One afternoon, Sissy Jemima was – as usual – on her hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor. It was a thrice-daily task, because Mistress reasoned that it was a lot easier simply to have her sissy clean the floor than to waste too much time carefully wiping her feet. Just at the point when she was about half-way finished, there was a flash and a crack and she looked up to see a flustered, middle-aged lady floating in the air before her. Jemima – assuming this was one of Mistress’s friends and thinking nothing of the levitation except relief that her nice wet floor would not be sullied – bowed her head low and murmured a respectful greeting.
“No need to bow, James” the apparition said. “I’m your fairy godmother!”
Jemima wondered who she was speaking to. Then she remembered.
“Erm, it’s Jemima these days, Ma’am. Hasn’t been James for a very long time.”
“Very well” the Fairy Godmother replied. “And I’m Fairy Godmother, not ‘Ma’am’”
“Yes, Fairy Godmother” Jemima replied dutifully, happy that she was being given clear instructions.
“And I’m here to grant magical wishes!” the Fairy Godmother continued, brightly. “I was supposed to appear on your twenty-first birthday but… well, it’s been a bit busy, and anyway, better late than never, and here I am!”
“You get three wishes – your heart’s desire, anything you want!”
She looked around, then down at the figure in the pink maid’s dress outfit beneath her hovering feet. She noticed the short chain connecting the ankles. Using her fairy senses she could discern too the tightly-laced corset, as well as the steel tube nestling between whip-marked thighs beneath her god-sissy’s skirt. Looking around, she saw a piece of paper attached to the fridge door, with a table headed "Sissy Jemima's chores." It was a long list.
“You know…in case there’s anything in your life you’d like to change?” she suggested.
Sissy Jemima looked up. “Can I give my wishes to Mistress?”, she asked, eagerly.
“What? No – non-transferable” the Fairy Godmother replied, slightly taken aback.
“Oh…” the sissy said, looking worried. “Oh dear. Can I at least ask Mistress what I should choose?”
“Certainly not” the Fairy Godmother replied, more firmly. “You need to decide now – and time has stopped for your wife Sarah and everything in the world except you and me, here and now.”
Sissy Jemima glanced up at the clock and saw its second hand wasn’t moving. So there was no danger of her chore being finished late, which was a relief. Still, she felt a surge of panic at the thought of having to make a decision – three decisions! And she wasn't even allowed to ask Mistress. It had been a long time since she had made any decisions… she still vaguely recalled the big decision to sign the agreement with Mistress Sarah, but after that everything in her life had been fairly clear and straightforward, albeit not always easy.
“I wish that Mistress can have three wishes – a hundred wishes!” she ventured, but the Fairy Godmother shook her head.
“Doesn’t work like that – just wishes for yourself. You know: like Cinderella.”
The Fairy Godmother instantly regretted mentioning Cinderella, as she feared this simpering thing that James had become might wish to be swept off in a coach to dance with a handsome prince. Princes of any sort were in short supply in 21st-century London and the only one who could be described as even slightly handsome was already married and had renounced his position and decamped to Canada.
But Sissy Jemima was thinking along different lines. “Could I… do you think I might have a new scrubbing brush?” she asked, shyly.
“Really? Just that? Do you want... I don’t know, a magic scrubbing brush, maybe, that does the floor by itself? I can do that.”
Sissy Jemima shook her head. “Just the same as this one” she replied, indicating the battered and bleached wooden implement she had been using. “But new. See: the bristles are all bent.”
“Not that I’m complaining!” she added quickly. “I’m very lucky that Mistress lets me use this wonderful brush.”
The Fairy Godmother sighed, then waved her wand in the tiniest imaginable circle in the air. Shifting patterns of green and purple swirled in the air around the brush for a moment, then vanished. A brand-new wooden scrubbing brush, bristles standing tall and ready for use, lay before them on the half-cleaned floor.
“Thank you Ma’am” said Sissy Jemima automatically. “I mean, Fairy Godmother”.
There was silence for a moment, as both contemplated the new brush. Sissy Jemima began to feel uneasy.
“It’s very different, isn’t it” she remarked. “I hadn’t realised quite how much the bristles had bent. And it’s a different colour too – darker and varnished.”
“Exactly the same type of brush”, the Fairy Godmother replied. “£4.99 from any hardware shop… even cheaper at Tesco’s. Supernatural power to reshape the universe to your desires was in your hands, and you chose a new scrubbing brush. Can you try to be a little more ambitious with the remaining wishes? Riches, fame, love…?”
But Sissy Jemima wasn’t listening to her. She was staring at the brand-new brush with increasing disquiet.
“What if she notices?” she murmured. “I mean, she might not, but what if she does? And I hadn’t told her. Perhaps I ought to tell her? But then she’d be cross… I’m not allowed to ask for things.”
She shifted uneasily on her aching knees, feeling the cane marks on her bottom and thighs from last Friday’s 'reminder'.
“I shouldn’t have done that” she whispered, sadly. “I’m a bad, wicked sissy, ungrateful for the lovely brush Mistress gave me.”
“Oh get on with it.” the Fairy Godmother sighed. “Second wish – come on. The readers will be wondering whether this story’s worth persisting with.”
Jemima had a sudden flash of inspiration. “Could I – have the old brush back?” she asked, eagerly.
“Really?” the Fairy Godmother replied, raising an eyebrow. “You really want to have spent two of your three wishes that way?”
The sissy nodded vigorously. “Then I wouldn’t have done anything Mistress might not like, would I? Because I’d still have the same brush she gave me… so I wouldn’t have been a bad sissy at all!”
“Well…” she went on. “I suppose I would still have had the bad thoughts. But she might never find out about that.”
“Oh for god’s sake” the Fairy Godmother muttered, twiddled her wand back around in the opposite direction, and the rough unvarnished wood of the old brush lay before them once more.
“Third wish” she said, thinking she would never again object to over-extravagant wishes, or those that sought to reshape the fundamentals of the universe. “Come on. Something you really want. Something that would make you happy - you’re supposed to live happily ever after, you know? This is your one chance - don't waste it.”
Jemima shut her eyes tight and thought and thought. This wasn’t something she was used to and it gave her a bit of a headache. But just at the point when the Fairy Godmother was about to start making suggestions, she opened them again and looked up again, beaming with pleasure.
“I have it!” she said, and explained what she wanted.
“Are you sure?” the Fairy Godmother replied doubtfully. “Just that?”
“Oh yes” Sissy Jemima sighed. “That would make me happier than anything in the world.”
“Very well” the Fairy Godmother replied. “At least it’s not another fucking brush. Here we go.”
And she raised her wand.
*******************************************************************
“No need to bow, James” the apparition said. “I’m your fairy godmother!”
Jemima wondered who she was speaking to. Then she remembered.
“Erm, it’s Jemima these days, Ma’am. Hasn’t been James for a very long time.”
“Very well” the Fairy Godmother replied. “And I’m Fairy Godmother, not ‘Ma’am’”
“Yes, Fairy Godmother” Jemima replied dutifully, happy that she was being given clear instructions.
“And I’m here to grant magical wishes!” the Fairy Godmother continued, brightly. “I was supposed to appear on your twenty-first birthday but… well, it’s been a bit busy, and anyway, better late than never, and here I am!”
“You get three wishes – your heart’s desire, anything you want!”
She looked around, then down at the figure in the pink maid’s dress outfit beneath her hovering feet. She noticed the short chain connecting the ankles. Using her fairy senses she could discern too the tightly-laced corset, as well as the steel tube nestling between whip-marked thighs beneath her god-sissy’s skirt. Looking around, she saw a piece of paper attached to the fridge door, with a table headed "Sissy Jemima's chores." It was a long list.
“You know…in case there’s anything in your life you’d like to change?” she suggested.
Sissy Jemima looked up. “Can I give my wishes to Mistress?”, she asked, eagerly.
“What? No – non-transferable” the Fairy Godmother replied, slightly taken aback.
“Oh…” the sissy said, looking worried. “Oh dear. Can I at least ask Mistress what I should choose?”
“Certainly not” the Fairy Godmother replied, more firmly. “You need to decide now – and time has stopped for your wife Sarah and everything in the world except you and me, here and now.”
Sissy Jemima glanced up at the clock and saw its second hand wasn’t moving. So there was no danger of her chore being finished late, which was a relief. Still, she felt a surge of panic at the thought of having to make a decision – three decisions! And she wasn't even allowed to ask Mistress. It had been a long time since she had made any decisions… she still vaguely recalled the big decision to sign the agreement with Mistress Sarah, but after that everything in her life had been fairly clear and straightforward, albeit not always easy.
“I wish that Mistress can have three wishes – a hundred wishes!” she ventured, but the Fairy Godmother shook her head.
“Doesn’t work like that – just wishes for yourself. You know: like Cinderella.”
The Fairy Godmother instantly regretted mentioning Cinderella, as she feared this simpering thing that James had become might wish to be swept off in a coach to dance with a handsome prince. Princes of any sort were in short supply in 21st-century London and the only one who could be described as even slightly handsome was already married and had renounced his position and decamped to Canada.
But Sissy Jemima was thinking along different lines. “Could I… do you think I might have a new scrubbing brush?” she asked, shyly.
“Really? Just that? Do you want... I don’t know, a magic scrubbing brush, maybe, that does the floor by itself? I can do that.”
Sissy Jemima shook her head. “Just the same as this one” she replied, indicating the battered and bleached wooden implement she had been using. “But new. See: the bristles are all bent.”
“Not that I’m complaining!” she added quickly. “I’m very lucky that Mistress lets me use this wonderful brush.”
The Fairy Godmother sighed, then waved her wand in the tiniest imaginable circle in the air. Shifting patterns of green and purple swirled in the air around the brush for a moment, then vanished. A brand-new wooden scrubbing brush, bristles standing tall and ready for use, lay before them on the half-cleaned floor.
“Thank you Ma’am” said Sissy Jemima automatically. “I mean, Fairy Godmother”.
There was silence for a moment, as both contemplated the new brush. Sissy Jemima began to feel uneasy.
“It’s very different, isn’t it” she remarked. “I hadn’t realised quite how much the bristles had bent. And it’s a different colour too – darker and varnished.”
“Exactly the same type of brush”, the Fairy Godmother replied. “£4.99 from any hardware shop… even cheaper at Tesco’s. Supernatural power to reshape the universe to your desires was in your hands, and you chose a new scrubbing brush. Can you try to be a little more ambitious with the remaining wishes? Riches, fame, love…?”
But Sissy Jemima wasn’t listening to her. She was staring at the brand-new brush with increasing disquiet.
“What if she notices?” she murmured. “I mean, she might not, but what if she does? And I hadn’t told her. Perhaps I ought to tell her? But then she’d be cross… I’m not allowed to ask for things.”
She shifted uneasily on her aching knees, feeling the cane marks on her bottom and thighs from last Friday’s 'reminder'.
“I shouldn’t have done that” she whispered, sadly. “I’m a bad, wicked sissy, ungrateful for the lovely brush Mistress gave me.”
“Oh get on with it.” the Fairy Godmother sighed. “Second wish – come on. The readers will be wondering whether this story’s worth persisting with.”
Jemima had a sudden flash of inspiration. “Could I – have the old brush back?” she asked, eagerly.
“Really?” the Fairy Godmother replied, raising an eyebrow. “You really want to have spent two of your three wishes that way?”
The sissy nodded vigorously. “Then I wouldn’t have done anything Mistress might not like, would I? Because I’d still have the same brush she gave me… so I wouldn’t have been a bad sissy at all!”
“Well…” she went on. “I suppose I would still have had the bad thoughts. But she might never find out about that.”
“Oh for god’s sake” the Fairy Godmother muttered, twiddled her wand back around in the opposite direction, and the rough unvarnished wood of the old brush lay before them once more.
“Third wish” she said, thinking she would never again object to over-extravagant wishes, or those that sought to reshape the fundamentals of the universe. “Come on. Something you really want. Something that would make you happy - you’re supposed to live happily ever after, you know? This is your one chance - don't waste it.”
Jemima shut her eyes tight and thought and thought. This wasn’t something she was used to and it gave her a bit of a headache. But just at the point when the Fairy Godmother was about to start making suggestions, she opened them again and looked up again, beaming with pleasure.
“I have it!” she said, and explained what she wanted.
“Are you sure?” the Fairy Godmother replied doubtfully. “Just that?”
“Oh yes” Sissy Jemima sighed. “That would make me happier than anything in the world.”
“Very well” the Fairy Godmother replied. “At least it’s not another fucking brush. Here we go.”
And she raised her wand.
*******************************************************************
 |
| In case you were wondering what Mistress Sarah looks like: she looks like this. |
Two hours later, Sissy Jemima was standing slightly to the right of the back of her Mistress’s armchair, feet neatly together, her hands clasped before her. Mistress Sarah reached out for the cup of tea at the table to her right and took a sip.
There was a pause, during which Sissy Jemima hoped that her thudding heart was not audible.
“Very good, sissy!” Mistress Sarah remarked, with some surprise. “You actually managed not to stew the tea for once – and you haven’t made it too strong or too weak either.”
She took another sip.
“And just about the right amount of milk, too.” she added. “Now if only you could make every cup like that, sissy.”
“Perhaps I will, from now on Mistress.” Jemima replied, her voice quavering slightly as her heart tried to burst with unaccustomed pride.
“Well, we’ll have to see, won't we?” her Mistress said, not sounding too optimistic. “But well done for this one, sissy. Footstool!”
So Sissy Jemima got down on all fours and crawled in front of her, to receive the welcome weight of her Mistress’s legs across her pink-clad back. She smiled a secret smile to herself, as Mistress continued to sip the tea with satisfaction.
And she lived happily – except, obviously, during weekly 'reminders', additional punishments and the occasional visits by Mistress Sarah’s sister – ever after.
THE END
 |
| Mistress Sarah's sister - pictured here on the left - likes tea, too. Sissy Jemima hoped that it would help mellow her attitude towards lazy, incompetent sissies a bit, but it turns out she doesn't like tea that much. |
Addendum
 |
| This is not a picture of Sissy Jemima. This is Sissy Peggy and unlike Sissy Jemima, Sissy Peggy used her wishes unwisely. In particular, she used one wish to get the frilliest, froo-froo-est maid's dress ever - but neglected to use another wish to ensure Mistress did not react badly when she came home and saw her sissy husband wearing this monstrosity. |
Silly sissy, there is all that ironing on the ironing board waiting to be done. I am sure that Fairy Godmother could have whisked through that in no time at all but anyway, full marks for Sissy Jemima for working out how he could really please Mistress Sarah, although Mistress Sarah's sister probably likes her tea with a bit less milk, as Jemima will find out.
ReplyDeleteYes indeed. Actually, it was only after the Fairy Godmother departed that Jemima suddenly realised she could have asked for less ironing. But the devil makes work for idle hands, so they say, so it's probably better this way. That's why her sister started dropping her laundry off on her weekly visits, after all.
DeleteMany thanks for commenting, Melissa.
Best wishes
S