No Fidgeting Permitted

'Mincing steps, sissy, mincing steps, always mincing steps.'

I put the tray down on the table beside her.

'Yes Ma'am, sorry Ma'am.'

'I don't want to tell you again. Otherwise...well, you know the consequences, don't you?'

'Yes Ma'am, I do. Again, I'm very sorry I forgot my proper, mincing sissy-step.'

'A month is more than enough time for you to have learned to walk properly, like a proper sissy. All right, get back to your ironing.'

'Yes Ma'am.' I curtseyed, turned and minced my way out of the room.

I finished the ironing pile two hours later and was folding the last of the cotton sheets when the bell above my head tinkled loudly. I looked up at the array of bells to check which room it was being rung from: Mistress' study.

Whenever a bell rings, I must immediately cease whatever it is I'm doing and make my way quickly to whether I'm being called to. I put the sheets down neatly and made my way up the stairs and to the door of her study. It's one of the rooms where I must always knock before entering. I knocked.

'You may enter.'

I walked in and curtseyed, then stood at attention, arms straight down my sides, head up, eyes lowered, legs and feet together, awaiting her command. She had her back to me, three computer screens in front of her: I knew by now I could be standing here for any length of time before she deigned to say anything to me.

Perhaps five minutes passed before Mistress turned her chair around and spoke.

'I've been looking closely at my internal house cameras. They are so, so incredibly useful. Come over here.' She spun her chair back to face the screens. She pressed a key on the keyboard as I took up a position on her right.

Up came an image of myself ironing, date stamped and with the time showing it was from ninety minutes ago.

The image played for two minutes, in which time I watched myself move between the ironing board and the pile of clothing in one corner of the room. Mistress stopped the video and forwarded it another few minutes on. Another scene of me moving between the ironing board and clothes pile. Another forwarding of the tape, stopping at a point where I carried one of Mistress' blouses across to the portable clothes hanger.

'Tell me what's wrong with these images.'

Oh God...I really wasn't sure...I know I'd remembered to maintain 'mincing sissy steps'...

'I...arr..um..' Maybe it was the ironing method. Or the way I hung the blouse?

'I...the blouse...I didn't hanging it...'

She looked at me, raising her hand to silence me and shaking her head at the same time.

'I know you're a sissy but are you that blind to the bleeding obvious?'

I blushed, swallowed nervously, and shuffled my feet a little, feeling exceedingly awkward and vulnerable. This isn't sounding good...

'Well?'

I had no idea what I'd done wrong, only that whatever it was, it was probably going to lead to another of her very painful lessons.

Honesty was, of course, the only sensible approach: 'I'm sorry Ma'am, I'm not sure what I've done wrong.'

'You're not sure! That's not good, not good at all. I've told you several times over the last month that the best approach you can take to learning to be a proper sissy is to develop a 'being-in-the-moment' mindset. Have I not?'

She had indeed. 'All the better to account for one's every action, movement and thoughts,' she'd said to me the first time she introduced the concept to me. Followed by: 'And to focus your very being on doing everything the way I expect it to be done.'

'Yes, Ma'am, you have. I'm sorry.'

'Sorry! You don't even know what you've done wrong and you're telling me your sorry!' This was getting more and more uncomfortable...

She stood up, throwing her arms in the air. 'I've a good mind to simply give up on you, turf you out onto the street. Is that what you want?'

Oh no, no, absolutely not -- these past four weeks may have been exceedingly tough but I felt I was finally making headway, finally finding my true calling, my destiny.

'Oh no, please no Ma'am...I...I don't want you to give up on me yet. Please no!'

She took a deep breath and went behind me, walking backwards and forwards across the room. All I could do was stare at the continual flow of the images on the monitor. And then it struck me, causing me to blush again.

'Ma'am, I just realised what it is that I've been doing wrong.'

I heard her stop moving. 'A-ha! Houston, we have lift-off!'

I swallowed before bowing my head and meekly, humbly, saying my apology.

'I am so very sorry for fidgeting with my chastity cage while ironing, Ma'am.'

'So you should be.'

I waited for her to speak, certain that anything I said would be inadequate.

She moved to within a metre of me, 'Rule Eleven. What is it?'

I inhaled deeply and began. 'Rule Eleven. The sissy is not permitted to touch or adjust their chastity cage or any similar devices at any time, without the express permission of Mistress. The only exception is when the sissy is making use of the lavatory or bath facilities or similar, in which case any contact must be to the minimum extent necessary to perform body-function tasks.'

'So you can recite the rule perfectly but you can't remember what it actually means. I don't know, I just don't know...mmmm...'

I dared not say anything.

'As you well know by now sissy, rule infractions are never acceptable. And this is one of the twenty 'Golden Rules'. You know what that means.'

I did. Not good.

'I counted you fondling seventeen times with your cage over an hour. Seventeen!'

She paused for effect. My mind was doing the maths but she beat me to the answer. 'So that's 170 strokes. Of the cane, tawse, hairbrush...or whatever else I decide I want to use.'

My body gave an involuntary shudder; my lip began to quiver.

'Turn around.' I obeyed instantly.

'Sissies are expected to be obedient and submissive at all times, not when it suits them. Especially when Mistress is not in the room directly supervising them. Anything less than total obedience and submission is not acceptable. You know this by now, surely?'

My eyes teared up and through a broken, quiet croak, I answered. 'Yes, Ma'am.'

'You'd be wise to learn this lesson sissy, otherwise I may just double the punishment next time.'

'Yes Ma'am, thank you Ma'am for helping me to become a better sissy for you.'

'A pleasure, sissy, a real pleasure.'

She pulled herself up to her full 1.80m height and smiled. 'Mmm, I think we'll give each of your fidgeting hands twenty-five strokes of the tawse, the rest delivered on your rear and thighs with my whippy baton and crop. That should help impart the lesson and focus your teeny-weeny sissy mind from this point on.'

Her words hung in the air weightily, enveloping my mind with heavy dread. That baton...so thin, flexible, sharp and painful...

'Follow me to the Punishment Room.' She turned and walked through the doorway. I shuffled quickly into position behind her. 'They'd better be mincing sissy steps...' she said over her shoulder. 'Yes Ma'am they are, they are, I promise...'