Oh,,,,,,,, so helpless

The ankle straps of her five inch heels connected by a short chain and secured in place with tiny padlocks. A virtually unnoticeable black cable secured around her waist held the shiny steel handcuffs that pulled her silken gloved hands behind her, leaving white glossy fingers resting on the very large white satin bow that in turn hung across and down the short black silky smooth skirts and numerous frilly petticoat layers of her French maid uniform. Zipped to the neck and edged in brilliant white lace frills, the locked bodice of her dress was clinging tightly over the uplifted bosom and corseted waist. More white lace frills and gleaming satin sat pinned on her short coiffure bob. With perfect makeup her bright painted lips bordered a white ball secured with two thin straps which locked a replica penis into her gagging mouth. Movements from her hips, the skirts rustle and she starts to squirm, the second replica penis locked into her behind has started to twist, thrust and vibrate. But she wants some release, it’s in her eyes, wrists secure and steel chastity sitting tight and smooth beneath her white satin panties with all that luscious frilly lace there is no option, she remains frustrated.

She had never gone this far before, never with ankles chained so close, never with wrists cuffed behind her and most definitely never with her means of release safely stored in another room. It had been weeks in planning, her flat mate was away on business and he wouldn’t be back for days, it was ideal, and now she was reaping the benefits of that careful preparation. Powerless, a damsel in distress, all the fantasy was now real and the rhythmic thrusting of the hidden replica penis was creating both a level of ecstasy and a frustrating diversion to her thoughts. I could see it in her eyes she needed the vibrating to stop before she could think.

But then, in an instant, she was snapped out of her fantasy.

A noise, the front door with its familiar creak, oh my god. At the same time she feels a sudden dampness, and is slipping into reality. She is he, no she is me. I stand looking in the mirror and again feel the slow gush that is now starting to fill my silky panties.