Copyright 2020 Christopher D.B.

This story is written by Christopher D.B, please send comments and appreciation to christopherdb113@gmail.com
Note from the author: This story is part two of a series. Please read the original story, Sissy and Missy, which can be found here at FemdomCity.

“Now you’ve been crying like a little girl and ruined your makeup. You need to fix that right away before eating your lunch. Don’t you think of snitching to Countess,” she warned. “Just consider yourself lucky that I didn’t leave you cuffed to that radiator with a big butt plug up your ass.” Then Missy left the office.

Putting on my maid’s uniform, I saw that my quick repair from early this morning had been ripped loose. I was pretty sure I might cry again, and really didn’t want to fix my makeup yet. However, another client would probably come in just a little while, so this was the time to get my makeup bag from my locker.

I did my makeup in the small women’s restroom on the second floor. There is a little shelf by the sink in there to set my bag on, and the jar of cold cream. Looking at myself in the mirror, my pink ruffled maid’s uniform, the old pale pink tiles on the wall of the ladies restroom, I felt foolish. I had really enjoyed cross dressing but Missy had made me feel guilty about it. Somehow ruined it for me, at least for the day. That little bitch!

When I returned to the office suite and took my lunch from the paper sack, I saw that instead of the fries I had asked for, Missy had gotten me the onion rings. They turned out to be really good, but as I finished my lunch, I vowed to somehow take my own revenge against Missy. As I resumed cleaning, a plan came together.

I waited until I heard the next client come in the door and up the stairs, and then head up to the top floor after changing in the locker room. Then I waited about ten more minutes to be certain a session would be underway.

In the locker room, I opened the window and looked into the narrow alley below. Missy’s cigarette butt had to be on the pavement down there, but I didn’t see it. Maybe she had given it a good flick with her fingers instead of dropping it. Still, it would be down there, and I was going to retrieve it.

Now I thought about removing my makeup and changing into my normal clothes. Going out the front door but leaving it slightly propped open with something, but that would take too long. Going out the front door in my maid’s uniform might attract unwanted attention so that was also not an option.

At the back end of the hallway is a large window with a few short steps up to the sill, and outside is a metal fire escape anchored to the side of the building. The window opened easily and I looked at the small parking area below. My old Mercedes was down there, along with a few other vehicles, but all were unoccupied. No one from the shops on the first floor taking a smoke break out the back door. The surrounding buildings, their back windows were blank, vacant or closed for the weekend.

I momentarily went back to the janitor’s closet. Hanging on the wall, coiled up, was a thick bright orange extension cord. Slinging it over my shoulder, I went out onto the fire escape.

The thin soles of my silver metallic flats felt a little uncertain on the metal grating of the fire escape. From the metal landing outside the window, I descended a short flight of steps to a second landing. Here there was a stairway that went down to the ground, but it was raised and would hinge down as you walked upon it. I had never used one of these before and only seen them operated on movies and TV shows.

I took my first cautious steps out onto the tilted stair treads. The fire escape stair began to swing down slowly, and with surprisingly little sound despite the heavy rust. I paused on the bottom step.

Shrugging the heavy extension cord off my shoulder, I uncoiled it, and started to tie one end of it to the base of the railing. Knowing the stairway had a counterweight and would swing back up once I got off, I would be stuck outside the building. Having a rope to pull the stair back down would have been perfect, but since I had none I thought I could improvise with the extension cord.

The thick wire was difficult to tie and really couldn’t be pulled into a snug knot. I retied it in a sloppy double knot. Stepping off the bottom stair, I let the cord slide through my hands as the stairway raised up off the ground. I wasn’t sure how long the extension cord was, and was afraid it might slip out of my hands and end up dangling just out of reach. That didn’t happen though. The end of the extension cord hung about six feet off the ground.

Feeling I had taken a lot of time rigging the fire escape, I went right into the alley, only then thinking that I should have peeked around the corner of the building first. It didn’t matter. No one was there. While cars passed on the street, it was unlikely that I would be seen.

Standing below the locker room window, I began my search for Missy’s cigarette butt. There were a few butts on the ground here, however all of them were weathered, and none were smeared with Missy’s lipstick.

The search seemed to take forever, but at last I found a fresh cigarette butt, clearly imprinted with Missy’s distinctive reddish black lipstick. It had somehow bounced and landed partially hidden behind a downspout on the building across the alley. Carefully picking it up, I went back to the fire escape.

My knot held firmly as I pulled down the metal stairs as planned. I got back inside the second floor window and returned the extension cord without incident. Thinking that I had taken too long, I left the cigarette butt on a high shelf in the janitor’s closet, and went back to my chores.

I waited until the next client was upstairs and some time passed to make sure his session had began. With Missy’s cigarette butt in hand, I went up the stairs as silently as I could to the third floor. The door off the landing was locked as expected, but I knew that a key was hidden under a potted plastic plant off to one side.

Countess Tori has a spacious apartment that occupies the entire third floor. It’s fully furnished and has some of her personal items, but I know she only stays here a few nights a week. I usually dust and vacuum in here on days that I serve the Countess.

I went to her bedroom at the back of the apartment. It has a private bathroom with a small window. I opened that window a few inches, and placed Missy’s cigarette butt on the sill in clear view.

Sure that smoking was not allowed in the building, if Missy had been caught in the client’s locker room, I doubt that her punishment would be severe. However, I doubted that Missy would even be allowed to use Countess Tori’s private bathroom, so smoking in there would be a serious offense. It was a shame that I would likely not be around to witness Missy being punished. I locked the apartment and returned to my office cleaning.

There might have been only an hour left before I would be dismissed, and as that time went by I thought of holes in my plan to get Missy in trouble. I had been so obsessed in my planning of how to get in and out of the building undetected, that I gave little thought to how credible my frame-up job for Missy would appear to Countess Tori.

Even if Missy had a smoke in the Countess’s private bathroom, she wouldn’t be so careless as to not flush her cigarette butt down the toilet or flick it out the window. Countess Tori would have to know I was trying to set Missy up, and who knows what effect that would have on me.
Unless Missy had smoked in Countess Tori’s private bathroom sometime today, once confronted by the Countess, it would be obvious to Missy that I had tried to frame her. She would be all too delighted to whip my ass again.

I was seriously contemplating slipping back up to the apartment and knocking that cigarette butt out the window, but then both Countess Tori and Missy walked into the office. Although I’m sure I visibly jumped, Countess calmly told me to continue my vacuuming while she inspected the suite of offices.

Missy just stood by the door to the hallway with a menacing look on her face. Were sessions over for the day and both of them had made a stop in the apartment already? I tried to remain calm but felt my level of anxiety rising.

Countess Tori came back into the room and made a slow inspection. At last she said that my work was satisfactory, and that I was to follow them upstairs to help Missy straighten up the play space.

The Countess walked slowly up the stairs. Thinking that my plan to frame Missy may have been busted and I might be walking into some punishment session, the slow pace was agonizing. Countess was in the lead, of course, followed my Missy, and I brought up the rear.

Countess Tori was wearing a different pair of thigh high boots now. Black leather with elaborate stitching in dark blue swirls all the way up the tall shafts. I also noticed that Missy’s ass, bare except for the narrow strip of shiny black PVC wedged between her butt cheeks, had a few small red welts on it, as if she had taken a few licks from Countess Tori’s riding crop. Not enough evidence of a serious punishment session.

It was then that I realized that if Countess intended to punish me, she would likely discover some welts on my ass, still visible after the whipping that Missy had given me earlier in the day. There was some comfort in that, thinking I might get an opportunity to explain my motive for revenge and plead for forgiveness, or at least leniency.

Countess led us to a large open area on the top floor. It had been partially under construction for as long as I had worked for her, and it served as sort of a general purpose dungeon. There were a few pieces of bondage furniture, and a number of whips and paddles hanging on the wall.
An antique chair, refinished in glossy red vinyl padding and metallic silver paint served as a throne on a low raised platform in one corner of the room. A number of pairs of high heeled boots and shoes were scattered around the base of the throne, whips and paddles seemed to be lying around at random. The last session here had been something intense, possibly with more than one submissive.

“Missy will put away the footwear and equipment,” Countess Tori explained. “Sissy, you will sweep the floor and wipe down the furniture.”

“Yes, Countess,” we both answered quietly. Countess Tori then walked out of the room.

Missy gave me an ice cold glance, then went over to the throne and began to pick up shoes and boots. They went on some open shelves off to one side.

The floor in this room is of wide wooden planks in desperate need of refinishing. Although the floor looked clean, the cracks and crevices always held grit and dust, so sweeping always took a bit more effort than expected.

The two of us worked in silence. I had expected Missy to make some sort of whispered threats or trash talk, but instead she would periodically cast quick glances at the open doorway to the hallway, as if she thought Countess Tori might be listening to make sure we were working and not chatting.

When Missy finished her work, she knelt in front of the empty throne. I was done a short time later. Though I wasn’t sure what to do next, kneeling beside Missy seemed like the right thing to do.

“We’re finished, Countess Tori,” Missy called out.

Countess Tori quickly appeared all too quickly. She must have been standing just around the corner hoping to bust us for talking.
Her high heeled boots sounded wonderful as she walked across the wooden floor, and then took her seat on the throne.

“Worship my boots, children,” she ordered.

I was all too happy to worship her boots, and I could feel the swirled stitches with my tongue as I gave the shaft long slow licks. It was odd to be literally rubbing shoulders with Missy as she worshiped the other boot.

Missy had a different boot worshiping technique, a quick series of light pecking kisses. It made me wonder if Countess Tori preferred that and maybe I should use that fashion in the near future.

“Sissy, you are dismissed for the day,” Countess said.

“Thank you, Countess Tori,” I replied softly, and I got up to leave. When I left the room, Missy was still worshiping her thigh high boots.

Descending the stairs, I remembered what I thought were all the flaws in my plan to frame Missy for smoking. I paused on the third floor landing and looked at the potted plastic plant where the key to the apartment was hidden.

Perhaps I could enter quickly and snatch that cigarette butt off the window sill. However, if Countess Tori came down the stairs and caught me in her apartment, I’d be screwed. Of course I could slip out onto her fire escape and get down to the second floor that way, though I was pretty sure I had locked the escape window on the second floor.

Should I go for it, or just leave my original plan in motion? As I stood on the landing, my mind racing, I knew I was losing valuable time.

-To be continued-