The letters below are reprinted verbatim from publications, I believe, of the 1980s and are provided for interest.
Mary from Maxstoke, her mother and her friend Denise
Here I am again. Pansy has just finished starring in her own humiliating video called, “A Day in the Life of a Sissy”, it’s absolutely fantastic. All I, mother and my friends had hoped for. As amateurs we are well pleased. Do you at MADAME want a copy? Can you take photos from it?
Anyhow down to business. Pansy is still hard at it domestically, working a very hard menial eighteen hour day. She still works at the old folks home. My new friend, Pamela, who runs the home, is very pleased with Pany’s performance, the laundry being her main duty. She now has added further cleaning work, being given a full toilet leaning round each day. She gets to clean over twenty five toilets, baths and the shower room. along with the sluices on all floors. She is closely timed on this duty having one hour twenty minutes to complete and then it’s straight back to the hell of the laundry. Matron controls the
bog cleaning very strictly and was so impressed with Pansy’s efforts on her first
cleaning duties that she gave her some more to do. Proof that hard work is rewarded, what
an absolute hoot. We love it.
Pansy is fully cross dressed now. In full nylon overall, frilly tabard, stockings, sussie belt, and nylon slip. She is never out of rubber gloves and wears a plastic see through protect-all pinny over her uniform. The frilly tabard showing through sweetly. She gets very hot in this clothing and has lost over a stone in weight since starting her hell shifts. On her return home we have to strip her off, and cold shower her before redressing her for more hard work with me as Martinet. Poor sod does get some stick, but never mind.
Pamela has witnessed a humiliation night. I finally relented, and as I did not wish for Pansy to lose his new job, I invited her some weeks ago. She arrived with a friend, along with a small group of likeminded ladies, ranging in age from 32-55. Mother adopted her usual role as dance mistress, and the effeminate sissy Pansy, the role of dancer. She was forcibly cross dressed in the frilliest sissy party frock, deliciously short, a smock style with all the fullness coming from under his armpits, the bodice bedecked in lace frills and shoulder flounces, a sash around his waist, full gathered ruched ra-ra skirt, held out over masses of frothy girlish can-can petticoats, lace trimmed flouncy girl’s knee length knickers add to his humiliation. A long blonde wig, held up in ribbon trimmed bunches is jammed over his own perm. [I have yet to re-introduce head shaving], white frilled ankle socks and ballet pumps finish the fool off a treat. Mother, when ready, puts a record on the stereo and Pansy proceeds to entertain, dancing to the music in a very bemused and despondent fashion. The audience sits sipping endless G & T’s roaring with laughter at his hopeless petticoated condition. What a super way to treat the so-called male.
Mother never fails to break him, bringing him to tears usually within ten minutes of her treatment. Her ball breaking favourite is to make him go around to each lady in turn and as he stands before them, she makes him curtsey to her. The lady is asked if she is satisfied with his efforts. She never is of course, and the fool is made to bob up and down until she is perfectly happy, and then it’s on to the next lady. Off he goes again bob, bob, until they’re happy. Some ladies insist on his curtseying in a very girlish manner, holding his petties
up, showing frilly panties, others insist on a very starchy submissive curtsey. Pamela was of the latter ilk, preferring him to curtsey before her in a very submissive manner. She gave him a very hard time, giving him
some fifty or so before being satisfied that he had learnt his lesson. She also gave him a hard time verbally, rebuking him very cruelly saying he was fortunate to be petticoated by such attentive women and that there was no escape from his frilly hell. Which is quite right of course. After his dance class, we had him running about serving us, clearing away, washing up, etc. And then he was brought in to be put into his hated nappies and plastic baby bloomers.
Lying on his change mat, wrists bound behind his back, Mother drew off his girl’s knickers, and pushing his petticoats to one side, his private parts were lathered up and the razor stropped. Mother expertly shaved the already stubbly area in a jiff, reducing him to the plucked chicken look that always gives the girls a good laugh. They were then liberally smeared in a heat inducing rub, his knob and helmet getting good seeing to. As the rub burns into his privates Pansy goes bright red and gurgles and dribbles with the sheer pain of it. She tries to act in a manly way, what a joke, but has to let go, gurgling away. The dummy teat is put in place and tied off behind his head. preventing removal.
Baby is then lifted into his starched terry nappies, pinned in, and two pairs of plastic pants are pulled over them. Pamela is now able to provide endless supplies of old plastic pants, giving me all the old home’s cast offs, perfectly good enough for this prat! Now bedecked in his nappies, party frock and petties, he is made to climb into our adapted baby high chair, the fool is restrained with leg cuffs going around his ankles, arms remaining handcuffed behind his back. In this humiliating position he is left in front of my huge dining room mirror for two hours to look at himself. The night finishes with the forfeit raffle, my guests choose a ticket, the winner gets to dish out the final humiliation, before we all retire. This particular night my good friend Margaret won the privilege. He was pushed to the centre of the room and Margaret told him the good news. Now I know he particularly hates Maggie as she is always very hard on him indeed. His head dropped onto his frilly chest, as she announced that he was to coo for us. If he did not coo in proper baby fashion to our total satisfaction he would be fed and he knew what that meant. As Margaret slipped her hand up his nappy leg, under his plastic bloomers, Pansy was encouraged to lisp and coo as she tormented his red enflamed penis. As she teased, he cooed and did his utmost To act as a baby. He looked a total prat as we laughed and pointed at him.
He knew of course that Maggie would not spare even his best efforts at baby mimickery and he was right. After about an hour of teasing him, she called Mother to get his tea ready. Pansy shook her head in bemusement. Tears filled her eyes, she knew what was coming and sure enough, Mother came into the room with a full ashtray and some baby food, his feeding bowl and a pretty pinny for Margaret. As she donned her pinny. to prevent any soiling of her clothes. I tied a frilly baby bib around Pansy’s neck. Pansy tried to plead for forgiveness, his dummy tightly preventing any talk. Maggie mixed the baby food into the ashtray, shovelling the mixture into his dish, and mocking him verbally. She eventually removed his dummy and he was made to ask each lady if they had really enjoyed humiliating him and did they think it was now time for his tea? They all agreed that they had and that now it was time for tea.
Maggie went over to him, and gave him a stinging slap across the face telling him what a big poof he was and that as poofs are shit, they must eat shit. At this she scooped up a big spoonful of the mixture, and dribbled a mouthful of spit onto it. Holding his nose, his mouth eventually opened for air. At this she took the spoon and very cruelly forced the spoonful down into the back of his throat. He had to take it and with a look of shame and indignation, swallowed the mouthful. The same procedure was repeated, Margaret giving him the whole mixture over a period of two hours. Unlike me, she likes him to savour every mouthful. We all had a truly great night. Pamela and her friend were well entertained and have hinted that they would like to come again.
I have witnessed Pansy’s regime. Mary’s punishment sessions are an education. Mary is a complete Mistress of the Art and Pansy who I believe has been in petticoats now for some fourteen years is the total submissive. Any attempt at male aggression or ignorant behaviour has been over the years totally squashed. He
is now a pitiful wimp, surrounded in a sea of frilly flounces, a laughing stock for dominant females to punish.
I was so captivated by his petticoated condition and the shame the enforced wearing of these clothes were causing him, that I did a study of his condition. Being an ex university student. I had a good insight into
psychology and the results of me noting and watching body language and his reactions proved that it was indeed the ENFORCED aspect of his condition that was controlling his behaviour. From my studies and test conditions imposed over a short period I found that Pansy was easier to control. when he was subjected to the threat of the
unknown. For example when he was switched from one dress to another prior to an evening’s humiliation, his heart rate increased and his feel for any evidence of mercy or freedom were removed by the switch. It was almost as if changing his apparel at the last moment re-emphasised his lack of control reference to his position.
This was highlighted when if for instance he was removed from his maid’s outfit and put into a little girl
style party frock, an hour before the guests arrived. I suspected that he was hit by the feeling that while his maid’s dress was fitting enough to be worn for him to do the chores in, his frilly party dress now
became something really special. His Mistress having removed one humiliating costume from him, was about to replace it with yet another. Pansy having no choice was now “between a rock and a hard place”, both dresses were humiliating, but Mary, by changing him without choice was cleverly reappointing her control, and the control of his shame outfits, over him. He now had to submit to Mary’s mother dressing him. An experience
he always hates. The removal of his working dress, and the enforced putting on of what is now a special dress. More ridiculous in style, more shaming, and totally humiliating to his last threads of maleness. He was also
aware that in this guise he would soon be stood before five or six very amused ladies whereas earlier he had come to terms with perhaps serving them as a maid. He would now be put through his paces as sweet little Susanne.
So we have the interesting aspect of the use of clothing to ‘punish and shame’ the miscreant. No different from the dunce’s cap, horse hair punishment clothes, or penitence clothing of years ago. Women prisoners until recently were always made to scrub and clean wearing very obvious designer punishment uniforms.
The interesting point of him having to put on a new outfit at such a late stage would be evident as soon as he was turned out. Little time had been given for him to get re-accustomed to his new frillies.
Mary’s mother could always be relied upon to do a good job on him. He would be expected to stand before us and take his punishment. However I could tell that the clothing was having a refining effect upon him by the
look on his face and the closed body language. Needless to say we ladies indulged ourselves and humiliated him cruelly, but it was always when reference was made to his pretty frillies that his composure would evaporate. In
the case of Pansy, he had a particular dread of wearing an apron or pinafore, regardless of how frilly his dress and petticoats may be. When reference was made to an apron, or the one he was wearing was changed and played with, he would moan and colour up. He did so hate wearing them. Mary had of course picked up on
this a long time ago and all his aprons, pinafores and overalls are extremely effeminate and very, very frilly. We would take great delight in making him play with his apron or purposely change it for him.
I can recall on many occasions Pansy literally moaning with shame as he was tied into another very frilly and elaborate pinafore, as he stood before us, sometimes making a deathly sighing noise of total despair. On hearing this we would all laugh, and tease him all the more. Another refinement he hated was having his petticoats inspected. This would entail him standing on a stool. the girls would group around him, and take in turns to lift up his frilly petticoat skirts. Great play was made of the prettiness of them. They would be described in detail
and we would all pretend how we would love to be able to wear such pretty frilly underwear.
As this utter humiliation was unfolding. Pansy would literally hang his head in total humiliation. Some girls would play with the frills at the front, staring at his shamed face. Others would look at them from the back, lifting them up and giggling endlessly. How those clothes shamed him. He had been in petticoats for ages but the refining effect was still as clear-cut as the first day he had been forcibly attired. Mary and her mother, had full control of him naturally, but we visitors also had a free rein, and I cannot possibly explain in detail some of the more elaborate humiliations we had him perform.
Arriving at my second point, my girlfriend and I have taken it upon ourselves to “blood” a young TV male as our maid. We both hate housework, and via an advert in a contact mag. we have located a young twenty six year old sissy male who has actually begged us to put him to work. Now I know this is cheating to a certain extent, as it should really be a young fit macho male, but we do wish to save some time and get the jobs
done. We are in our sixth week with him. She has been christened Nancy and we have started with his training.
At present he is being simply trained and wears only an overall. Aprons, pinafores and maid’s uniform will be progressively utilised as we proceed; neither of us wish to rush the job. As with Pansy, I wish to extend his
petticoat humiliation to other areas and my partner has suggested we revert him back to a baby, complete with all the humiliating aspects of the nursery. So when not maiding for us our captive can expect to have the pleasure of going back into nappies and of course delicious frilly, high waisted baby dresses. Having seen how very effeminate punishment clothing can restrain the male.
I will be looking to put him in very elaborate baby dresses, designed in such a way to actually ridicule his height and long legs. He will be put in short, mid thigh length dresses, well gathered and with the fullness coming from just below the bust line, in true baby fashion. The skirts will be gathered, and with very pretty frilly
petticoats worn under them. Puff sleeves and lashings of lace. Frills and flounces will set off the special baby status of Nancy.
Nappies will be worn constantly with just the one change every twenty four hours. I will have him in plastic incontinence pants at all times, no accidents will be tolerated. With him being “put in short” he will not be able to hide his nappy, pants and bulky crutch region. He should look quite a prat as he stands before us for inspection.
From time to time I will put him in frilly baby over-pants. just to give him more to worry about, but I must say I prefer every one should see that the big sucker is a ‘wetter’ and needs waterproofing.- On his head will be a frilly baby bonnet, again lots of lace and frills to frame his sweet face. Around his neck will be a lacy frothy baby bib, inscribed with his name. At feed times and when the whim takes us, like Pansy, a frilly pinny will be
worn. And the final indignity of course his big silly dummy teat, strapped into place to prevent it from being removed.
When threatened with this humiliating garb. We feel that Nancy will express a preference to carry on
maiding, wearing his delightful uniform!
We intend to display Nancy in much the same way as Mary does with her Pansy. I would not dream of involving her in any aspect of Nancy’s shame as I do not consider myself in her league. But I feel I have learnt
enough from the sessions involving Pansy to do a good job, get my housework done and have a really good laugh. Yes. I will invite my friends around, why not? These experiences should be shared. We wish to
see how Nancy reacts to a group humiliation, with him as the absolute centre of attention. It will I am sure keep him hard at work and nicely passive.
The whole aspect of petticoat humiliation intrigues me, and with some help from my friend and of course my mother, who has agreed to make him all his dresses and accessories, we should go on from strength
I would like to take the opportunity of thanking Mary and her mother for showing me the way forward, I am a committed man hater thanks to her, and can assure all your readers I mean to work the bastards until they drop and humiliate them at every turn. It is without doubt, delicious enjoyable stuff.
Candy Floss and Mistress Pamela
Hello again. It’s the ebony, black (and beautiful) Miss Pamela writing to you again to give you the latest, up-to-date report of the goings-on in my household with my two slaves. My handsome Jamaican fiance Royston and my sweet little she-male maid Candy Floss. Most of my report has been covered in previous letter to you, with one or two notable exceptions.
I was talking to my darling sister Nikki the other day on whether T.V. boys made better slave-maids than real girls. Nikki and I had just finished a hard work-out at the local gymnasium and were sitting in the gym coffee shop still wearing our skimpy leotards, two black chicks showing off our athletic bodies and ample charms, teasing all the lustful men. As Nikki has always said, “If you’ve got it girl, flaunt it.” I told Nikki I had no objection about girls being forced into slavery but I, personally believe, that pretty young boys, taken at an early age can be trained, conditioned and transformed into lovely maids to spend their lives in enforced servitude to their superiors. Candy Floss is one such she-male maid. Having been orphaned in her early teens she was put into an orphanage where, she had years of being taught what a waste of society she was. She was on a contact site as a submissive. Perfect for our plans as she had no family. Candy was rescued by Royston and myself and has become our dim-witted, hard working feminine maid.
In fact, the only reminder she has that she was once a male is her tiny penis between her legs, permanently restrained and completely redundant.
Although Royston and I make use of Candy sexually she is taught that it is for our pleasure, not hers, and she will never be allowed to have an orgasm, serving her attractive black owners should be pleasure enough for our shy, timid little slave maid. When I first came into possession of Candy, I set myself a 5 year target of making her completely impotent. This has meant a tearful caning each time her little penis tries to erect inside its chastity device. To start with this meant every time I used Candy’s tongue for my intimate pleasure, but she is learning. The conditioning is working. I am accelerating the conditioning by often having Candy moisturise my whole body after I have showered or bathed. A tearful caning normally follows the moisturising. My firm thighs, my shaved labia, my heavy breasts and my firm shapely rear all test her rule of impotence. But each caning is her fault.
If she keeps her little encased penis flaccid, she does not get the cane. It is her choice.
In previous editions of your magazine a Ms G.P. of Portsmouth (my mentor) and a Joan of Birmingham told how they have their male maids dressed in rubber outfits and overalls for work and domestic duties. Very practical I agree, but I have Candy will wear her knee-length plain, cotton, maid’s dress when I send her shopping or on the bus to my sister’s house. At home I like to dress my maid in short little French maid’s outfits for housework or serving me and my family and friends. She looks so cute mincing around the house in her high heeled booties, showing off her knickers and stocking tops as she walks, while the plunging neckline shows just a little cleavage of her perfectly formed, tiny breasts. I am sure Candy would rather wear less revealing and more modest clothes but knows I would never allow that. Her sweet feminine body is a perfect example of how a boy can be transformed into a silly bimbo girl, and once they make the change, she-male maids are more docile and more obedient than real girls and easier to control. Candy is just seven stone and weak as a kitten, due mainly to her regular dose of female hormones and has become very insecure and emotional and cries a lot. Although I use pain, (or the fear of pain) to control both Royston and Candy it is sometimes amusing to show Candy a rare moment of kindness – the other side of the coin, so to speak. For example, only last week after Candy had given me a relaxing massage and a session of oral worship to my body, I took her by the shoulders and saying “Good girl” to her I gave my surprised maid a kiss on the cheek, then sent her back to her domestic duties with a light pat on the bottom. She seemed so happy by this simple act it was like a dream to her but I brought her back to reality an hour later when, after needing to call her twice to mix me a drink, I had her touch her toes while I gave her six stinging strokes with the cane.
From being an avid reader of your magazine for many years I have found several interesting and helpful ideas in ways of humiliating your slave and keeping them subdued. It seems some owners like to economize on toilet cleaner and floor polish by having their slaves lick clean toilets, baths, floors, doorsteps, patios etc, and while I don’t disapprove (they are your property, after all) 1 like to keep Candy’s mouth and tongue fresh and clean for those more intimate duties required of her. It is because of this I didn’t fully approve of a spiteful little game my niece had devised to amuse herself. Unity has grown into a fine young lady and has high hopes of going into modelling and becoming the next Tyra Banks or Naomi Cambell. In the morning I had sent Candy on the bus to my sister’s to clean for her and, after going around the clothes’ shops and boutiques in town I decided to have tea with my sister Nikki and collect my maid. Candy had a lot of chores to do for me that evening. After a hard day’s work for my sister and her family Candy goes home, changes from her plain outfit into a short maid’s dress, and continues with the never-ending housework, working her little butt off while Royston and I relax in front of the television, or watch a sexy video, getting us really turned on and ready for bed (and not to sleep). The sight that filled my eyes when I entered the back door of my sister’s made me burst out laughing. Candy was kneeling on the kitchen floor, naked except for her maid’s cap, stiletto booties and her jewellery – ear and nipple rings, her silver belled collar and steel penis lock. She had her head down and her bottom high in the air. Candy, tears dripping from her cheeks, was busy licking a pair of my niece’s trainers while Unity stood behind her, flexing a thin cane. Candy had several bright red weals on her bottom that weren’t there that morning. Unity looked absolutely drop-dead gorgeous in her tight jeans and sleeveless blouse. Her long black afro hair framed her pretty face and light coffee – coloured skin.
“What’s the stupid bitch done now?” I asked. Unity gave me a mischievous smile.
“Oh Auntie Pam, she’s useless, I asked her nicely to clean my shoes and she made such a bad job of them I’m making her lick them clean. I hope you don’t mind?” I looked at the shoes which seemed to have been polished to perfection.
“Of course, I don’t mind honey, she must leam to do as she’s told.” Unity brought the cane down across Candy’s bottom with a loud crack.
“Lick harder you lazy slut,” Unity said, then added with a little giggle “and don’t forget to lick the soles Floss, I took a short cut across the park today and I think they’re muddy.” Crack, Unity brought the cane down again and my tearful maid howled and licked the shoes for all her miserable life was worth. I wondered if Unity really knew the pain she was inflicting on my poor slave maid, probably not and most certainly didn’t care either. I was sure six of the best with the cane on Unity’s soft bottom would show her just how painful and effective a good caning is, but, of course, that will never happen.
Like most young girls of her age. Unity had experimented in sex. Unity despises male wimps and loves to find ways to humiliate and degrade them, but she is fond of big, strong and assertive boys and will act all coy and girlish in their presence.
After tea with Nikki and her family, I drove Candy (dressed once more in her cotton uniform) home with me. How she loves travelling in my warm, comfortable B.M.W. instead of on the bus, in full view of the public. The first thing 1 had Candy do when we got home was to brush her teeth and rinse her mouth out with anti-septic mouth wash. Then she changed from her cotton dress to an ultra-short uniform and returned to her never-ending domestic duties.
I went to my bedroom and unlocked the door. Royston was as I left him, naked, lying on the bed, his hands tied behind his back and his ankles tied together. I had also blindfolded him with one of my silk scarfs. I had tied him up and left him all afternoon for my amusement and to emphasize my controls over him, and because there was a live football match on the television I knew he wanted to watch. I took off his blindfold, slipped out of my simple silk dress and climbed onto the bed next to my big fiance. I kissed and caressed him and pushed my tongue deep into his mouth, my warm, naked body and heady perfume made Royston become rock hard. I whispered in his ear that I might let him watch the football highlights that evening, but only if he pleased me. I untied his bonds and Royston didn’t need telling twice, and without bothering to put any clothes on, we went downstairs for the evening meal that Candy had prepared for us. As we ate, our maid cleaned the shower after us, picking up the damp towels. She replaced them with clean dry ones, making sure the lines and patterns on the towels matched exactly. In the bedroom she picked up my dress and changed the sheets. She put the soiled sheets to be washed, then Candy sprayed the room and turned the bed covers down, ready for us. I am sure Candy would love to sleep in a comfortable bed every night instead of her pink sleeping bag on the cold kitchen floor. My little maid has very few creature comforts but at least she has a roof over head and a purpose in her life – that of a domestic slave to a lovely black couple, and though we don’t treat her well, she is very handy to have around the house.
Candy Floss has served me diligently for nearly eight years now and I mentioned in my very first letter to you, that I hoped to get at least ten or twelve years of hard, unpaid, work from her before we need to replace her with a new, younger model. A cute sissy boy or girl maid, easily available on the Fem/Dom network. Although our new slave maid will have the basic housework skills, it will be Candy’s job to train her replacement to the very high standards required of her by her new, black owners. When we first acquired Candy, both Royston and I were fairly inexperienced at owning a small, young she-male and I mentioned in my letter that we were a bit lax and easy-going with her, only punishing her for serious faults, letting her eat when she didn’t really deserve to and even allowing her to talk. (If Candy were to speak now without permission I would coat her tongue with hot pepper). Being too lenient with Candy was a mistake and by becoming much stricter with a lot more discipline we noticed a great improvement in both her work and her willingness to serve. To any young masters or mistresses about to take charge of a domestic slave, remember the saying that is as true today as it always has been, “SPARE THE ROD AND SPOIL THE MAID.” When our new maid has finally passed the grade as an obedient housemaid and submissive whore then Candy will be dumped on the streets hundreds of miles away from our home to try and survive on the streets as best she can, homeless, penniless and in just the clothes she has. Not a pretty maid’s dress but rags from a box in the attic. Poor Candy doesn’t have much of a future to look forward to, but she is just a lowly slave and of no importance.
Dear Candida, How pleased I was to see my letter published in your magazine about me (the coloured Mistress Pamela) my fiance Royston and my sissy male maid Candy Floss. To those who read my letter I promised to write again when Royston arrived home from his six week business trip to America. Royston my big Jamaican lover was sitting on the settee watching television while I, sitting between his parted knees, leant back against his broad chest. His left arm circled my thin waist, while his right hand was pushed inside my blouse, playing with my braless tits.
It had been a heavy day of lovemaking and I was totally spent, Royston making up for the six weeks he spent wearing a penis restraint. He had bought both Candy and myself a gift each. For me it was a beautiful gold bracelet from Tiffany’s and a less expensive but novel toy for Candy. It was a simple, round, silver collar, no thicker than a pencil. Once fitted round her neck it had a self locking catch and could no longer be removed. Hanging from the collar were two small silver bells which made a pretty, delicate little sound as she moved. I had made her perform cunnilingus on me and the bells tinkled amusingly as she struggled to bring me to an orgasm. Oral sex has always been my favourite form of pleasure, having been introduced to it at an early age by my darling elder sister, Nikki. Watching my little slave’s bottom wriggle as she sucked on my clitoris I felt that warm sensation that precedes a climax. I had been well fucked by Royston and Candy drank in the cocktail of pussy juice, semen and sweat as I came in her mouth. Now as I relaxed in the lounge with Royston Candy was in the kitchen doing a pile of ironing.
I clapped my hands, summoning her to me. She entered the room, curtsied and stood before us in her little French maid’s outfit. As 1 mentioned in my previous letter Candy is 21, quite pretty, immature and a virgin thanks to the penis restraint she always wears on her tiny apparatus. I stood up and walked behind her, taller than her even in her high heels. She trembled visibly and when I touched her bottom. 1 felt a shiver run down her spine. “How’s she behaved in my absence?” Royston asked. “Her usual bone idle self I replied “I had to use my crop on her several times”. I smiled as I remembered all her sobbing and pleading with me. Suddenly without warning I crashed my fist into the I small of Candy’s back causing her to lurch forward and crumple on her knees in front of Royston.. With that I retired for the night, twenty minutes later Royston joined me and I curled up in his arms to sleep. The time was 12 o’clock midnight. Candy had to finish the ironing, wash our supper dishes and I clean the kitchen ready for breakfast. She could then wash her little body in the tin bath in the scullery.
She is kept completely hairless except for her blonde mane and small pubic mound. In the large mirror she uses to check her appearance she can see her tattoo I AM CANDY FLOSS THE MAID a constant reminder of her enforced situation. Putting on her pink girlie pyjamas she crawls into her sleeping bag in the comer of the kitchen floor. The next day after she had cooked and cleared away our breakfast things and made our bed I let her have a cold bowl of cereal mixed with water. Candy’s food is mostly bland and plain. It has to be earned by hard work and it is not unknown for her to go the whole day without anything to eat while I supervise a sumptuous meal for Royston and myself and have Candy serving and waiting on us. Now and then we treat her to tasty pieces of leftovers as I like to keep her taste buds active.
Today I was sending Candy to my sister Nikki to clean for her. I really wanted her out of the house for the day while I tried a little experiment of my own. Royston drove Candy to my sister’s. She was wearing her short maid’s dress and very high heels. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with a pink bow and she had on some pink lipstick and rose blusher on her cheeks. She also had her knee length plastic mack with her as she was to walk home. I follow Ms.G.P’s advice and have Nikki write out a report of her work to be brought to me in a sealed envelope.
In my last letter I mentioned I had never been caned or spanked in my life and felt Candy made far too big a deal about it. That is why I decided that Royston should administer a mild caning upon my knickers just to get a light feel of it. I told Royston I would start with six and see how I felt after that. I also told him that for every stroke I received I would administer six to his bare bottom. I love my fiance but I am the boss. He belongs just to me, while Candy belongs to both of us. I would never dream of degrading him or trying to change him. I love Royston just the way he is, a handsome, obedient stud. With a little trepidation I knelt over the side of the bed wearing just my tight knickers. Royston was naked as he stood at my side. The first stroke whistled through the air and struck me. I couldn’t believe the pain. It stung like a line of giant bees. I went to cry out but my vocal cords contracted producing just a faint gasp. On the second stroke I did cry out and the sting made my eyes fill with water. Just as I felt I could take no more Royston delivered a third. I sprang to my feet hopping around the room holding my burning rear and feeling tears on my cheek. Royston was filled with remorse and, dropping the cane to the floor, kissed and embraced me. Lying me face down on the bed Royston began rubbing baby cream onto my flaming bottom, soothing and cooling- How could our gentle, meek little slave take such pain? Simple, she has no choice, but instead of feeling pity for Candy I ‘felt an overwhelming sense of power and licked my lips in anticipation of her homecoming.
Soon the hurt began to ebb away (after all they had only been mild strokes) and Royston’s strong hands upon my soft, black and round bottom was making me feel quite sexy. I parted my legs slightly and guided his fingers inside me. Before long I climaxed in a deep, shuddering orgasm. I duly gave Royston his eighteen strokes plus two to make it a nice round number. I always use all my strength on him but have never succeeded in making him cry or beg for mercy. What a difference between Royston and that pathetic weakling Candy. 1 decided that Royston should wear his penis restraint for a week, far worse a punishment for my virile young man than any caning.
Candy returned home about 6.30 walking the three miles from my sister’s house in her high heels, a plastic mack over her short dress. Although her work is of a very high standard I was sure Nikki would find something to fault her on, and sure enough on reading her report card it seemed our slave had made a poor job of ironing my niece’s pleated school skirt and Nikki felt obliged to mention the fact. Now after removing her coat and handing me the report card with a curtsy she nervously awaited my response. “Did you have anything to eat or drink at Nikki’s?” I asked. “Yes Mistress” Candy replied. “Miss Unity gave me a little dog food and a glass of dish water”. Clearly my niece Unity had been amusing herself at my slave’s expense. “It seems from this report Floss that you can’t even iron a skirt properly. If you’re so inadequate maybe we should get rid of you and get ourselves a little girl”. Candy who had been looking down, her blue eyes lowered in my presence trembled in fear, making the bells on her slave collar jingle. She was well aware that one day we would replace her with a younger boy or girl and she would be dumped penniless and homeless on the streets with no family or friends to run to. No wonder she was scared.
“If we do get another maid Floss I suppose we could always put you on the game, hire you out down at the local gay bar”. I said this to humiliate her but it struck me as not a bad idea and something to be mused over. Royston and I visited this club regularly and had many friends amongst its gay clientele. Hookers and rent boys plied their trade there and in the back room young boys and girls were bought and sold or auctioned off. It was a great place to spend an evening.
“Go into the lounge and beg Royston to put you over his knee and spank you for being an inadequate, lazy bitch, and thank your lucky stars I’m tired and don’t take my crop to you”. Candy looked dejected and close to tears. “Yes Mistress” she said and with a little curtsy hurried to obey. I went upstairs and took my vibrator and dildo from a drawer and placed them on the bed. With Royston under lock and key I would need them later.
On returning to the lounge Candy was stood in the comer, facing the wall, her hands on her head and her knickers round her ankles. Her bottom was a nice scarlet colour, “I hope you’re not planning to stand around all evening Floss?” I asked. “There’s plenty of work for you to do. I’ll be checking up on what you’ve done before I got to bed tonight so get cracking”. Candy pulled up her panties over her well spanked bottom, straightened her dress and apron and hurried for the kitchen, but luckily for her she stopped and remembered to curtsy to Royston and me before leaving the room.
I lay down on the couch with my head in Royston’s lap and he gently caressed and stroked my face and long afro hair. With my fiance being at work most of the day the thought of being a dutiful housewife is not for me which is why we tolerate Candy. Both Royston and I can relax and enjoy our time together knowing the housework and other mundane chores are being done to near perfection by our sissy male maid whose fear of punishment and pain really keeps her on her toes. There is absolutely nothing better than a good beating now and again to motivate a slave.
I have run on as usual Candida and I hope my letter is not too long. I must stress that as before, every word is true. Like Candy Floss there must be thousands of men and women, boys and girls in enforced servitude and with the help of your magazine we can encourage many more Mistresses and slaves to join the fold. Love and best wishes from the black and beautiful,
I have had the pleasure of writing to you many occasions about myself, the ebony black Mistress Pamela, and of life in my household with my two slaves, my handsome strong Jamaican fiance Royston and my sweet, white, petite she-male maid Candy Floss, and you have always been kind enough to print my letters.
Before I give you my latest report I must first address a letter in a recent edition of your magazine that said 1 was very cruel to Royston and Candy. 1 disagree, I believe 1 am firm but fair. Of course, being a hot red blooded Mistress I may take out any pent up frustration or stress on my obedient fiance’s rump. I only ever cane Candy for her faults such as poor work or slovenly appearance and, due to my extensive training, I seldom need to apply the cane to her soft feminine body more than once or twice a week. Any minor faults might require on the spot punishment and I will slap her face or kick her on the shins. On the positive side Candy is fed, clothed and given a reason to live, to serve her Mistress and make my life easier and more pleasurable. She has a roof over her head for as long as we keep her as our domestic slave maid.
As I have mentioned before in previous letters, sexual duties are often required of Candy, and Candy must comply with whatever we desire of her just like the sweet little slave girl she is.
Twice a week I send Candy on the bus to my darling sister Nikki. When Candy goes out she changes from her ultra short French maid’s dress to a knee length cotton outfit. My sister has asked if she can borrow Candv every Wednesday and Saturday and, of course, I am happy to oblige. Nikki and her husband are out at work on Wednesday and their only child (my teenage, drop-dead gorgeous niece Unity) is at sixth form college so Candy can get on with all of the housework. She will polish the whole house and vacuum the carpets, strip the beds and change their linen, wash down all the woodwork (doors, skirting boards etc) clean the stove and microwave, scrub the kitchen floor and polish the bathroom and the toilets till they sparkle.
My sister Nikki is a qualified beautician and masseur and runs a mobile service. She sometimes comes home between appointments for a shower and a bite to eat and to check up on our stupid maid’s progress. Although Nikki is a gentle and kind person, she will punish Candy if she feels she is slacking, or for a lack of effort in her work. In the hall closet Nikki keeps a thin, crook handled cane and a strip of knotted, leather, horse harness. Candy often arrives home with a very sore, well striped bottom. On Saturday at my sister’s house Candy must do all her family’s washing and ironing, and there’s always a huge pile of clothes to get through, along with cleaning and polishing all their shoes and boots. Unfortunately for Candy, on a Saturday, Unity is at home and will tease and mock my poor maid without mercy. Last weekend Unity’s bitch friend Emily was visiting and my coffee-coloured niece caned Candy for their amusement – just for the fun of seeing her cry.
Once home again Candy changes back into her ultra short maid’s dress to continue her never ending household duties. Due to a strict diet of scraps from our plates I keep Candy at around seven stones and she can slip easily into a small size ten dress. It was a recent decision to move onto the scraps only diet. The scraps are left in a plastic bowl under the sink with the cleaning products and dirty cloths and rags. Candy gets to eat the cold scraps once we have gone to bed. Puddings scraps mixed in with savory scraps. I am presented with the bowl after the last meal has been cleared away and I ensure sweet is properly stirred in with savory and also that there is not too much food. I like my little she-male to be nice and skinny. With her long blonde hair, pretty face and firm breasts, Candy minces around the house in her high heels, swaying her hips and giving sexy glimpses of her panties and stocking tops whenever she moves.
Deprived of any news of the outside world, (she is not allowed to read newspapers or watch television), Candy lives as a penniless domestic servant, orphaned and alone. It’s no wonder Candy clings to us, we are the only stable thing she has in her life, yet well aware that one day, once we decided she is past her sell by date, we will dump her far from home, on the streets of some inner city hell-hole.
As usual Candida, my letter is rather long but I hope you can find space for it in your great magazine. 1 have it reserved for me every month and Royston has orders to pick up the latest edition on his way home from work.
I have just returned from a work out at the gym and, as I sit in the armchair reading. Candy, her hands bound behind her, is kneeling at my feet, having a break from the housework, as she gives my toes a relaxing oral massage, sucking on each delicate toe and using her tongue to remove any bits of fluff or grime from between them. As my maid’s bleached blonde hair hangs down and caresses my feet 1 lie back and close my eyes, happy and content. 1 have a lovely life, I am black and beautiful, rich, pampered and spoiled by my two slaves Royston and Candy Floss.
1 always keep your magazines Candida and have drawers in my desk full of them. Candy of course is always too busy to read a magazine, but as a special treat I sometimes allow Royston to look at the pictures and photos in MADAM of the Mistress and models in dominant poses. They always turn him on and make him go rock hard between the legs. Although Royston is my slave I love him dearly. I would never humiliate him or try to change him. He is my friend, confidante and bodyguard. After a torrid night of sex with me, Royston’s back is covered in scratches where my nails have clawed him and his chest and shoulders often have bite marks where I have, on the point of climax, sunk my teeth in him. They are love wounds inflicted by me, for the honour of sharing my bed.
Candy is another matter. A born submissive she may be but our gentle little maid is certainly no masochist and even after many years in our service the threat of a caning fills Candy with terror. Although I’m certainly no sadist 1 have to admit that the sight of bright scarlet stripes lining my maid’s small, white bottom makes me go quite damp and fills me with a warm, pleasant glow, so at least Candy knows that despite her own pain and suffering she can be happy and content in the knowledge that she is giving pleasure to her dominant, black owner. Pamela. I should mention a little more about Unity’s bitch friend Emily. Emily has just turned 18, like Unity and Emily has a 16 year old brother. Emily and Unity concocted a plan to turn Emily’s little brother into her personal slave. I am in no doubt she felt jealous of Unity’s fun with Floss. So, Unity half seduced Emily’s brother in Emily’s bedroom when they were alone and persuaded him to put on her pair of light apricot frilly panties. As this required unity to take off her panties, Emily’s little brother agreed. Her brother naked but for the panties, Unity triggered a pre-arranged signal and Emily burst in with a camera and took plenty of photos. For fear of the photos being passed around his school, Emily’s little brother is now the slave of both the girls and Emily makes his life hell. The other weekend, the girls turned up at my door with Emily’s little brother and Unity asked if they could al spend some time in my spare bedroom. I noticed Unity pulling a large wooden hairbrush out of her bag as they made their way up the stairs.
I left them alone for almost three hours and did hear the sound of smacking from time to time. When they left, I could see Emily’s little brother had been crying. I felt completely at ease with the scenario. If I am enabling two young ladies to learn the delights of having a male slave to serve and to punish, I am surely adding wonderfully to their life education.
It was on hearing of the regime Emily has set up for her brother, that I christened her Unity’s bitch friend Emily. It is a term of endearment, I am very impressed by the dominance and despotism of young Emily.
1 was very interested in a letter that was written to me by a young man from Amsterdam. His name is Mike and he begged me to become the postal slave of my young niece Unity and her bitch friend Emily.
I am the black Mistress Pamela and I have given a detailed account over the years of my life with my large black fiance Royston and my small, white and very feminine she-male maid Candy Floss.
Firstly Mike, I have NO intention of forwarding your letter on to Miss Unity or Miss Emily. They are both too young and inexperienced to become involved with a pervert like you. I did however, show your letter to Unity’s mum, my elder sister
Nikki, and a few of our friends at a recent coffee morning and we all had a good laugh over it. Fancy a grown man of twenty wanting to be treated like shit by two young girls. But do not despair Mike, if your letter is true, as I hope that all letters to MADAME magazine are (though I doubt it) then it seems your very own sister is more than capable of taking you in hand and reducing you to what you obviously wish to be, a worthless slave to a dominant lady. As you claim that your sister reads this magazine I will address this letter to you both.
To begin with Mike, or Michelle, as 1 think I shall call you, you must show true remorse for your past deeds like insulting your sister’s friend and wanking into her knickers. (If I found Royston doing such a disgusting thing I would have his balls cut off. As I very seldom wear knickers, he is not tempted). Beg her forgiveness and ask her to punish you and make you her personal slave. I suggest your sister has her name tattooed on your chest, saying you are her property. My own maid wears a tattoo saying “I am Candy Floss, the Maid” across the top of her breasts so whoever pulls her dress down, off her shoulders can see her status in life. Candy also wears a silver bell , lock-on collar around her neck, rings in pierced ears and nipples and of course, her permanent penis restrainer. Any slacking in her domestic duties or failure to please will usually result in her receiving an over-the-knee spanking from Rovston or a hard caning from me. Have you ever experienced CP young Michelle? If not you are in for a real treat, especially when you buy your sister a nice, slender, riding crop and present it to her, on bended knee. If you dislike the idea of being owned by your sister, remember a true slave cannot choose his or her owner. At least you want to be a slave, unlike my feminine maid and Emily’s little brother, both in enforced servitude. Still, I am sure some embarrassing photos of you can ensure your true obedience and to prove her total control over you, Michelle, I hope you are given the honour of drinking golden nectar. With a tattoo emblem on your chest never again can you show yourself to young ladies, how they would scorn and ridicule you. Finally Michelle, in your letter it seems you work and have a job. I suggest your sister charges you a large fee for the privilege of being her slave. Seventy five per cent of your wage sounds fair to me, of course, she may insist you take a second job and take 150% of any money you earn.
I hope I’ve given you Michelle, and your sister something to think about, so do write again and let us know how you get on. No matter how mean your sister may be to you 1 am sure you are better off belong to her, rather than my niece and her friends.
Candy Floss is dead scared of Unity and with good reason. She loves tormenting my little slave for her amusement. Being at the mercy of a pretty but spiteful teenage girl must be very frightening. No task is too menial or degrading for Candy to perform. The other Sunday, Unity had popped around for a visit and we sat in the sitting room for a couple of hours, chatting and leafing through magazines. The whole time, Floss had been meticulously cleaning all the windows and mirrors in the large room. This is an especially onerous task for Floss as just one small smear will result in a very harsh caning. And it is clearly very hard to eradicate all smears. Unity had paid Floss almost no attention apart from barking orders for soft drinks or the like. Unity stood to leave and I think little Candy Floss thought she had got away lightly from a visit from Unity. However, Unity instructed Floss to get her a jar of Vaseline which Floss quickly did.
Unity then dipped her fingers into the pot and walked around the room, casually running a smear of petroleum jelly across every window and mirror. She and I then walked from the room leaving an almost tearful Floss to begin the glass cleaning all over again. As we walked from the room, Unity spoke to me in a loud voice. ‘You will cane the little bitch hard if the glass isn’t smear free in double-quick time, won’t you aunty? ‘ I smiled and agreed I would. Unity turned to Floss and gave her a stare of spitefulness and walked out.
I did give Floss a hard caning for taking too long (although she could not have done it any quicker), which had her crying and crying. I did not want to think of Unity being disappointed when I reported back to her.
Although 95% of Candy’s existence is spent in domestic drudgery she must also be prepared to perform more intimate duties of her black owners.
Quite recently 1 have discovered an exquisite way of making use of my maid’s tongue other than cunnilingus. After making love with Royston or Nikki 1 sometimes like to lie naked on the bed and have Candy lick me clean and remove any sweat that might have formed on my body from my exertions. Candy must remember it is an occasional treat to be allowed to lick my armpits, belly button and back of my neck and especially my shapely black bottom, pushing her tongue between the cheeks, along the crack and into the rear passage, removing any sweat and grime and musky scents. It is a lovely, pleasant feeling and I can recommend it to any dominant (or passive) lady. I sometimes wonder if black girls taste different to white girls? Candy in her lifelong servitude to a black family, certainly wouldn’t know.
Finally Candida, I would like to mention a subject that is very close to my heart. It is an unpleasant fact of life that most males and she-males masturbate and must be prevented from doing so whenever possible. This does not apply to women of course, who need some form of simple, sexual relief. Whenever Royston is away on business, or sometimes when he has displeased me, he must wear his penis restraint. It consists of a stainless steel tube (large size) which slips over the penis when soft. A metal ratchet style collar goes round the penis base and behind the balls and is adlocked on. It allows the wearer to pee when soft but stops ejaculation and even obtaining an erection is quite painful, or so I’ve been told. My maid Candy wears a similar device (extra small) permanently on her tiny penis. These restraints are simple and very effective.
I wish all males reading my reports could be controlled. How lovely it would be if their wives, girlfriends, mothers or sisters had their males’ cocks locked in tight restrainers, so when they got hard-ons from your lovely magazine they could not receive any relief but remain frustrated and very sorry for their past indiscretions. Mistress Melanie ordered her slaves to bury the keys to their restrainers and concrete over them. My suggestion to any loners interested would be to apply some superglue to your penis before you fit your restrainer (sorry Candida, I know you disapprove) then add a dab of superglue on the padlock before you snap it shut, and for good measure, throw the keys in the nearest river or canal. Then the next time you read this magazine you can feel the true power of women, in the most private and useless part of your body. Imagine your cock turning purple and blue as it strains against its restrainer and your balls hanging like two ripe plums as they never again release their load. In fact, the very thought of it has me damp and excited, so I will finish my letter now, hitch my dress up and give myself a good frigging. Are you men jealous? It’s just a cruel twist of fate that you were born a male. Lots of love and keep up the good work.