174.)

"The first thing you need to do is preheat the oven," I said. "Three-fifty."

"Yes Miss Amanda," Blossom said shyly, and went to do so.

"Then you'll want to line the cupcake trays with those liners - one per hole."

One per hole. Blossom resisted making a pervy comment about that, and stayed in character with a small nod of her head.

"One per hole. Okay."

Blossom fetched the cupcake liners from the well organized drawer and started to separate them, laying them out on the counter in a 3 by 4 grid. As for the cupcake tray itself? Well, Blossom hadn't found that yet. She felt like she should have been extremely competent at these simple tasks, but in just a diaper and a bra, she looked anything but. And that was so fucking sexy.

Blossom was pretty good at following instructions. I made her mix all the ingredients by hand, which elicited a lot of complaining and a lot of finger snaps.

Good maids don't complain.

Good maids don't whine.

Good maids thank their employers for the opportunity to work.

Honestly, it felt a little weird at times. My control over Blossom was artificial, and we were essentially romanticizing the dynamics of slavery. I had to remind myself again and again that fantasy and reality are different things. Something can feel good in make believe that you know is wrong in real life. Right? Right...

"You okay, cupcake?" Blossom asked, as she finished pouring the batter into the little cupcake trays.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just doing that thing where I get lost in my head." I faked a smile.

"Focus on me," Blossom suggested.

I nodded. I should have been focusing on Blossom anyway. Stephanie said I needed to stay in the present, and use distractions instead of dissociations. No judgments, right? I was making Blossom make cupcakes with fake hypnosis or magic or something. It's not good, it's not bad.

"Put it in the oven and set a timer," I said.

"The oven is hot," Blossom pouted.

I honestly didn't know if she was playing up the brattiness or if she had never baked something before. Either way, I snapped my fingers and reissued the order. That cleared things up.

Blossom opened the oven and slid the tray inside, making precious little movements like a sorority girl who was trying to avoid breaking a nail. Once the tray was in the oven, she set the timer. But didn't close the oven door, because she wasn't sure if she was supposed to or not. And it was kind of hot to pretend like she couldn't even solve that simple problem on her own.

Okay, now she was definitely being a brat on purpose! So I snapped my fingers again.

"Close the oven door," I said sharply, and she did so.

"Miss Amanda," Blossom said quietly, once the timer was set, "Could you please point me in the direction of the restroom?"

I had been watching Blossom intently for the better part of the hour. She was slow at just about everything, and it was a little annoying. But she was constantly moving. Even when she was stirring, she would pace. I didn't even think about her needing to use the bathroom, but she hadn't gone since we got to the beach house.

"You still have to make the frosting," I said with a knowing smile.

"I still have to make the frosting, Miss Amanda, and then I can use the restroom."

She managed to turn the words around to seem as though Amy was prompting her to go use the restroom and Blossom was the one who was stalling to make the frosting.

"You can make the frosting, and then you have other chores to do," I said with a smile.

Blossom gave me a bit of a look, but she relented. It was cute, playing this game with her when I held all the cards. I wondered if I could get Maria in Academy M to make Judith do stuff like this.

I let Blossom use a hand mixer for the frosting, because I wanted it to be fluffy. Unfortunately, I got the impression that Blossom had never used a hand mixer before. When all was said and done, she had powdered sugar and whipping cream splashed on her upper chest. White dots were sprinkled on her cheek like freckles. I couldn't help but laugh.

Blossom had made a bit of a show of it - a "cheerleaders washing your car and oops all bubbles and boobies" kind of moment - but she got the strong impression that Amy liked to see her in such a state anyway. And it was fun to be dumb sometimes!

"I've finished with the frosting, Miss Amanda." Blossom idly twirled her hair with one finger, like she didn't notice she was doing it.

The timer went off almost on-cue. I smiled warmly and motioned to the oven. This part, Blossom did without any finger snaps.

"Should I frost them now?" Blossom asked.

"You should wait until they cool a little."

"So... I have time to run to the bathroom?" Blossom asked.

"Miss Amanda," I corrected.

"Miss Amanda," Blossom said automatically.

"You have to clean the kitchen," I smiled.

Blossom paused and rocked on her heels and bit her lip. She looked left and right, looking confused, looking like she didn't know how to speak for a moment. Pensive. Worried. Completely empty eyed and gorgeous.

"Miss Amanda..."

Was that an argument? Not yet. It was more like a mewling little whimper.

"Certainly you know that maids have to clean up," I interrupted. "That's the first rule of being a maid. You aren't that dumb, are you?"

"No, Miss Amanda..." Blossom pouted, looking down at her feet.

"Then you'll clean up the kitchen while we wait for the cupcakes to cool."

"Yes Miss Amanda."

Cleaning was something Blossom was actually good at, and being sexy was something she was even better at. In her bra, her diaper, covered in powdered sugar and cream? Blossom knew the show she was giving. Standing on tiptoes. Bending over at the waist and sticking her diapered ass in the air. Her cleavage out in full view. This was Blossom's forte.

Stephanie said to stay present. That wavered a few times as I arduously helped Blossom through the relatively simple steps of cupcake making. I felt like I had to double check everything she was doing, or I asked her to double check them for me. It helped a lot, keeping me in the moment.

But as I watched Blossom walk around the kitchen, bending down and leaning over, wiping stuff down, rinsing things in the sink... I had a lot of trouble being anywhere but the present. Each little movement made her crinkle. Each time she tried to push her legs together, they were forced apart. When she bent over, she made little sounds of effort. When she wiped her chest clean with a wet paper towel, her boobs bounced.

After a time, a time I couldn't quantify, she looked at me. I blinked and quickly looked away. My face felt hot. My heart was racing.

Roleplay, I reminded myself. I'm in charge. But I couldn't think of a good reason to snap my fingers and my stomach was full of butterflies.

"I don't know if this job is worth it, Miss Amanda. It's not really what I'm good at, and the uniform is…"

Blossom had been waiting to use that line for a moment when Amy seemed unsure, when she needed a hook or an endpoint. From there, Amy could dismiss her. She could snap her fingers and "make the uniform sexy" to Blossom. It was a bump in the narrative.

And should it not work, Blossom could always do a check-in.

"Uh... your uniform?" My hesitation wasn't even a second long, but it was a small change in form. I had to recenter myself, to bring things back to the way they were. But gosh, when I wasn't actively bossing Blossom around, it was hard to see past her sheer attractiveness. In a way, her ineptitude was a bit sobering.

"What's wrong with your uniform?" I asked, tilting my head in that mock-curious way.

"It's not very becoming of a maid, I mean, it's just a bra and… and this… this." Blossom vaguely gestured to her diaper, as though she was afraid to say exactly what it was.

"Your diaper?" I asked, making sure to put a bit of emphasis on the word. But before Blossom could challenge the term, I said: "It's practical. You are my maid. You've got a lot of stuff to do, and I can't wait around while you waste time in the bathroom."

Blossom wondered how long was the appropriate amount of time to wait for that penny to drop, for point A to connect to point B. And Blossom was playing someone a little dumb.

"Waste time… I…"

Wide eyes. Time for the performance.

"Oh. Oh I'm not going to use this. I'm not going to, that's for, I mean… I'm sorry but I'm just going to have to… quit."

"Quit?" I gave Blossom a very serious look, or, I hope it looked serious. "You haven't even finished frosting the cupcakes, and you're trying to quit? Absolutely not."

"Yes Miss Amanda."

Automatic. And then.

"I'll finish the cupcakes. And then I quit."

"You are my maid," I said flatly, trying my best to embody an entitled rich woman from TV, mixed with a bit of sexy brainwashing. "You don't get to decide when you do anything. I do. Is that understood? Or do you need a reminder of who is in charge?"

"…a reminder?" Blossom blinked. She wondered how much she should roll with this one. It didn't violate any of her snap rules to question that, right? "Is that a threat?"

"I don't need to threaten you," I said simply, shrugging my shoulders. "You're my maid, and you do what you're told. Your mind and body belong to me, as long as you're in my care."

"That's not how employment works, Miss Amanda!" Blossom stomped her foot with indignation and dumbly puffed out her cheeks.

"How would you know? You're just a dumb little maid." Once again, I couldn't help but use the word little. Watching Blossom throw a little tantrum in her diaper and bra was really cute, and it seemed the more childish Blossom acted, the easier it was to keep my feelings in check.

Miss Amanda called Blossom dumb, so it was an immutable fact. Blossom couldn't argue. But she sure could stomp her foot again and cross her arms.

"Just because I'm your dumb little maid doesn't mean you own me, Miss Amanda…"

"Are you sure?"

Blossom stared at me blankly. I smiled back at her. I didn't know a lot about brainwashing as a kink as much as a plot device, but I had my own ideas. Blossom wanted me to fundamentally change her into something she was not. She wanted me to make her do something like baking, something she would never do on her own, like it was her job now. And she wanted me to show her that she didn't have a say anymore: she was what I said she was.

I raised my hand and snapped my fingers.

"Wet your diaper."

Blossom bit her lip and nodded her head, but doing it on command, doing it standing up, doing it in the context of the scene? She was actually worried that she would ruin the scene.

"It's okay," I assured her, using that out-of-scene-Bluey-voice. "Take the time you need, and we'll pretend it happened instantly."

Blossom nodded. She relaxed and closed her eyes. She half-leaned over the kitchen counter, because for some reason she felt like it would make it easier. She took a few moments still, but as she stood up on her tiptoes and leaned forward, she finally sighed and moaned softly as she began to wet her diaper. Like a good, dumb, little maid.

I didn't know what it looked like when a girl was wetting her diaper in front of you. I didn't know when it started, when it stopped, or if it had even happened at all. But I knew it wasn't easy. I had only done it once, on the way to New York, and Blossom wasn't even paying me any attention at the time. Truthfully, I didn't know how she did it at all.

Regardless, eventually Blossom seemed to settle back into her own skin and her cheeks had just a hint of color. She looked at me and then down at the counter, and I guessed she was probably done.

"Just pick up when you're ready," I said, trying to be encouraging. Trying not to make it weird. But now that it was over, I was feverishly curious how this whole scene would play out.

Blossom nodded her head, clearly flustered, and her lip. She shook her hands out like before, took a step back from the counter, closed her eyes.

"Yes Miss Amanda…"

I waited for Blossom to blink her eyes open and realize what she'd done. I waited as Blossom discovered that she had wet herself for the first time in her adult life. That she had wet her diaper - the first diaper she had ever worn in her adult life - just because I told her to. I waited for Blossom to realize she truly was just a dumb little maid who did what she was told, like there was no other world that made sense anymore.

Gosh, my heart was racing. Not good or bad. Not weird or wrong. But standing there in her bra and her wet diaper... I bit my lip.

Blossom paused. Looked confused. Looked at Amanda. Looked down. Looked back. Took a step. Wetness.

"Why is my… why… what happened…? I didn't. I don't. I'm not…"

Blossom's hand had moved down to the front of her diaper, maybe in disbelief of her other touch senses. She shivered in shock as she touched the padding and confirmed what she'd done. And then it was time for her to let her eyes well up, fill with tears, glossy and reflecting the light. Then, finally, Blossom started to sniffle and whimper and shake her head.

Woah, she was good. It almost made me feel a little guilty, watching her well up with panic like that. I had to remind myself that this was what she wanted, that a moment ago she was fine. Deep breath.

"Don't worry, Blossom," I said sweetly, getting up from the stool for the first time since we started baking. I walked around the kitchen island and up to the panic-stricken woman.

"You were just following orders. You were a good maid, wetting your diaper like I said. And now look! You don't have to waste time in the bathroom, right? You can finish frosting your cupcakes."

She took a moment to take that in, soaking up the rationalization the way her diaper soaked up her pee. She slowly nodded her head and bit her lip, agreeing.

"I just did what I was told, Miss Amanda. I'm just being a good maid. Efficient…"

"That's a good girl," I said warmly, reaching out to take Blossom's hand. But I hesitated. She was topless, in just her bra. Her diaper crinkled as she leaned from one side to the other. I didn't want to lose momentum. So instead I reached up and touched her cheek. Blossom leaned into my hand like a cat looking for attention. Then I returned to my seat on the stool. Having a counter between us was good right now.

"I'm… should I frost the cupcakes, Miss Amanda?"

Blossom debated kicking up a fuss over the wetting herself, but in the context of her "programming" it didn't make any sense anyway: her employee had made it forbidden for her to argue.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I said, taking my seat.