Crossing Texas – Chapter Nine
Thankfully my situation improved somewhat after Sunday evening’s low point.
Monday morning Sara stopped by my room, told me to not worry as Amanda had left for a couple of days to visit relatives. She said that Amanda would ease up on me once I proved to her that I was a good worker. Sara helped me dress properly, and taught me a bit about applying makeup.
“You’ve got a lot to learn, Pamela,” she said.
“Being a girl takes a lot of skill.”
Soon I was smartly dressed in the former maid’s uniform, a one piece dress, almost like a nurses uniform, colored gray with pink pinstripes. I had assumed that as a maid I would be allowed to wear the slacks I had worn yesterday. However, Sara said that Amanda thought it more appropriate that I wear the maid’s dress while on duty. Which, of course, meant I also wore pantyhose, something I found to be most uncomfortable.
Sara also suggested I wear a panty girdle, as it would hide the effect of any “excitement” like that of the previous evening. I blushed at her comment.
Sara and I went to the hotel’s restaurant for breakfast.
“Maybe it’s a good thing Amanda had to leave, Pamela. It’ll take some of the pressure off you while you adjust to your new situation.
“Yes, Mistress Sara,” I replied, “you can’t imagine how relieved I am that Mistress Amanda isn’t here.”
“But she did leave me detailed instructions which I’m required to follow, Pamela.”
“I understand, Mistress Sara. Am I required to use “Mistress” if Amanda is not present?”
“Yes, Pamela. I know you must feel silly having to say “Mistress” over and over, like you’re some type of slave girl. But Amanda insists, and she’s the boss. Anyway,” Sara continued, smiling so beautifully, “I’m beginning to enjoy it.” She reached her hand and gently patted my shoulder.
“It gives me a feeling of power that I’ve never had before.”
“At my expense, Mistress,” I noted sadly.
“True,” but Amanda is right. It’s really all your fault.
Yes, Mistress Sara, I suppose it is,” I replied.
After finishing a dainty breakfast (“Amanda’s orders,” Sara said, “she says all girls your age are dieting, and you should too!), Sara took me around and introduced me, one by one, to the other workers.
First was Tanya, a young Russian immigrant working the front desk. She was very pretty, slim with long dark hair and green eyes, and a sensuous foreign accent. Because she worked at the front desk, Tanya dressed nicely.
Mary was a 30-something married woman who worked in the kitchen and also cleaned rooms. I also met Amy, a petite, young high school girl. Sara mentioned that Amy and two other girls from a nearby high school worked part-time, doing most anything asked of them.
Given my situation, each introduction was most uncomfortable for me, and I noticed my coworkers were also a bit embarrassed during the introductions. Following Amanda’s instructions, Sara introduced me as the “new girl” and mentioned how appreciative I was to be the motel’s full-time maid. Each of my coworkers was told that if they needed anything, I would respond immediately. Each was also told that, as a maid, I was required to address each of my coworkers as “Mistress”. Then Sara would mention that I was fairly new to the “sisterhood of females” and I would greatly appreciate any tips they might be able to offer as to how I might become more feminine.
Although these introductions were humiliating, I was thankful Sara did not mention the rape. Sara told me that it must be kept secret; I must never mention it to anyone. If word of the rape got out, Amanda would have no choice but to get the police involved.
My coworkers were either too surprised, or stunned, to ask any questions.
Only Amy, the high school girl, was bold (or naive) enough to say anything.
“I don’t understand, Sara, what do you mean by sisterhood?” she asked.
“Is Pamela your sister?”
“No, Amy,” Sara laughed, “Pamela is not my sister! Pam, maybe you should explain yourself to Amy.”
“Yes, Mistress Sara,” I replied hesitantly.
“Well, you see, Mistress Amy, I am, well, sort of male, but I’m now becoming like you, a girl like you, maybe..”
“Becoming a girl?”
“Yes, yes, but maybe not just like you. You are more girl than I am, of course. I mean, anatomically, I’m still not really., female, but I’ve just decided to dress like girls, do you understand?”
“Oh, I get it! You’re one of those sissy boys that like to wear dresses. I see! Well that’s really neat, Pamela. And you’re kinda cute.”
“Thank you, Mistress Amy,” I said.
“Let’s go, Pamela, time you got to work, girl,” said Sara.
“Yes, Mistress,” I said, then turned and said “Bye, Mistress Amy.”
It was Mary, middle-aged mother of two daughters, who was assigned to teach me how to be a motel maid. We started in Room 211, a second floor room with two beds.
“Yes, Mistress Mary, I see,” I said as she showed me how to make a perfect bed. Mary watched while I struggled to do the same.
“I wonder what Pam, the real Pam, I mean, will say when she finds out that a guy is wearing her dresses and using her name?” I didn’t respond.
“Although Pam rarely wore the dresses. She preferred slacks. Apparently Pam wasn’t as feminine as you,” Mary said sarcastically.
“Mistress Amanda prefers I wear dresses, Mistress Mary,” I said, avoiding her gaze.
“And does Amanda prefer you wear high heels, mascara, and nail polish? Most motel maids don’t, you know.”
“But, I prefer to look my best, Mistress,” I replied, stealing a quick glance at her.
Mary rolled her eyes, exasperated.
“Well, you look more like a hooker than a maid. Let me warn you, sissy, and I’ll warn you only once. My husband drops me off and picks me up here, every day. He knows all the workers here, and he flirts with them all. He’ll probably flirt with you, too. But if you so much as glance at him, or say anything more than “Hello”; if you should wink at him, or ever so slightly raise your skirt, or lick your lips., whatever., I will find out, sissy, and I’ll scratch that pretty face of yours so badly that no guy will ever want you!”
Stunned by Mary’s outburst, I tried to apologize, but she left me to finish the room on my own.
The End of Crossing Texas – Chapter Nine.
The story originally came from: https://www.dailydiapers.com/content/stories.html
If you want to read more stories about ABDL boys you can find a list here: Diaper Boys – Index