Teased and Denied on my Knees: A Punished Sissy Maid Bonus Book

We maids scurry frantically around the glamorous guests as they chatter and clink cocktail glasses and admire the scenery outside the palace. The Princess couldn't care less about us, but the Queen glares down with a furious intensity that communicates one thing: put even a single toe out of line, and the consequences will be severe.

Keeping my toes in line is part of the problem: my stilettos, a mandatory part of my uniform, keep sinking into the soft earth. Every other step makes me stagger, the glasses and plates on my silver tray rattling ominously, my skirts swaying around me. That, at least, seems to delight the women around me. Just another reminder that the cage between my legs reminds me exactly what I am here: decoration, amusement, property. One even heckles me, telling me I ought to drop a glass so she can see what color panties I have on when I pick them up. I almost snap something back at her before I catch a glimpse of the Queen's glower out of the corner of my eye and swallow the insult instead.

Hardly the only thing I swallowed today.