Maiddad

Note: All characters are at least 18 years old. If a story about a masochistic man being rather brutally cuckolded and emasculated and becoming a sissified maid to his own family is not your cup of tea, please read no further. If you are incapable of suspending your disbelief and/or feel the need to constantly project what YOU would do in similar circumstances to what the protagonist is experiencing, please read no further. Otherwise, please enjoy! Constructive feedback is always appreciated.

"I can't believe that's your dad," said my daughter's friend, Kelly, to my daughter, Chloe, at Chloe's 19th birthday party (and my coming out party, so to speak), taking place poolside in what had once been my backyard.

Both young women were clad in skimpy bikinis, reclining on deck chairs, sipping the soft drinks I had just served them. Technically, I guess, Chloe was my stepdaughter, and her brother, Alex, one year older, was my stepson. But if didn't feel that way. My wife, Susan, married me when Alex was two and Chloe was one, right after Susan's first deadbeat husband walked out on his family and never returned. In retrospect, I guess Susan married me for solely my money, as she was (and remains) totally out of my league. In any event, I raised these kids, changing their diapers, feeding them and cleaning up after them, often while Susan was out partying. That makes my relationship with them today all the more shameful. Today I am 44 and Susan is 39.

I stood at attention a few feet away, sweating in my formal black maid's uniform, looking down at Chloe's and her friend's pretty, pedicured feet. My stocking clad legs were pressed together, as instructed, as I awaited any other demands from the dozen or so affluent high school seniors who were celebrating Chloe's birthday. My wife, Susan, and her 29 year-old boyfriend, Chad -- my lord and master -- sat across the large patio outside of my wife's palatial home, laughing loudly with my son, Alex, aged 20. The skirt of my uniform was fairly short, but fortunately hid my chastity cage. My feet were sore from scurrying around in my heels all afternoon in the 90° heat, fetching drinks and serving the hors d'oeuvres I had painstakingly prepared that morning.

"He always did seem like kind of a wimp. But how did he become your family's maid? Is he a fag or something?" asked Kelly, looking at me with contempt. "Look, the perv is staring at our toes!"

This was unfair, because while I was staring at their feet, I am instructed to look down in the presence of my betters -- which is practically everyone. I also, of course, have to be constantly attentive to the needs of anyone requiring my service. It's a delicate balance, one that has gotten me into trouble on more than one occasion, my best efforts notwithstanding.

"Maid, you better not be perving on us, or I will tell Chad," said Chloe, as she stretched out her feet, wiggling her toes.

"Please don't tell Master Chad, Chloe," I implored.

"What did you just call me?" Chloe demanded angrily.

"My deepest apologies! I mean, please Miss Chloe, please don't say anything to Master Chad. I promise I wasn't staring at your or Miss Kelly's feet," I said, with a deep curtsy.

"I can't believe this," said Kelly.

"Why don't you kneel down and give Miss Kelly a foot massage, maid, and perhaps we will overlook your insolence," said Chloe with a sneer. I lowered my knees onto the hard paving stones, careful not to ladder my seamed sheer stockings -- which I knew could result in punishment -- and knelt at the feet of this bratty young woman who I had known since she was eight. As I began to strenuously massage the heel and insole of her right foot, I felt my cock throb involuntarily in its prison.

"I don't know if he is completely gay, but he definitely has some faggy tendencies," Chloe explained to Kelly as if I was not present. "I saw him get hard in his pantyhose the first time Chad whipped him with his belt in the family room. So gross. That's when mom suggested they get a cage for his little cock. But I know he is attracted to women, especially our feet. Mom said that he is really just a humiliation junkie, someone who is really only true to himself when serving others and being emasculated. So, you see, we're really doing him a favor," she snickered. "I think he is really just a pathetic loser. But it's nice to have a maid around 24/7. Also, it's pretty hot watching Chad punish him."

"It's pretty hot watching Chad do anything," Kelly giggled. "What about Alex? Does your hunky brother ever punish your dad, I mean the maid? Other foot, maid."

"Yes, Miss Kelly, of course." Chloe's words stung, because while it's true that I get off on humiliation, never in a million years did I expect it to consume my entire life and go from the realm of fantasy to my daily reality. Never in a million years did I believe that I would be reduced to being my family's maid and an object of ridicule in the community.

As I worked on Kelly's feet, I reflected on how I had gotten to this point. When I met Susan after her husband left her, I was so enchanted by her that I asked her to marry me after a brief courtship, during which we slept together exactly twice.

When I got down on my knees, to propose to her, she said, "I like you down there. Why don't you kiss my foot and beg me to marry you?" Which, of course, I did.

She continued to play hard to get over the coming months. I had inherited quite a large sum of money from my dad when he died (I was an only child), so I owned a large mansion in a wealthy neighborhood in northern New Jersey. I had also inherited my dad's successful manufacturing company, where I was the nominal CEO by my early 20s. Therefore, I had the wherewithal to shower Susan with expensive gifts and promised to provide lifelong economic security for her and her two babies. Susan came from a lower middle-class background. She was college educated, however, and socially ambitious. My friends strongly urged me to insist she sign a prenup. Having been screwed by her former husband who left her and seeing how smitten I was with her -- and picking up on my innately submissive nature -- what ended up happening was that Susan agreed to marry me only after I had promised to sign what was in effect a reverse prenup -- wherein I transferred ownership of my mansion and controlling interest in my company to her. Soon after our honeymoon, she stopped having sex with me, telling me I was too small to satisfy her. Our remaining sex life consisted of me going down on her and worshiping her feet, which I happily did as she was (and still is) a goddess to me. It didn't take long before she started routinely going out evenings and weekends while I stayed at home caring for Alex and Chloe. Don't get me wrong, she loved her kids and maintained a strong emotional connection with them. But she couldn't be bothered with tasks like changing diapers or cleaning the house.

After she suspected our cleaning lady of stealing one of her rings, Susan refused to hire another and said to me, "Why don't you take over responsibility for cleaning the house? You're useless at the factory. Frank does everything."

Frank was my dad's longtime COO of the company who continued to run its day-to-day operations after I inherited it. Chad is Frank's son. He was only a young teenager when Susan and I had the conversation about me assuming responsibility for the household chores. But he grew up quickly. More on that later.

I knew that Susan was sleeping around on me when she was out partying. She even bought a couple of her boyfriends home over the years for BBQs and so forth. They were inevitably muscular, arrogant guys, usually jocks or blue-collar workers who looked upon me with disdain. I actually didn't really mind being a cuckold, however. I had harbored submissive cuckold fantasies ever since being dumped by my high school crush -- I had it bad for that girl -- in favor of an arrogant jerk who was co-captain of our high school football team. I used to fantasize that my crush would let me stick around in her life so long as I did chores for her new boyfriend and paid for their dates.

In any case, as the kids grew up, they grew accustomed to seeing me cleaning the house, often at the direction of their exacting, confident mother, who frequently found fault with my efforts. They saw me give Susan pedicures, fetch her and her girlfriends and boyfriends drinks, serve them dinner, and generally do what I was told without complaint. They heard the bitchy way their mom would talk to me and, more importantly, saw how I would just take it, avoiding eye contact with them. This had an inevitable consequence, I suppose, as over time my kids increasingly began to mimic their mom and order me around too. By the time Alex and Chloe were entering their preteens, they were completely comfortable demanding that I pick up after them and serve snacks and drinks to them and their friends. I had made the mistake (how big a mistake only became clear years later) of disciplining them a couple of times when they were younger -- spanked Alex and grounded Chloe -- but Susan made her disapproval crystal clear by berating me for it in front of them and forbidding me from ever doing it again.

From that point on, my kids had the upper hand. Chloe would insist I give her pedicures like her mom and would giggle as I followed her instructions to blow on her toes to dry the polish. In stark contrast to me, who was always bookish and physically awkward, Alex was a natural athlete who excelled at multiple sports. His athletic prowess fueled his ego, and he quickly lost whatever respect he might've held for me as a child. Alex would come home after games and practices and matter-of-factly tell me (often right in front of Chloe and Susan, who would snicker) to clean his cleats, and even wash his jock strap, It was humiliating being the family lackey, but candidly there was a part of me that craved the abuse; it was a turn on, truth be told. I had even started to wear panties under my khakis as I went about my domestic chores, But keep in mind, I still had a pretty nice life at this stage. I drove a Porsche. I was still a respected member of the community, our country club, etc. and would go into the factory a few days a week and issue a few orders to maintain the pretense that I was in charge.

Then Chad grew up. Working at the factory, he caught Susan's attention. And things started to change for the worse. Much worse. He moved in three years ago, and then things really started to deteriorate for me at a rapid clip.

Bringing us to today, my public coming out as my family's maid at my daughter's birthday party in front of probably two dozen people, Chloe's friends, as well as extended family members, and Susan's and my friends from our neighborhood. Or perhaps I should now refer to the latter as Susan's and Master Chad's friends, and my former friends. The wealthy tend not to be friends with the help. They are incredibly decadent and kinky, however, so by and large are amused by and tolerant of our family's unconventional lifestyle, rather than scandalized by it. I even later learned that I wasn't the only feminized cuckold father in our social circle.

My ministrations on Kelly's feet were interrupted when Chloe's boyfriend, Brian, walked up and said to me, "How's it going Mr. G? That looks relaxing. I could use one of those foot massages myself." Brian, a high school senior like Chloe and Kelly, was a surfer and the star of the high school swim team, and was wearing a blue speedo that afternoon. He was a well toned, blonde haired young man with a sense of humor and a bit of a cruel streak.

Chloe interjected, "Brian, from now on you no longer need to refer to him as Mr. G. 'Maid' will suffice. Maid, massage my boyfriend's feet."

It was clear to me that Chloe was enjoying her power trip, a young beauty, with the world figuratively, and her father literally at her feet.

I hurriedly stood up and said, "Right away, Miss Chloe," curtsying. I fetched another deck chair, pulling it next to Chloe's and Kelly's, and said to Brian, "Please make yourself comfortable, sir. May I remove your sandals, and begin?

I cursed myself for getting a small, but visible run in the stockings on the upper thigh area of my hairless right leg as I knelt on the pavers. Chloe reprimanded me for not first asking Kelly if she was satisfied with her massage and for not curtsying to Brian before beginning his.

"Chad will have to hear about this, maid. And don't think I didn't notice that run in your stockings. You need to put on a fresh pair of stockings immediately after you finish Brian's massage. And you need to learn to be more careful in the future."

I knew with that meant, and also knew that it would be counterproductive to attempt to convince Chloe not to tell Chad about my transgressions. After all, she just confessed that she found it exciting to watch Chad punish me. Could I fall any lower?, I wondered. I had the feeling that I already knew the answer to that foolish, rhetorical question.

As I tended to Brian's feet, my thoughts returned to how I had arrived at my ignominious present position. When Chad started working at the factory in his late teens and early 20s, Susan took notice and started spending more and more time with him. With his confident, somewhat authoritative nature, he quickly moved up at the plant, and eventually replaced Frank when he retired. Susan was captivated by his competence and confidence. Although I believe that she was even more taken with his 6'2" frame, bulging biceps, and ripped abs. Soon they started going out. And then, as I noted, came that fateful day when she asked him to move in.

Our roles were quickly established. The five of us would sit around the TV in the family room, and Chad would tell me to fetch him a beer or a glass of my best single malt scotch. He'd sit next to Susan with his bare feet propped up on the coffee table, and would barely acknowledge me as I brought him his drink, or bowl of nuts or whatever he demanded. Susan was also increasingly short with me and critical of my efforts around the house and at the factory.

Chad would say, "Georgie, you ought to kiss my ass in gratitude for fixing those bottlenecks at the plant." My real name is George Gibbons, but Chad always referred to me as Georgie. He wasn't wrong about his accomplishments at the plant, though, and Susan wouldn't let me forget it. Alex and Chloe observed these dynamics, and would whisper together and smirk at me. They also, of course, observed that Chad and Susan occupied the master bedroom, while I was relegated to a smaller room on a different floor from the rest of the family. Susan would occasionally still allow me to go down at her on some mornings after Chad left for the factory. Repulsed, but craving any intimacy with the woman I worshipped, I'd clean Chad's mess out of her as she pressed down my head and moaned in pleasure.

The kids rapidly lost any remnants of respect for me that they had, watching me behave so obsequiously to a man 15 years my junior, a man usurping my position with Susan, and in our home. It didn't help that they really connected with Chad, seeing him almost more like an older brother than a father figure. It also didn't help that they saw their mom defer to Chad on many subjects.

But the big turning point came one Saturday afternoon, shortly after Chloe turned 18. I was locked in my office, ostensibly doing paperwork for the factory, but in fact, beating off. As was my usual practice, I was lying on the couch in my locked office, naked, but for a pair of pink tights I had taken from Susan's dresser and the nipple clamps I was wearing on my sensitive nipples. I was reading Reality Too, one of my favorite stories on Fictionmania on my iPad. I then received a call on my mobile phone regarding a serious injury at the plant that required my immediate presence. In my haste to leave, I carelessly left the bunched up tights on the floor and the door ajar. Alex, seeing the door to my office uncharacteristically unlocked and open, decided to explore. Needless to say, he found the tights and my iPad. I had one of those private photo apps, scrambling Susan's birthday as a passcode. Alex had no problem breaking the code. He then proceeded to view my cache of stories, most about men reduced to maids in their families. He read with a mixture of fascination and disgust such stories as Missy's Reality, Reality Too and Uncle, cwcobblestone's Aunt Edna, chas19839's Replaced, Deborah Ford's The Adventures of Eriika, Marcus, an Eden and Meah Sooh's Sissydad. Mixed in with these were captioned images of male maids and cuckolded fathers from philspeed's ImageFap page,. Alex went straight away with this copious evidence of perversion to Susan. It took five minutes for Susan to call Chad. My goose was cooked.

After taking with Alex and Susan, and reviewing the incriminating evidence, Chad announced, "I think it's time for a little family meeting. Georgie is going to explain to everyone what he does and why. I want him to read his little stories out loud so we can all can enjoy them."

Susan asked if it was okay for Alex and Chloe to hear the stories. Chad responded, "First of all, Alex has already read them because that pervert left his iPad lying around. Second, teenagers are pretty aware of things nowadays, at least in this neighborhood. You know that Chloe knows damn well what the scoop is with Paul Evans." Paul is the father of Chloe's friend Amber Evans. He was openly cuckolded by his wife, Karen, and had started wearing makeup in public. There were rumors going around about unusual happenings at the Evans home.

I replied, in a state of panic, "I don't think this is a good idea, Chad. Not in front of Alex and Chloe."

Chad replied, "Georgie, you surrendered your right to opine on what is and what isn't a good idea around here. You're going to get the chance to make your fantasies a reality. I want everyone in the family room at 6pm sharp."

That evening I stood in shame before my seated family and Chad, unable to look any of them in the eye. Susan began, "Kids, tonight is the time for some important revelations and changes in our life. Chloe, I'm sure Alex filled you in on what he found in your father's room." Chloe nodded affirmatively in disgust.

"Well, this secret, shameful behavior at our house is unacceptable. However, it is who your father is. But there is something crucially important you need to know, something that might make his behavior a little easier for you to accept. While he raised you, George is not your biological father. Your real father left home when you were both babies and George offered us financial security. But you don't share, what should I call it...you don't share his deeply passive and submissive genes."

"Well, that explains a lot," said Alex.

"Good," said Chloe, "I would be ashamed to have a man who wants to be a sissy maid as my real father." That really stung.

"The good news is, now that everything is out in the open, your pa here can be true to himself, and we've got ourselves a 24/7 family maid," said Chad.

"You can't do this to me. I will leave," I said meekly.

Susan answered, "Oh come on, George. The house and the company are in my name. You have no skills other than domestic skills. What are you going to do, get a job as a hotel maid? Besides, I know you love me and the kids. We care about you too, in our own way. We are offering you a unique opportunity to live out your fantasies. To be who you really are. How many masochists like you ever truly get that chance?"

"No, I won't do it," I said.

"Then get your things and leave. Now.", replied Susan.

Then it all hit me. If I left, I would be completely alone and penniless. I really did love Susan as well as the kids. I did derive satisfaction and meaning from doing things for them. I broke down in tears, falling to my knees.