blunt, mid-brow fringe, her long neck accentuated by the rich red mock-turtleneck she wore. Her piercing blue eyes shone intensely, transfixing me.

‘I told you earlier I expect your eyes to be lowered when I’m addressing you.’ Oh yes, of course. I had forgotten, completely distracted by her air, looks and the situation I found myself in. She slapped my face, not particularly hard, but enough to shock me. I instantly obeyed her. Or thought I did. She placed a firm finger under my chin and tilted my head up. ‘I said eyes lowered, not your head.’

‘Yes Ma’am’ I answered with a croaky dry voice.

‘When I give you a directive it’s to be followed, until, and unless, I say otherwise. I don’t like repeating myself - you had best remember that.’

I felt stupid - part of me wanted to melt away, hide. ‘Yes Ma’am, I’m sorry for forgetting your earlier directive.’
‘I’m sure a few days in a posture collar will help you focus on keeping your head up, eyes down. Yes, starting tomorrow morning, until Sunday evening.’

‘Yes Ma’am.’

She held a crop in her hand and casually brought it up to my cock, toying with it. ‘You’d said your sissy clit wasn’t that big but I didn’t realise it was that small!’ She laughed. I blushed. I’m sure the cold wasn’t helping matters, but what could I say?

‘But enough about teensy-weensy sissy clitties for now…there’ll be plenty of time for me to get acquainted with its inadequacies.’ She chuckled, turned and placed the crop on the bed.

‘Time to have a close look at your shaving efforts. Step out of the tub.’ I obeyed.

She removed a sharpy from a pocket of her cardigan and, to my amazement, a folding magnifying glass.
She turned the shower on. ‘Under. Wash off any loose hairs. You have one minute.’

I quickly got to work, washing away the hairs from my chest, arms, groin, legs and backside, all the while avoiding her gaze but feeling intensely self-conscious with her standing there, looking over my naked body. I stepped away from the shower.

She passed a small towel to me. ‘Dry yourself, quick-smart.’

I did so.

‘Hands on head.’ She stepped closer and began looking over my body with the magnifier.

Her comments began almost immediately. ‘You missed one.’ ‘Another’. ‘And several here.’ ‘Tsk, tsk’. Each time she would circle the offending hair with the red sharpy. And then she flicked my …um…clitty…with her nails. ‘Stretch the little thing out.’ I did so. She bent down and peered in closely, lifting the balls up and back, stretching the skin.

‘Unbelievable…did you actually shave your clitty region?’

Huh? ‘Umm, yes, Ma’am, of course.’

‘Don’t ever “of course” me, sissy’.

‘Oh...um…sorry Ma’am, I’m sorry! I meant…’

‘Shoosh!’

‘Show such uppity behaviour again and you’ll be punished severely, I promise you.’

She got the sharpy and drew several circles over each other, around my…umm…sissy clitty and…umm...sissy ovaries?

She looked closely at my underarms. No sharpy this time – phew, I had got something right.

She scrutinised my nipples, drew circles over both and then squeezed the right one hard. ‘A lousy job, sissy.’
‘Arms.’

I held them out. The red sharpy went to work around my unshaved arm and several missed hairs on my fingers and upper arms.

‘Turn around. Bend over. Arms straight down to the floor.’ I did so.

She spread my cheeks and bent down to get a closer look at my hole.

‘Your rosebud is disgustingly bushy. It is not a rose bush, sissy.’ She drew an arrow on my left cheek, its head pointing at my hole.

I dared not move as she went across to the bed and picked up the crop.

‘I have no tolerance for sloppiness.’ And with that, the crop landed hard across my rear. I yelped, shocked by its firm delivery.


Thwack-thwack!

Thwack-thwack-thwack!

I cried out again.

‘Oh, for goodness sake, stop being such a drama queen. Believe me, this is just a taster of what you can expect whenever you prove lazy or disobedient.’

Another thwack.

‘Up.’

She ran one hand across my back. ‘Your back is completely untouched.’

She drew a giant X across my back. ‘I’m not impressed. No doubt you’d have struggled to reach all parts of your back but at least you could have made some sort of effort. Any effort.’

‘I ran out of time, Ma’am.’

She turned me around slowly. I could feel her eyes boring into me. ‘I don’t remember asking you for a reason,’ she said firmly. ‘And I certainly don’t like excuses. At any time.’

I swallowed nervously, before quietly answering, ‘Yes Ma’am, sorry Ma’am’.

‘You will be soon enough.’ She drew herself up to her full 1.82 metres, a good half a head taller than me.

‘I gave you a very simple instruction to remove all body hair from the neck down, did I not?

‘Yes Ma’am.’

‘Indeed. Not a complicated directive.’ She took hold of my left ear, twisted it and pulled my head down. I yelped again.

‘Can you see those hairs on your knee?’

I could, peeking out from inside a couple of her red circles. I was amazed that I’d missed them.

She bent my ear lower. ‘Can you see those hairs on your toes, and the back of your calf?’

Her grip on my ear was hurting terribly but I managed to blurt out, ‘Yes Ma’am.’

She lifted my head to my groin, twisting the ear tightly. ‘You see those ones, hmmm?’

I could not believe it - I’d missed so many. And left plenty of half cut hair over my shaft, balls and scrotum.

‘Yes Ma’am. Sorry, Ma’am.’

‘You keep saying that. You’ll soon learn the real meaning of sorry, not this ersatz self-centred version you’re presently fixated on.’

She lifted my head back up, still holding my ear and squeezing it hard. I grimaced - it hurt.

‘I told you to remove all your body hair properly, did I not?

‘Yes Ma’am.’

She took her hand away from my ear; I was so relieved.

‘You are about to learn how I train sissies to do tasks properly. In every way, and every time. Have you ever had pubic hair removed with tweezers, sissy?’

I closed my eyes and took in a slow breath. ‘No, Ma’am.’

‘Have you ever had hair removed with hot wax, sissy?’

I exhaled. ‘No Ma’am.’

‘Have you ever been figged up your rose bud or had hot chillies applied to your clitty regions, sissy?’
I shook my head, dreading the image her words were painting. ‘No Ma’am.’

‘Excellent. I’m about to introduce you to these and other methods to help train you to remove all your body hair properly. You do want to learn to remove all your body hair properly, don’t you sissy?’

‘Yes Ma’am’, I answered resignedly.

‘Come, come, sissy, I expect more enthusiasm than that!’

‘Yes Ma’am!’ I blurted out.

‘Say after me: Please Ma’am, please train me to remove all my body hair properly.’

I repeated her words.

‘Good. I can assure you I will train you properly to remove all your body hair.’ She laughed.

‘Yes…every one of those red circles requires a firm response. And that X and that arrow…well, you’ll soon understand the meaning of doing things properly.’

The cropped tapped lightly on my…ummm…sissy clit. Not a term I was quite used to yet.

‘And you failed miserably to finish the task in the allotted time, a time I might add, that was very generous. So you leave me with little choice but to show you the implications of not being timely.’

‘Yes Ma’am’ I answered quietly.

‘Follow me. Hands on head and walk on tippy-toes.’

She turned and began making her way up the stairs. I followed a few steps behind, awkwardly, taking in her steady stride, the crop she held by the left side of her reddish-brown leather pants, the firm clack-clack of her heels echoing through the room. My thoughts were a tumble of emotions, but I calmed myself down somewhat with thoughts that the life I had craved and desired for so long had really, finally, arrived. I hoped I was ready. Properly ready.

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