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began to feel comfortable as her servant like it was only right that I'd wait on her and make her comfortable. I began to see her as my social superior I guess.

Neither Cindy or I had much of a family life, and I think this made us feel closer. I knew I felt a little alone in the world, and I often sensed she felt the same. Although our relationship was that of employer and employee, I think our presence in each other's lives still comforted us.

The other reason she was so successful in training me was her air of complete self-assurance. In her mind, I was her servant almost from the day we'd met I just needed specific training as her maid. While others might look at such an odd "experiment" as impossible, she always assumed success. Of course I would curtsy to her, of course I would wear a proper uniform, of course I would learn how to do her laundry. And, inevitably, her thoughts on these matters became mine as well.

During my training, the intense sexual frustration of the first few weeks began to slowly become more manageable. At first, seeing myself in Cindy's soft clothes and her exposed body was driving me nuts. I began to like the feel of satin and the little sensual thrills the luxurious accoutrements around me. This made my job as Miss Cindy's personal maid easier of course, but it scared me, too, since I didn't understand it. Why would putting on a lacy brassiere worn by Cindy for the day be so enticing?

Little did I know that Cindy was the cause of this confusion in me as well. She had secretly insured the success of her outrageous plan right from the start by giving me take female hormones. She had doses of them added to the daily vitamins she offered me each morning. I was so naive at the time, I never even suspected it.

Sharie's idea, the special hormone mix served to soften my skin, round me out and help lower my sex drive. And it also served to soften my already-waning resolve. I became even more passive than I had been, and I began to use a rather submissive tone when speaking to her.

I began to fear that perhaps I was becoming a little sissy sexually, too. More and more I was able to see her amazing body, and even help her dress, without getting excited. My disheartening failure to spark Cindy's desire when I'd met her had started my doubts; my new position as her servant and the little vitamins" I was taking only made matters worse.

And Cindy wasn't much help, since she was always encouraging me to be more feminine and submissive. She'd

MAID IN FORM "A" 25 praise me sweetly whenever I was particularly obedient or girlish, and I basked in her praise like it was sunlight.

As I helped her slip into a fitted skirt, she'd say, "I bet this skirt will look good on you too.

It was strange, but secretly I was beginning to actually enjoy wearing the cute, feminine uniforms and trying on her things. Cindy had sent all my other clothes to charity when I'd moved in, briskly handing me a check in payment. She announced I'd be getting all new clothes. At least this gave me the ability to rationalize that I didn't really have any choice in what I wore.

At night I just slept naked at first. Miss Cindy kept bringing home pretty nighties or satin tap pants and camisoles and things for me. She'd place them on my dresser for me to put away and would mention that she thought I'd look cute in them and told me how nice they'd feel against my skin. Many times she'd give me her old (barely used) nightgowns and lingerie. She got tired of things quickly and had an unlimited clothing allowance.

She came into my room early one day to wake me and caught me sleeping in a satin nightgown she'd given me. (There was no lock on my door.) I'd gotten cold in the middle of the night and had sleepily slipped it on. She smiled and said, "I knew you'd like that silky one. You look cute in it!” Then she smacked my bottom, sending me to the kitchen to start breakfast, adding, "Leave it on. . .I want to see you cook breakfast in it." After that, I started sleeping in something silky and pretty every night. At least it was something to do as I looked forward to my lonely little bed night after night.

She always complimented me on how nice I looked in my uniforms, noting how my tight apron defined my waist, or how sexy my shaved and lotioned legs looked in stockings and heels. After awhile I didn't really mind all the feminine clothes, but I always told Miss Cindy that I hated them and did it only for her. Nightly, as I removed my dress, I looked at myself in the mirror. Seeing my slip clad figure with the lacy bunching at my padded bosom gave me a sensualistic delight. Frivolous tasks such as slipping the slip's wide satin straps off my shoulders gave me heartfelt chills. The silk lining of my uniform's skirt could send a wave of pleasure down the back of my smooth nyloned legs. I couldn't resist the sensations.

AFTER I FINISHED SCRUBBING THE FLOORS, I TOOK A BREAK.