Introduction
Blog of sissy maid barbie, live-in maid to Mistress Lady Penelope.
I am Mistress Lady Penelope’s 24/7 live-in sissy maid barbie. Mistress has asked me to begin a blog for the purposes of both recording my life and entertaining anyone who might perhaps decide to read my ramblings. Maybe to make some sense of what drives people like me to engage in some of the things we adore, namely crossdressing, submission, being feminine/sissy, bondage etc.
I am the holder of certain knowledge which I will not be shining a light upon, so you should regard this blog as largely based on truth. I bear the secrets of myself and others, including my Mistress and even official secrets which it would be treason for me to reveal. Unlike the wartime workers at Bletchley Park (a place I do actually have a slight connection to), I have not been released from my duty to keep secrets.
Some things you can rely upon are that I am a live-in sissy maid to a dominant lady who goes by the pseudonym of Mistress Lady Penelope, just as I go by the pseudonym of sissy maid barbie or sometimes Miss Barbie. Barbie is a name Mistress Lady Penelope has given me and yes I am named affectionately after Mistress’ childhood doll, and like my namesake, Mistress does dress me up, the difference being that I am her living breathing walking talking living doll as the song goes, rather than pieces of inanimate plastic.
It is true, as a sissy maid I am submissive to Mistress Lady Penelope though to a few others I can be a switcher. I expect you find it hard to believe, but I swear I am not lying when I say I am still a virgin. Hence the title maid or maiden is not inappropriate and I must point out in Shakespear’s time the word maiden also applied to males.
Whilst I think some of the female roles in his plays may have been acted by male maidens, I suspect some may have been played by homosexuals but I can say categorically that, that I am not. I am a straight male like most of Mistress Lady Penelope’s clients, though I should state that Mistress does not discriminate against gay or transitioning people. They are welcome.
It is also true that this full time sissy maid’s quarters are downstairs from Mistress Lady Penelope, the house being built on a hill and looks like a bungalow from the front but hidden behind there is a lower ground floor partly underground where I sleep, cook my meals and live when not needed by my Mistress. This neatly mirrors the TV program ‘Upstairs Downstairs’ where lords and ladies resided in grand style upstairs with high ceilings and their domestic servants downstairs under low ceilings (though in the program, the servants slept in the attic rooms).
I believe this arrangement is fairly unique and that many readers may be envious of me, as a live-in 24/7 sissy maid to a naturally dominant lady, who I serve and whose home I look after and also assist in her hobby of fulfilling the desires of similar people to, for a few short hours, submit to my Mistress.
I also assist Mistress to give clients of the crossdressing service a makeover and dress them in feminine attire. To me as a sissy maid, they are Mistress’ equals and I obey them acting as their lady’s sissy maid. Some readers may pity me but in the words of another song “I am what I am, I don’t want praise, I don’t want pity”. Well actually it would be nice to have some praise or at least some encouragement to continue this blog.
‘Miss’ Barbie on the steps from the basement servant’s quarters up to Mistress Lady Penelope’s much grander floor above. Barbie is wearing a ‘Bridgerton’ style dress.
I am not sure how regular this blog will be, maybe monthly to start with but serving Mistress Lady Penelope as her sissy maid is always my highest priority so writing is done in my rare ‘spare’ time.
You may be wondering how I came to be in this enviable position. Well I will get to that in later posts but let me start long before I became a sissy maid, I will restrict myself to the relevant facts. Events in my life which have made me into what I am.
I will start at the beginning of my journey to becoming sissy maid barbie. I know traditionally a blog covers very recent events so I am sorry if you are offended by me starting at the beginning but I will get around to recent things and Mistress Lady Penelope says she enjoyed reading my history. I can guaranteed these post about my life before becoming a sissy maid are all true to the best of my knowledge.
Early life up to age 11.
When tiny, I naturally had a teddy bear like every baby. Mine was bigger than the infant me and was orange. Two or three years later, for some reason I had some orange rope, sash cord maybe or it may have left over from my long deceased great Aunt’s art and craft shop which my father had cleared after her death. Anyway, in my mind the teddy bear and the rope were the same colour and that seemed significant to my young mind so I put the two together and tied up my teddy bear with the rope.
I must have done this many times because eventually it was noticed and the teddy bear was taken away from me and disposed of. Not my parent’s wisest move because they left me the rope and I started tying myself up instead.
I was given a cowboy set, maybe a lone ranger set, it consisted of holster, alloy pretend 6 shooter with little explosive caps, probably cowboy clothes too but most significantly there were handcuffs. They were easy to open and I used to get people to put them on me and see their (pretend) surprise when I escaped from them. These handcuffs were taken away from me too.
I started to wrap my wrists in chain with a padlock in a figure of eight and I would twist my wrists around so the figure of eight turned into a circle and could once more escape. Someone then put the padlock where the chains crossed and I was trapped. Maybe I liked it but was probably frustrated, I just cannot remember now.
Anyway, I was now into bondage. When trying to get to sleep at night I imagined tying up or chaining up people who I did not like and hurting them. Then tying up girls which excited me even though I was in primary school and nowhere near puberty. I saw television news with reports on violence done by evil people and knew I did not want to end up doing such terrible things to other people.
In an attempt to stop myself being evil like the perpetrators, I deliberately tried to think about what it would be like to be on the receiving end. I started to actually like the idea and made myself submissive, to like being in bondage and to a small degree masochistic too. Decades later when I realised others also liked these things, I found I could ‘switch’ my original nature back on again but only in instances when I knew that others wanted this and consented to me behaving in such outwardly bad ways.
Back when I was three years old, my Father began to teach me many things including card games and chess. By the time I was four, I could play both to a reasonable standard, good enough to beat my considerably elder siblings anyway.
I started school and the first year we just played. I often used building blocks to build towers taller than me, then I knocked them over. Second year they tried to teach reading but I was slow to learn so my parents arranged for the next door neighbours, who were both teachers, to help me catch up, which I did.
One of my early school reports said I was clever but was terrified of failing. I don’t think I ever overcame that fully.
One day two teachers were both teaching a small group of the class and one of them said to me “I know you are xxxxxx but that doesn’t mean you can’t do this”. I did not recognise the word I have quoted as xxxxxx, nor can I remember how the word sounded but I said ‘what is xxxxxx’ to which the more senior teacher shushed her junior and tried to whisper, but I heard her say ‘He doesn’t know’ and they changed the subject. Many years later I told Mistress Lady Penelope and she says she thinks it must have been ‘Autistic’.
In the late 1950s my parents were members of a very posh charitable society which held dinner dances and they attended in appropriate clothes, often a government minister attended too. On such evenings, as a youngster, I was put to bed early and usually slept until morning.
Once I woke up with a strange smell in my nose, and an unaccustomed taste on my lips, I could see little because my head was surrounded by cloth, which I could feel rubbing against me.There was a loud rustling sound all around me. Something was bending over my bed, I was startled and afraid. It withdrew a little and now I could see that it was my mother, she had kissed me and then leaned over the bed for some reason, engulfing me in rustling taffeta over her big 1950s petticoat.
This was what had woken me. She had only just put on her perfume which was why it was so strong. I still do not know what the taste was, maybe it was her lipstick, maybe she had just eaten or drunk something. My panic ended but there must have been a heck of a lot of adrenalin in my bloodstream because it took a long time to get back to sleep and while I lay there my mind went over and over the experience and the huge differences between how I normally saw her and how she was that evening. All my five senses had been under her influence, overwhelming my mind at that instant.
I was always a sickly child, the doctor was a frequent visitor to me and got me through many many illnesses. Speaking in modern terminology, I had the worst genes of both my parents. In primary school I decided I would not wish my childhood on anyone and hence resolved never to have children. I doubted I would ever get to see the year 2000 so kind of half decided not to make a young widow either. Without wasting time on courtship maybe I would have time to do something useful for this world, and yes I think that worked but cannot reveal how.
Someone once called me a sissy, I didn’t know what it meant but by the tone it was said in, it seemed it was not a good thing to be. I figured it must mean I was like my sister, hence sis-y. For many years I chose to be different from my sister, she brushed her teeth so I refused, she ate certain things so I didn’t, she washed a lot so I washed as infrequently as my mother would allow and so on.
In primary school I did not like girls, though once we had to do ‘country dancing’ and the teacher, another female but this one was in authority like my mother. She told us to ‘partner up’. Before I could really think about the task, my classmates had a mad scramble pairing up and I looked around and noticed there was one girl left. So, somewhat reluctantly, she and I did likewise. As far as I was concerned it was just for the duration of the lesson but looking back now, I feel sure that for the next few years, she had a crush on me.
I once made fun of the click click clack of the girl’s knitting needles as they practised their knitting and the teacher instructed me, if I was so clever, that I should try it. I was handed needles and wool and tied the wool around one needle as I had seen the girls do, but had no idea what to do next and after a few minutes, I was allowed to return to boy things.
Once when changing back to normal clothes after P.E. or sport, the teacher criticised the boys saying ‘I don’t know, you boys are slower than the girls.’ I replied back that we had (under)pants, socks, shoes, (short) trousers, shirts, and (neck)ties, whereas the girls only had knickers, socks, shoes and a dress.
Another teacher once said that the ‘Jet Stream’ was dangerous because if a plane flew into it, the plane’s airspeed would be cancelled out by the jet stream and ‘we all know what happens if planes stand still. They fall out of the sky.’ I knew she was wrong but lacked the language skills to explain it to her. Frustrating.
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