Not happy

The atmosphere in the office shifts once more, and you can feel the tension in the air. Emily and Eleanor exchange glances, their expressions darkening as they inspect your work. You’re acutely aware of every eye on you, the weight of their scrutiny making your skin crawl.

“Megan, can you step aside for a moment?” Emily commands, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Megan nods and moves away, her curiosity piqued. You stand still, heart pounding, wondering what they have planned for you this time. Emily approaches your work area, hands on her hips, surveying the remnants of your cleaning.

“What is this?” she snaps, pointing to a stack of papers that is slightly askew. “You call this clean? This is a disaster, Tom.”

“I—I thought I did a good job,” you stammer, embarrassment flooding your system.

“Clearly, you didn’t,” Eleanor interjects, stepping forward to inspect the floor where you’d missed some dust. “This is pathetic. Do you really expect us to believe you’re capable of handling any responsibilities in this office?”

You look down, biting your lip, feeling the humiliation rise. “I’ll do better, I promise. Just give me another chance.”

Emily shakes her head, a wicked smile creeping across her face. “No, I think we need to escalate things a little. If you can’t even manage basic cleaning, then clearly, you need more motivation.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, dread creeping in.

Eleanor gestures towards a pile of clothing in the corner of the room. “You need a reminder of your place, Tom. Something that truly reflects your new role as our maid.”

Your stomach drops as you step closer, eyes widening at the sight of an even more humiliating outfit than the one you’re currently wearing. It’s a revealing ensemble, complete with a short, frilly dress that barely covers your thighs and an apron that accentuates your figure. The fabric is sheer, and the color is bright pink—far from the demure maid look you’d previously donned.

“No, please, I can’t wear that,” you protest, desperation leaking into your voice. “I’ve already humiliated myself enough today!”

Emily laughs, the sound cutting and mocking. “You think this is humiliation? Oh, sweet Tom, we’re just getting started. You need to truly embrace your position. This is what you’ll be wearing from now on.”

Eleanor steps closer, her eyes narrowing. “If you can’t handle this, perhaps you should reconsider your place in our little arrangement. You’re no longer a businessman; you’re our servant. You need to dress the part.”

The humiliation crashes over you like a wave, and you feel your knees weaken. “But this is too much! I can’t go out there like this!”

“Too much?” Emily echoes, leaning in closer. “You haven’t seen anything yet. If you’re going to serve us, you need to look the part. Now, change into that outfit. We’ll give you a moment.”

With that, they step back, arms crossed and expressions expectant. You feel trapped, the pressure mounting. There’s a part of you that wants to defy them, to walk out and reclaim your dignity, but the thought of the consequences keeps you rooted in place.

“Okay, okay,” you say finally, your voice shaking. “I’ll do it.”

“Good choice,” Eleanor says with a satisfied smile. “And don’t take too long. We’re waiting.”

You turn to the restroom, the fabric of your current maid outfit feeling increasingly suffocating. As you enter the small space, you glance at yourself in the mirror again, your heart pounding in your chest.

The sight of the new outfit fills you with dread. It’s absurdly revealing, and you can’t shake the feeling of vulnerability that envelops you. But deep down, beneath the layers of humiliation, there’s a flicker of something else—something that has begun to awaken since your submission began.

You change quickly, slipping into the new ensemble, the fabric clinging to your skin. The hem of the dress sits high on your thighs, and the apron does little to cover you. You take a deep breath, adjusting the bodice and trying to quell the sense of panic rising within you.

As you step back into the office, you can feel the eyes of Emily and Eleanor on you, their expressions a mixture of amusement and satisfaction.

“Now that’s more like it,” Emily remarks, her voice dripping with condescension. “You look like you finally understand your role.”

You shift uncomfortably under their gaze, the heat flooding your cheeks. “I can’t believe I’m wearing this,” you mumble, glancing down at the outfit.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised,” Eleanor replies, crossing her arms. “You’ve been begging for this. You wanted to be put in your place, and now you are. Embrace it, Tom.”

Just then, Megan returns, her eyes widening as she takes in your new appearance. “Wow, they really went all out this time,” she says, a mix of shock and amusement in her tone. “You look… interesting.”

You feel the heat of embarrassment creeping back as she smirks at you. “I can’t believe you’re actually wearing that.”

“Not my choice,” you reply, forcing a laugh to hide your discomfort.

Emily steps forward, hands on her hips. “From now on, this is how you’ll present yourself in the office. You’ll run errands, clean up after us, and you’ll do it all in this outfit. Got it?”

You nod, the weight of their expectations pressing down on you. “Got it.”

“Good,” Eleanor says, a satisfied grin on her face. “Now let’s see how well you can serve us in that little getup.”

You begin to move around the office, a mix of shame and submission coursing through you. The laughter from your colleagues follows you as you attend to your tasks, the sound both painful and thrilling.

With each step, you can feel the eyes on you, the stares filled with a mix of disbelief and amusement. You’ve become the center of attention, and while it’s embarrassing, a part of you begins to crave the thrill of it. You’ve surrendered yourself completely, and the humiliation starts to feel oddly liberating.

As you scrub a floor tile, Emily leans against the wall, watching you with a smirk. “See? You’re finally starting to get into the spirit of things,” she teases, her tone light but laced with authority.

“Maybe you should have more faith in your abilities,” Eleanor adds, walking over to inspect your work. “After all, you’re just a maid now.”

You bite your lip, forcing a smile even as your heart races. “I’ll do my best,” you reply, the submission settling more comfortably into your psyche.

As the day progresses, you find yourself falling deeper into your role. The embarrassment fades into the background as you clean and serve, the thrill of being so exposed and **** becoming almost intoxicating. It’s a strange blend of feelings, but you can’t deny the excitement that builds inside you.

Emily and Eleanor exchange knowing glances, their satisfaction evident as they watch you navigate your new reality. You’ve embraced your place, and as you kneel to pick up another piece of trash, the weight of your submission feels oddly comforting.

In this moment, as your colleagues giggle and poke fun, you realize that perhaps you’ve found a strange sense of freedom in your new role—a liberation from the expectations of your old life, where you had to constantly prove yourself. Here, you’re just Tom, the maid, and for the first time in a long time, you feel at peace with that identity.