The Maid For Service Bundle (4 page)

“Wonderful breasts.” Her palms pressed hard against my nipples, mashing my tits and then pushing them up and together. “So very, very nice. Good girl.”

I shook a little at that phrase once more. This time I could not restrain my whimper. Somehow she knew that was the thing to call me—their good girl.

Her good girl, I mean. Not their.

It’s not like I needed Lilah
and
Castle’s approval, jointly. It wasn’t like...wasn’t like I had some big massive gap in my life from powerful male and female forces.

I didn’t have much time to focus on it. Her hands floated down to my crotch.

“Now, this bush...” she tsked. “It’s a bit much.”

“Much, ma’am?” I was practically squeaking.

“Yes. You’ll have to trim it done. Or,” she raised an eyebrow enthusiastically, “we can simply remove the lot of it. You’ll notice my own hair is entirely gone. I’ll show you later.”

Her fingers slid up past the area of my crotch, then, and directly to my pussy. Her thumb slid around for a moment, finding my clit. I let out a little hobbled gasp of pleasure.

“Oh my. Very wet. Have I excited you, good girl? Have I made you feel naughty?”

I whimpered again in response, looking at her with pleading eyes. God, but she was so damned pretty!

“I expect you to go do something about that right away. Do you understand me? You’re going to take care of yourself, and that naughty feeling you’ve got. Do you know what I mean?”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”

“You’re going to go masturbate. You’re going to finger that delicious little cunny of yours, and when you’re done, you’re going to call out my name and thank me for telling you to do it. Won’t you, dear?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

She smiled. “Wonderful.” Her fingers pushed hard against my clit for a final time, kissing me right under my chin...and then she pulled away.

“Run along, then. Take care of it.”

I did exactly as she ordered me to, and ran back to my room, naked the whole time. I had never cum so hard, or for so long, in my entire life.

It was the first of many such experiences.

* * * * *

S
aturday arrived, and my sheets were still dirty with all the juices that I had unleashed the night before as I came, and came again, thinking of my “interview” with Lilah in the sitting room. She was everything I had ever imagined a woman was supposed to be—beautiful, seductive, unstoppable, knowledgeable, and completely approving of my desires. Knowing that someone like that was in the house with me was a maddening prospect. Knowing that she wanted to dress me up in outfits all of her own desire was even more of one.

As I had been ordered, I showed up that morning to Lilah’s room completely naked—wearing only a tiny robe that I was able to ferret out deep from the closet of my limited room. She was in the shower when I arrived—but the clothes she wanted me to put on were already arranged.

It was a tiny little farce of a French maid’s outfit—the sort that you might see at a Halloween costume party. The rear of the skirt was puffed up so that the only way my panties wouldn’t be showing—frilly lacy things, thanks to Lilah—was if I stood completely straight. But standing straight wasn’t really often in the job description of a maid.

She also had prescribed a pair of sexy pump heels with gold buckles. They looked rather expensive—all of it did, and even though it was overtly sexual and even whorish, it was the most expensive outfit I had ever put on.

I rushed to get the outfit on before Lilah was done with the shower. I managed to step out just as she was turning off the water.

As always, I went to work. It was difficult all day, working in the clothes that Lilah picked out for me. The dress was far too short for someone with long legs like mine, and as I said I could not bend over without flashing my panties. No one was ever around, but always I looked, feeling twin feelings of excitement and shame. If I bent forward—dusting or wiping down a surface—then my cleavage would begin to spill outward. I was constantly readjusting, and all the readjustments were making me hot. I had to keep touching my nipples, pulling at my panties and sliding the soft lace against my clit. The panties Lilah had chosen were sheer and white, and the slightest breeze was enough to make me tremble with desire, feeling like the gentle fingertips of a lover on my most private area.

In the afternoon, I was no longer able to work without an eyewitness. I came into a study where Lilah lounged, and, with my hands full of cleaning supplies, I quickly tried to excuse myself.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I said. “I’ll just take care of this later.”

“No,” she said, sitting up. “You’ll do it now.”

From the look in her eyes, she clearly liked the way I looked. I couldn’t help but like the way
she
looked. Her outfit from the day before had, in some ways, flipped—now she wore a tight leather top, a zipper straining under the weight of her enormous breasts, with a small red skirt showing off the long lines of her tanned legs and bright red heels adorning her feet.

“Now, ma’am?”

“Yes,” she said, that predatory smile returning. “I’m not satisfied with the level of cleanliness in this place, you understand? It’s not up to my standards, yet.”

“Standards?”

“Yes. You know, those things you have to keep up with, or else your job is in jeopardy?”

“O-oh,” I bumbled with the cleaning supplies. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I’ll take care of it right away.”

Straight back to that again. Even if she wasn’t powerfully sexual, and easily capable of dominating my confused lustful ambitions, she also completely controlled my future. Her, and her husband. Fear and anticipation followed me around like old friends, knowing they were waiting for me.

Lilah pointed me to the desk where had her books gathered, ordering me to wipe the surface clean. As I did, she examined my cleavage—the way her tiny outfit had it pressing out and up. Beads of sweat accumulated, sliding slowly down my neck. The room was very cool. It was Lilah who made me hot.

I felt humiliated. I felt turned on. I was the object of her desire.

“There’s a spot, there,” she pointed. “Under the desk, there.”

I cleaned that as well, bending down farther—and her eyes stayed on me.

This went on for a good several minutes. More and more, every spot she picked out was lower, lower, lower, until I was on my knees. And once there, she had more low spots—the corners between the bookcases, the spot behind the trash can. I didn’t even bother to get up anymore, simple crawling from one spot to the next. She seemed to have great fun with this, drinking her little glass of brandy and massaging her nipples.

Finally, she put her heel on my tight young ass, digging the stiletto edge of it into my flesh.

“Stay just like that,” she ordered.

I looked back, and saw that she was fingering her pussy on the desk. There was no shame to her. She wanted me to watch her stroking her body—she wanted me to know that she got off on making me do what she said.

“Don’t move,” she said, her breaths getting fast. “Don’t do anything. You’re perfect like that. A good girl. Such a good girl.”

On the floor, I could do nothing to whimper. If she hadn’t ordered me explicitly not to move, I may have started to touch myself as well. But I had to follow orders. I just had to. I wouldn’t be a good girl if I didn’t.

And so, I watched her, my blond hair brushing against the very clean floor, as her motions around her panties increased. Faster and faster, her head sinking back into a blissful, relaxed smile.

“Oh yes,” she moaned. “That’s it. Such a good girl. So good. So good...”

Her orgasm was a loud moan thrumming through the study.

“Go on,” she said, after calming down for a moment. “Go on then. A good girl continues her duty.”

I didn’t know what else to do. I obeyed and returned to cleaning.

* * * * *

T
hat evening, Mister Castle arrived home.

As what would become usual, I was not there to greet him at his arrival, but only heard of it through the honking of his horn. This was customary, as the estate was so enormous and the servants so few that a little noise had to be made to keep things running. I was just finishing up my duties for the day, and hoped perhaps to talk to Terrence to ask him what to do about Lilah. I didn’t know if he could help or not, but at least he could tell me if I was unique, or if Lilah did this with
every
maid. Were these the passionate activities that Mister Castle warned me about?

If they weren’t, I shuddered to think what he might have been referring to instead.

There was a system of intercoms in the house—a necessity for a place so big. I had already learned how to use the wall-planted devices in the preceding days.

“I’d like a drink.”

His drink was a whiskey on the rocks, I already knew. He drank an expensive sort of whiskey with a blue ribbon label. And so, I rushed down to the kitchen—Spoons already had it waiting for me on a tray—and then very carefully I rushed back upstairs to his study with what he requested. I took a moment before entering to make sure that my tits, still constrained in my tiny maid’s outfit, would not bounce out right away.

He was waiting for me, his jacket off, sitting on the large tall-backed chair in front of his fireplace.

“Hello, Claudette.”

“Welcome back, Sir.”

He took a long sip from his drink, eyeing me up and down. “You’re looking fine.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

I could not help but preen, smiling and then blushing a bit at my enjoyment of his compliment.

“Did my wife pick that out for you?”

I nodded. “Yes, Sir. She thought it would make me look...more appropriate.”

“And you conceded? What a good girl.”

Those words, from his mouth, made me tremble.

He had made possibly the least sexual overtures toward me from the trio of him, Lilah, and Terrance. And yet it was he, Mister Castle, who now occupied the most room of the arousal space in my brain. How could he not? He was so powerful, so enormous, so devilishly handsome. And I was alone with him in his study in this big, big house...and he could tell just from looking at me that I would do whatever he said.

Still looking me up and down, he set his drink on his desk.

“Let’s have a look at you, then.”

“Sir?”

“Put your hands on the table there.” He pointed at the small coffee table in front of the fireplace across from the seat. It was below my knees. “It’s time for an inspection. I have to compare notes with my wife, make sure that you’re dressed how she remembers. We wouldn’t want you cheating, after all.” He stopped. “Or don’t you still want this job?”

Oh god. They all knew, didn’t they? They all knew what kind of a woman they had working under them. They all knew she would just keep doing what she was told, again and again, her hot little body getting hotter and hotter...

Trembling, I put my hands on the desk as he ordered.

“Spread your legs out, now.”

Moaning slightly, I did.

“Wider. Give me a good look.”

Still trembling, I did so.

He placed his hands upon my legs then. His rough fingertips slid over the soft flesh of my thighs, feeling higher and higher still. I felt certain he was going to stick his fingers inside of my pussy...but he stopped, then. He stopped before he even felt my tiny, flimsy panties.

“Stand up.”

I let out a sigh of relief—and my breath was so quick that my nipple popped from my top. Quickly I adjusted it, but in doing so, I had to rub the offending nipple around...exciting me even more than his touch had. My nipples were soon rock hard, and when I turned, he could see them.

“I see. You are a good girl, aren’t you?”

I turned my head down and gulped. “Yes, Sir. I try, Sir.”

“Do you know what we do with good girls around here, Claudette?”

“No, Sir.”

“Whatever we want, my dear. Whatever we want.”

More and more, I was finding out how true that was.

Suddenly, a knock came at the door. I opened it, of course, obediently his servant.

It was Lilah.

“Darling! Welcome home.”

She swept immediately past me, attending to her husband. Her arms were around him almost instantly—whatever their dispute had been, it had been buried, I suppose. Or forgotten. Or waylaid, somehow, via recent circumstances.

I left them to their business.

* * * * *

B
y now of course, I am sure you are pulling your hair out in frustration.

Get out of there! Take all your things and leave immediately! Gather evidence, file a grievance, make sure they all pay for doing this to you!

But I just...I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

Here is why:

After I slipped outside the office, I heard very quickly Lilah moaning—lovemaking sounds, calling out Castle’s name in absolute ecstasy. Glee. Joy.

Do you see? Do you see, now?

They needed me there. I can’t explain it, but I truly felt like since I had arrived, some of the gloom had been lifted from the house. Spoons would crack jokes to Terrance and Elliot. Lilah kept commenting about how
happy
she was, and how she wasn’t drinking as much as she used to. And Mister Castle...well, when I saw him at first, you would think a smile would have broken his face in half. But in that office, when he was feeling me up, he was positively
glowing
.

So I know. I know that I shouldn’t have encouraged such lewd, offensive behavior.

But it wasn’t like we were having
sex
or anything. They were just...enjoying my body. Feeling me. Dressing me. That wasn’t strictly traditional, but it wasn’t terrible either. And if it made them happier—if some joy had returned to their home as a result—why, wouldn’t I be a terrible person if I didn’t keep it up?

I am sure the astute reader will have some wild theory about me loving all of this, about me needing and craving their attention desperately, the same sort of completely devoted and adoring attention that I had been deprived of my whole life. Here I was, entering a new household with a mother and father and brother type figures, and all of them can’t stop talking about me or complimenting me or calling me their good girl. Oh yes, I’m sure all kinds of wild theories abound in your devious little head.