G Is for Gemma

"OK," said David, inspecting me as soon as he'd let me in and closed the door. "You'll do. I'm not expecting any visitors tonight so I'm going to watch the football. You can do the washing for me. OK?"

I had no choice. He was a typically untidy bachelor, kitchen rather grubby, clothes all over the bedroom floor. Obviously he'd decided that I could be his slave, his domestic help, his maid or whatever - he'd get his house looked after for free. So I did the washing and some of the clearing up in the kitchen. And it didn't stop at that. Every week maybe twice a week, for nearly two months, he'd ring me up in the evening. I'd have to get dressed up and go round and do chores, ironing, cleaning, cooking, washing, even get him beers from the fridge and so on.

I've never been the totally subservient kind of tranny but I have to admit that at first it wasn't too bad. Not exactly fun but bearable. For a few weeks that is, but as he became more demanding it got more difficult. I was spending too much time dealing with David's problems and not enough doing my own stuff. My own social life such as it was vanished. Yet one Friday evening, as I was finishing doing his washing-up and dusting the living room, coincidence started to intervene.

"OK sissy. I want you round here again tomorrow night. My suit needs pressing and that white shirt you've just washed will need ironing. I need to look my best on Sunday, it's the Rugby club party and I need to pull. So be here again, eight o'clock."

It was his next statement which, surprisingly, opened up everything for me.

"And you look a mess tonight, tart yourself up a bit. I don't like looking at a messy tart doing my chores."

The nerve of the guy, even though I knew he was right. I'd not been so careful, much of the fun had gone out of dressing. David seemed so unappreciative of my efforts and now he was criticising my dress sense and my make-up and so on. OK, I'd let it slip my standards of femininity but what did he expect? What he did expect I didn't know but, changing back a few minutes later back in my little flat, I began to formulate some sort of plan.