Robot Ponygirls
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It was only supposed to be a part-time cleaning job, a bit
of extra money to help pay off the credit card bills. After
all, it was common knowledge in the town where I lived
that Mrs Simmons was always looking for maids, cleaners
and other staff to help run her massive hilltop mansion.
But as you’ve probably guessed from the fact that I’m
taking the time to write this story, from the moment that I
arrived for my interview I could never have imagined
what would happen next, and I’m still not quite sure if it
did.
Of course, if I’d even suspected that Mrs Simmons was
engaged in anything untoward then I never would have
applied for the job in the first place. But then again, I
suppose that the best kept secret is one that everyone
knows about but that nobody ever mentions, meaning that
I probably just happened to apply for the job a few weeks
before the rumours filtered down to my level.
Even if I had been aware of the gossip however, I
probably would have laughed it off as an exaggerated
joke. After all, Mrs Simmons looked about as dangerous
and subversive as a plastic Barbie Doll, an impression that
was probably helped by the fact that the plastic ‘Dream
House’ lifestyle was the one thing that she had spent her
whole life trying to emulate.
A tall, slim and beautiful blonde in her early forties,
Janet Simmons had married for money at the age of
s*******n and been widowed at the age of twenty-six,
inheriting a hilltop mansion, two yachts and a fleet of cars
which, as a telling statement of things to come, she
immediately painted bright baby pink.
Every item of clothing, every pair of stilettos, every
lipstick, and every bottle of nail varnish, everything that
she owned was either white or baby pink. But while
anyone else would have been considered insane, since she
was a millionaire who was desperate to spend every penny
of her fortune, Mrs Simmons was merely eccentric and we
were all more than happy to help her achieve her goals.
It was common knowledge that, if you wanted to work
for Mrs Simmons, it really helped your application if you
happened to fit her mental image of a perfect living doll.
And so, ironically, for the first time in my life, being tall
and very slim with long red hair and legs to die for turned
out to be a serious problem, even though I didn’t realize it
until it was far too late.
Whether you were a potential pin-up girl or not
however, the cardinal rule for anyone who wanted to work
for Mrs Simmons was that you had to play along with her
‘Barbie Girl’ delusions. And so in my naivety, thinking
that it was nothing more than a harmless role-playing
fantasy, on the day of my interview I dolled myself up
with bright pink blusher, lipstick and nail varnish, wore
my skimpiest and sexiest white T shirt, pink mini-skirt and
strappy white stilettos. And from the moment that I parked
my car, walked up to the main gate and buzzed the
mansion’s intercom, I beamed inanely from ear to ear and
emptied my head of every meaningful thought.
‘Hello?’ Asked Mrs Simmons in her usual sickly sweet
tone of voice.
‘Hello, Mrs Simmons.’ I beamed, perfecting the role of
the air-headed bimbo before I’d even been allowed in the
front door. ‘My name is Lucy. I’d like to come and work
for you, and so you said that I should come and see you
today.’
It was really difficult for me not to use the words
‘appointment’ or ‘interview’. But then again, Barbie dolls
aren’t supposed to use such long and complicated words.
‘Come in then, darling,’ she invited warmly as the main
gates swung open to allow me inside. ‘I’ll ask one of my
maids to let you in as soon as you arrive.’
Not wanting to upset my future employer with the sight
of anything that wasn’t pink, I left my Peugeot parked
outside and walked up the main driveway towards the
house as seductively as possible, past more than half a
dozen sexy female gardeners who were also dressed in
baby pink mini-skirts and grinning from ear to ear.
‘Hello, madam,’ beamed the sexy Asian maid who
answered the front door in the same ‘Stepford Wife’
manner. ‘Mrs Simmons is waiting for you. Please follow
me.’
I never did learn the woman’s name, but as I followed
her through the marble-clad reception hall and up the main
flight of stairs, I couldn’t help but notice the fact that she
looked more like a strip-o-gram than a normal domestic
maid.
Leaving aside the fact that she was sexier than I was
with a gorgeous dark complexion, long ‘shampoo advert’
hair, a perfect hourglass figure and legs that most women
would kill for, her skimpy pink uniform was so kinky and
erotic that it almost made me want to fuck her.
It was the most perfectly tailored piece of smut that I’ve
ever seen in my life. And despite being completely
strapless, it still managed to present her gorgeous cleavage
for the whole world to see, while at the same time leaving
her delectable back and shoulders on display.
Her skirt too, such as it was, was as short and skimpy as
anyone could ever have gotten away with, puffed up with
layer upon layer of lacy white petticoats that left even
more of her legs, rump and pussy on display.
As I followed her up the long marble staircase, I
couldn’t help but be amazed at how elegantly she was able
to walk in her 5” baby pink stiletto heels. But of course,
having taken the time to appreciate the bows of her white
satin stocking and suspenders and the intricate embroidery
of her petticoats, it wasn’t long before the only thing that I
could think about was her smooth, naked pussy.
I think that this was my first real moment of doubt and
panic. What if all of Mrs Simmons’s domestic staff was
required to dress like this? What if she was a total pervert?
Looking back on it now ,of course, I suppose it’s easy
to say that I should have just turned around and walked
back to my car without another word. But while I know
that if my future employer had been a man then I would
have run screaming to the nearest police station, the very
fact that Mrs Simmons was a woman left me so confused
that I didn’t know what to do.
‘She doesn’t look like a dyke,’ I thought to myself, just
proving how naïve, ignorant and prejudiced I really was.
I just simply couldn’t conceive of the possibility that a
woman who was obsessed with the Barbie doll lifestyle
could be a lesbian. And so because I couldn’t understand
it, I simply pushed it to the back of my mind and
pretended that it didn’t exist.
‘Mrs Simmons, your guest is here,’ announced the maid
as she showed me through to her mistress’s parlour.
‘Thank you, darling,’ she said dismissively. ‘You can
go now.’
Despite the lateness of the hour and her perfect makeup
and hair, like every good playgirl living in the lap of
luxury, Mrs Simmons was dressed in a beautifully tailored
satin corset and fur lined gown with furry pink stilettoheeled
slippers and white silk stockings and suspenders,
all of which seemed to have been deliberately chosen for
their erotic sensuality. And as she lay there seductively,
casually displaying the tops of her thighs and her huge ripe
cleavage, I did actually wonder if I had accidentally
walked into a ‘Playboy’ photo shoot.
Sprawling decadently across her plush pink velvet sofa
as she sipped her champagne and nibbled her Belgian
chocolates, it was fully five minutes before Mrs Simmons
even acknowledged my existence. And since I was still too
busy trying to figure out if I should be trying to impress
her or running for my life, I just stood there like a
mindless mannequin and smiled like a good little doll.
As it turned out of course, this was the best, or possibly
the worst, thing that I could have done, because even
though I didn’t realize it, the interview had already begun.
Mrs Simmons wanted all of her staff to be as patient as
a saint, willing to stand seductive and motionless for hours
on end without ever breathing a single word. And so when
the woman did finally stand to greet me, she was very
pleased indeed.
‘Hello, Lucy,’ beamed the woman as she walked up to
me and gave me a long, intimate hug, putting her cheek to
mine and kissing the air to avoid smudging her lipstick.
‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’
‘That’s alright, Mrs Simmons.’ I smiled in assent. ‘I
don’t mind at all.’
Once I’d said that however, I quickly realized that I’d
burned my bridges behind me and committed myself to
taking the job. Because while it might sound completely
insane, now that I’d said that I wanted to be there, I felt
that it would be rude of me to refuse her or to try and
leave.
‘Very pretty,’ she complimented in a smooth, seductive
tone of voice as she lovingly examined my pert round
breasts and slipped her hand up my skirt. ‘I see that you’ve
shaved your pussy for me. Yes, very nice indeed.’
By this point of course, all doubt and uncertainty had
left my mind. Every fibre in my body was screaming at me
to turn around and run back to the car as fast as I possibly
could. But as Mrs Simmons leaned forward to give me a
long, loving kiss on the lips, even though I wanted to stop
her, I quickly realized that I was behaving more obediently
than ever before.
It was as if my body was on auto-pilot. And while I
wanted to shout at the woman to leave me alone, when I
opened my mouth to yell at her, I heard myself say
something completely different.
‘Thank you, Mrs Simmons,’ I beamed as she continued
to compliment the smoothness of my pussy, even
spreading my legs a little further apart to facilitate her
inspection. ‘I think that you’re very pretty as well.’
I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief when Mrs Simmons
finally turned to head back to her sofa. But instead, I
actually heard myself whimper with frustration when the
groping stopped. And while the second part of my
interview wasn’t quite as invasive as the first part had
been, it was still so humiliating that I literally wanted to
die.
Even though I couldn’t make myself leave, as Mrs
Simmons offered me a seat and began asking all sorts of
embarrassing questions, I’m certain that I should have at
least turned bright red with embarrassment. But as I sat
down in the most lady-like fashion imaginable, still
grinning from ear to ear and fluttering my eyelashes like
an obedient bit of fluff, I didn’t even feel myself become
flushed.
‘So, do you like licking pussy?’ she smiled, as casually
as if she were asking me about the weather.
‘Yes, madam. Yes I do,’ I beamed in reply. ‘I’m a good
little girl and I’ll do whatever I’m told.’
What the hell was happening to me? I might have taken
part in the odd ‘experiment’ when I was at school, but I
certainly wasn’t a lesbian. And even if I was, why would I
be talking about licking pussy in front of a woman who I’d
only just met?
‘And would you like to lick my pussy?’
‘Oh yes, madam,’ I panted, going down on all fours and
crawling up to the woman as she playfully uncrossed her
legs. ‘Please let me lick your pussy. I’m such a good little
girl.’
If I’d been watching someone else demean themselves
in such a humiliating manner I would have either stormed
out in total disgust or simply closed my eyes and turned
away. But as she revealed her smooth naked pussy, petting
my head as if I was one of her pets as she lovingly guided
my lips towards her slit, there was nothing I could do to
stop myself as I felt my mouth begin to water with eager
anticipation and my pussy became just as wet.
‘That’s it, darling,’ she purred as patronizingly as could
be, licking her lips with satisfaction as I greedily lapped at
her smooth wet slit. ‘You lick Mummy’s pussy like a good
little girl.’
There was nothing that I could do to stop myself as I
greedily buried my tongue inside her and licked and
sucked as deeply as I could. I was even frigging the crotch
of my white cotton panties so hard that I was actually
starting to enjoy it.
No matter what it was that Mrs Simmons had done to
turn me into an obedient lesbian puppet, she now had
undeniable proof that it had worked perfectly. And now
that she knew there was no chance of me being able to
break her hold over me and escaping to tell other people
what I had seen, she finally decided to ‘offer me the job’.
‘Thank you darling, that’s enough.’ She smiled, gently
easing my mouth away from her pussy and slowly recrossing
her legs.
Once again it seemed that while I was glad to see the
end of my humiliation, my body was still as eager as ever.
And as I watched Mrs Simmons ring the tiny ornamental
‘service’ bell on the table beside her seat, I actually
remember wagging my bottom like a horny puppy and
grinning from ear to ear with her honey glistening on my
lips.
Mrs Simmons did ask me to stand back up before her
maids arrived, of course, and I obeyed at once like a good
little toy. But as two of the woman’s other mindless
playthings entered the room and their mistress gave them
their instructions, I quickly realized that my humiliation
was just beginning.
‘Mary, Janet, this is Lucy,’ she introduced us
graciously, her pussy still tingling with orgasm after the
licking that I had given her. ‘Say hello, girls.’
‘Hello Mary. Hello Janet.’ I waved, beaming
moronically like a character off Playschool.
‘Hello Lucy.’ They waved just as ridiculously in reply.
A tall stunning blonde and a brunette, dressed in the
same skimpy pink French maid uniform that I’d seen
before, the women were both incredibly beautiful and
sexy. And thanks to Mrs Simmons’s control over me, the
very sight of them made my pussy tingle more than ever.
‘Lucy wants to work for me, just like you do,’
explained the woman as her two French maids came over
to touch, caress and compliment my body, cooing with
delight as if I were a cute little puppy. ‘Please make her all
pretty and teach her everything that she needs to know.’
‘Yes, Mrs Simmons,’ they curtsied. And the next thing
I knew, I was being hurried out of the room and
downstairs to the servants’ quarters, ready to be bathed,
powdered and dressed up in pink, ready to serve my pretty
new mistress.
‘Does that feel good?’ cooed Janet, having stripped me
naked and helped me into a hot, delightful bubble bath,
paying particular attention to my breasts and pussy.
Whether it was how Mrs Simmons had programmed
them or not, the look of sexual lust on the pretty maid’s
face as she eagerly lathered up my firm tanned breasts was
absolutely undeniable. And of course, if I’d had a mirror,
then I probably would have seen the same look on my own
face as well.
Having stood me up and dried me off with towels so
fluffy that they actually made me giggle, Mary and Janet
then gently applied soft white talcum powder all over my
body with huge fluffy powder puffs before wrapping me
up in a soft pink bath robe and sitting me down to receive
my full makeover.
As the sexy Asian maid expertly removed the varnish
from my toenails and gave me the most relaxing pedicure
of my life, Janet did the same to my fingers and Mary
washed and styled my hair.
I suppose that since Mrs Simmons spent almost half her
live being pampered in this manner; it was only natural
that her domestic staff would be expert beauty ther****ts.
And I must say that once Mary had removed my make-up,
moisturised my skin and made my face up once again, I
was absolutely astonished by the result.
‘Are you a pretty little dolly now?’
The maid giggled as she put away her make-up and
brushes.
‘Oh yes,’ I gasped unable to look away from my
beautiful reflection or get over how wonderful I felt. ‘I’m
a very pretty dolly indeed.’
‘Well, now it’s time for us to dress you in your
uniform,’ she squealed as she clapped her hands together
with glee. And five minutes later, I was gasping with
delight as I felt the soft silk and satin uniform and
stockings gently caress my skin.
I was a maid, I was a dolly, and I was also one of the
girls. And as Mary and Janet playfully instructed me in all
of the skills and nuances that I would have to master, I
actually felt myself become so happy and horny that I
actually wanted to be Mrs Simmons’s sweet little
plaything more than anything else in the world.
Tottering around the mansion in my 5” stiletto heels
like a typical Ooh la la French maid in a ‘Carry On’ film, I
got such a perverted sexual thrill from tickling around Mrs
Simmons furniture and nick-nacks with my fluffy pink
feather duster that my pussy simply would not stop
dripping. And when Mrs Simmons came to praise my hard
work and offered to reward me with a nice long lick of her
pussy, I was so horny and eager to please her that I
literally fell down onto my knees and hungrily worshipped
her gorgeous slit.
‘Do you like your new job then?’ asked my new
goddess as I desperately frigged my hot wet cunt, eagerly
licking her glorious pussy as the honey began to pour
down my chin.
‘Oh yes, madam!’ I panted, stopping as briefly as I
could for a gasp of air before eagerly burying my tongue
inside her once again. ‘I love being your pretty little dolly!
Please let me be your maid for ever!’
‘Hush, darling, don’t worry about a thing,’ she said in
an increasingly sexy but ominous tone of voice. ‘I’ll never
send you away or ask you to leave. After all, I’ve got a lot
of plans for you.’
of extra money to help pay off the credit card bills. After
all, it was common knowledge in the town where I lived
that Mrs Simmons was always looking for maids, cleaners
and other staff to help run her massive hilltop mansion.
But as you’ve probably guessed from the fact that I’m
taking the time to write this story, from the moment that I
arrived for my interview I could never have imagined
what would happen next, and I’m still not quite sure if it
did.
Of course, if I’d even suspected that Mrs Simmons was
engaged in anything untoward then I never would have
applied for the job in the first place. But then again, I
suppose that the best kept secret is one that everyone
knows about but that nobody ever mentions, meaning that
I probably just happened to apply for the job a few weeks
before the rumours filtered down to my level.
Even if I had been aware of the gossip however, I
probably would have laughed it off as an exaggerated
joke. After all, Mrs Simmons looked about as dangerous
and subversive as a plastic Barbie Doll, an impression that
was probably helped by the fact that the plastic ‘Dream
House’ lifestyle was the one thing that she had spent her
whole life trying to emulate.
A tall, slim and beautiful blonde in her early forties,
Janet Simmons had married for money at the age of
s*******n and been widowed at the age of twenty-six,
inheriting a hilltop mansion, two yachts and a fleet of cars
which, as a telling statement of things to come, she
immediately painted bright baby pink.
Every item of clothing, every pair of stilettos, every
lipstick, and every bottle of nail varnish, everything that
she owned was either white or baby pink. But while
anyone else would have been considered insane, since she
was a millionaire who was desperate to spend every penny
of her fortune, Mrs Simmons was merely eccentric and we
were all more than happy to help her achieve her goals.
It was common knowledge that, if you wanted to work
for Mrs Simmons, it really helped your application if you
happened to fit her mental image of a perfect living doll.
And so, ironically, for the first time in my life, being tall
and very slim with long red hair and legs to die for turned
out to be a serious problem, even though I didn’t realize it
until it was far too late.
Whether you were a potential pin-up girl or not
however, the cardinal rule for anyone who wanted to work
for Mrs Simmons was that you had to play along with her
‘Barbie Girl’ delusions. And so in my naivety, thinking
that it was nothing more than a harmless role-playing
fantasy, on the day of my interview I dolled myself up
with bright pink blusher, lipstick and nail varnish, wore
my skimpiest and sexiest white T shirt, pink mini-skirt and
strappy white stilettos. And from the moment that I parked
my car, walked up to the main gate and buzzed the
mansion’s intercom, I beamed inanely from ear to ear and
emptied my head of every meaningful thought.
‘Hello?’ Asked Mrs Simmons in her usual sickly sweet
tone of voice.
‘Hello, Mrs Simmons.’ I beamed, perfecting the role of
the air-headed bimbo before I’d even been allowed in the
front door. ‘My name is Lucy. I’d like to come and work
for you, and so you said that I should come and see you
today.’
It was really difficult for me not to use the words
‘appointment’ or ‘interview’. But then again, Barbie dolls
aren’t supposed to use such long and complicated words.
‘Come in then, darling,’ she invited warmly as the main
gates swung open to allow me inside. ‘I’ll ask one of my
maids to let you in as soon as you arrive.’
Not wanting to upset my future employer with the sight
of anything that wasn’t pink, I left my Peugeot parked
outside and walked up the main driveway towards the
house as seductively as possible, past more than half a
dozen sexy female gardeners who were also dressed in
baby pink mini-skirts and grinning from ear to ear.
‘Hello, madam,’ beamed the sexy Asian maid who
answered the front door in the same ‘Stepford Wife’
manner. ‘Mrs Simmons is waiting for you. Please follow
me.’
I never did learn the woman’s name, but as I followed
her through the marble-clad reception hall and up the main
flight of stairs, I couldn’t help but notice the fact that she
looked more like a strip-o-gram than a normal domestic
maid.
Leaving aside the fact that she was sexier than I was
with a gorgeous dark complexion, long ‘shampoo advert’
hair, a perfect hourglass figure and legs that most women
would kill for, her skimpy pink uniform was so kinky and
erotic that it almost made me want to fuck her.
It was the most perfectly tailored piece of smut that I’ve
ever seen in my life. And despite being completely
strapless, it still managed to present her gorgeous cleavage
for the whole world to see, while at the same time leaving
her delectable back and shoulders on display.
Her skirt too, such as it was, was as short and skimpy as
anyone could ever have gotten away with, puffed up with
layer upon layer of lacy white petticoats that left even
more of her legs, rump and pussy on display.
As I followed her up the long marble staircase, I
couldn’t help but be amazed at how elegantly she was able
to walk in her 5” baby pink stiletto heels. But of course,
having taken the time to appreciate the bows of her white
satin stocking and suspenders and the intricate embroidery
of her petticoats, it wasn’t long before the only thing that I
could think about was her smooth, naked pussy.
I think that this was my first real moment of doubt and
panic. What if all of Mrs Simmons’s domestic staff was
required to dress like this? What if she was a total pervert?
Looking back on it now ,of course, I suppose it’s easy
to say that I should have just turned around and walked
back to my car without another word. But while I know
that if my future employer had been a man then I would
have run screaming to the nearest police station, the very
fact that Mrs Simmons was a woman left me so confused
that I didn’t know what to do.
‘She doesn’t look like a dyke,’ I thought to myself, just
proving how naïve, ignorant and prejudiced I really was.
I just simply couldn’t conceive of the possibility that a
woman who was obsessed with the Barbie doll lifestyle
could be a lesbian. And so because I couldn’t understand
it, I simply pushed it to the back of my mind and
pretended that it didn’t exist.
‘Mrs Simmons, your guest is here,’ announced the maid
as she showed me through to her mistress’s parlour.
‘Thank you, darling,’ she said dismissively. ‘You can
go now.’
Despite the lateness of the hour and her perfect makeup
and hair, like every good playgirl living in the lap of
luxury, Mrs Simmons was dressed in a beautifully tailored
satin corset and fur lined gown with furry pink stilettoheeled
slippers and white silk stockings and suspenders,
all of which seemed to have been deliberately chosen for
their erotic sensuality. And as she lay there seductively,
casually displaying the tops of her thighs and her huge ripe
cleavage, I did actually wonder if I had accidentally
walked into a ‘Playboy’ photo shoot.
Sprawling decadently across her plush pink velvet sofa
as she sipped her champagne and nibbled her Belgian
chocolates, it was fully five minutes before Mrs Simmons
even acknowledged my existence. And since I was still too
busy trying to figure out if I should be trying to impress
her or running for my life, I just stood there like a
mindless mannequin and smiled like a good little doll.
As it turned out of course, this was the best, or possibly
the worst, thing that I could have done, because even
though I didn’t realize it, the interview had already begun.
Mrs Simmons wanted all of her staff to be as patient as
a saint, willing to stand seductive and motionless for hours
on end without ever breathing a single word. And so when
the woman did finally stand to greet me, she was very
pleased indeed.
‘Hello, Lucy,’ beamed the woman as she walked up to
me and gave me a long, intimate hug, putting her cheek to
mine and kissing the air to avoid smudging her lipstick.
‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’
‘That’s alright, Mrs Simmons.’ I smiled in assent. ‘I
don’t mind at all.’
Once I’d said that however, I quickly realized that I’d
burned my bridges behind me and committed myself to
taking the job. Because while it might sound completely
insane, now that I’d said that I wanted to be there, I felt
that it would be rude of me to refuse her or to try and
leave.
‘Very pretty,’ she complimented in a smooth, seductive
tone of voice as she lovingly examined my pert round
breasts and slipped her hand up my skirt. ‘I see that you’ve
shaved your pussy for me. Yes, very nice indeed.’
By this point of course, all doubt and uncertainty had
left my mind. Every fibre in my body was screaming at me
to turn around and run back to the car as fast as I possibly
could. But as Mrs Simmons leaned forward to give me a
long, loving kiss on the lips, even though I wanted to stop
her, I quickly realized that I was behaving more obediently
than ever before.
It was as if my body was on auto-pilot. And while I
wanted to shout at the woman to leave me alone, when I
opened my mouth to yell at her, I heard myself say
something completely different.
‘Thank you, Mrs Simmons,’ I beamed as she continued
to compliment the smoothness of my pussy, even
spreading my legs a little further apart to facilitate her
inspection. ‘I think that you’re very pretty as well.’
I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief when Mrs Simmons
finally turned to head back to her sofa. But instead, I
actually heard myself whimper with frustration when the
groping stopped. And while the second part of my
interview wasn’t quite as invasive as the first part had
been, it was still so humiliating that I literally wanted to
die.
Even though I couldn’t make myself leave, as Mrs
Simmons offered me a seat and began asking all sorts of
embarrassing questions, I’m certain that I should have at
least turned bright red with embarrassment. But as I sat
down in the most lady-like fashion imaginable, still
grinning from ear to ear and fluttering my eyelashes like
an obedient bit of fluff, I didn’t even feel myself become
flushed.
‘So, do you like licking pussy?’ she smiled, as casually
as if she were asking me about the weather.
‘Yes, madam. Yes I do,’ I beamed in reply. ‘I’m a good
little girl and I’ll do whatever I’m told.’
What the hell was happening to me? I might have taken
part in the odd ‘experiment’ when I was at school, but I
certainly wasn’t a lesbian. And even if I was, why would I
be talking about licking pussy in front of a woman who I’d
only just met?
‘And would you like to lick my pussy?’
‘Oh yes, madam,’ I panted, going down on all fours and
crawling up to the woman as she playfully uncrossed her
legs. ‘Please let me lick your pussy. I’m such a good little
girl.’
If I’d been watching someone else demean themselves
in such a humiliating manner I would have either stormed
out in total disgust or simply closed my eyes and turned
away. But as she revealed her smooth naked pussy, petting
my head as if I was one of her pets as she lovingly guided
my lips towards her slit, there was nothing I could do to
stop myself as I felt my mouth begin to water with eager
anticipation and my pussy became just as wet.
‘That’s it, darling,’ she purred as patronizingly as could
be, licking her lips with satisfaction as I greedily lapped at
her smooth wet slit. ‘You lick Mummy’s pussy like a good
little girl.’
There was nothing that I could do to stop myself as I
greedily buried my tongue inside her and licked and
sucked as deeply as I could. I was even frigging the crotch
of my white cotton panties so hard that I was actually
starting to enjoy it.
No matter what it was that Mrs Simmons had done to
turn me into an obedient lesbian puppet, she now had
undeniable proof that it had worked perfectly. And now
that she knew there was no chance of me being able to
break her hold over me and escaping to tell other people
what I had seen, she finally decided to ‘offer me the job’.
‘Thank you darling, that’s enough.’ She smiled, gently
easing my mouth away from her pussy and slowly recrossing
her legs.
Once again it seemed that while I was glad to see the
end of my humiliation, my body was still as eager as ever.
And as I watched Mrs Simmons ring the tiny ornamental
‘service’ bell on the table beside her seat, I actually
remember wagging my bottom like a horny puppy and
grinning from ear to ear with her honey glistening on my
lips.
Mrs Simmons did ask me to stand back up before her
maids arrived, of course, and I obeyed at once like a good
little toy. But as two of the woman’s other mindless
playthings entered the room and their mistress gave them
their instructions, I quickly realized that my humiliation
was just beginning.
‘Mary, Janet, this is Lucy,’ she introduced us
graciously, her pussy still tingling with orgasm after the
licking that I had given her. ‘Say hello, girls.’
‘Hello Mary. Hello Janet.’ I waved, beaming
moronically like a character off Playschool.
‘Hello Lucy.’ They waved just as ridiculously in reply.
A tall stunning blonde and a brunette, dressed in the
same skimpy pink French maid uniform that I’d seen
before, the women were both incredibly beautiful and
sexy. And thanks to Mrs Simmons’s control over me, the
very sight of them made my pussy tingle more than ever.
‘Lucy wants to work for me, just like you do,’
explained the woman as her two French maids came over
to touch, caress and compliment my body, cooing with
delight as if I were a cute little puppy. ‘Please make her all
pretty and teach her everything that she needs to know.’
‘Yes, Mrs Simmons,’ they curtsied. And the next thing
I knew, I was being hurried out of the room and
downstairs to the servants’ quarters, ready to be bathed,
powdered and dressed up in pink, ready to serve my pretty
new mistress.
‘Does that feel good?’ cooed Janet, having stripped me
naked and helped me into a hot, delightful bubble bath,
paying particular attention to my breasts and pussy.
Whether it was how Mrs Simmons had programmed
them or not, the look of sexual lust on the pretty maid’s
face as she eagerly lathered up my firm tanned breasts was
absolutely undeniable. And of course, if I’d had a mirror,
then I probably would have seen the same look on my own
face as well.
Having stood me up and dried me off with towels so
fluffy that they actually made me giggle, Mary and Janet
then gently applied soft white talcum powder all over my
body with huge fluffy powder puffs before wrapping me
up in a soft pink bath robe and sitting me down to receive
my full makeover.
As the sexy Asian maid expertly removed the varnish
from my toenails and gave me the most relaxing pedicure
of my life, Janet did the same to my fingers and Mary
washed and styled my hair.
I suppose that since Mrs Simmons spent almost half her
live being pampered in this manner; it was only natural
that her domestic staff would be expert beauty ther****ts.
And I must say that once Mary had removed my make-up,
moisturised my skin and made my face up once again, I
was absolutely astonished by the result.
‘Are you a pretty little dolly now?’
The maid giggled as she put away her make-up and
brushes.
‘Oh yes,’ I gasped unable to look away from my
beautiful reflection or get over how wonderful I felt. ‘I’m
a very pretty dolly indeed.’
‘Well, now it’s time for us to dress you in your
uniform,’ she squealed as she clapped her hands together
with glee. And five minutes later, I was gasping with
delight as I felt the soft silk and satin uniform and
stockings gently caress my skin.
I was a maid, I was a dolly, and I was also one of the
girls. And as Mary and Janet playfully instructed me in all
of the skills and nuances that I would have to master, I
actually felt myself become so happy and horny that I
actually wanted to be Mrs Simmons’s sweet little
plaything more than anything else in the world.
Tottering around the mansion in my 5” stiletto heels
like a typical Ooh la la French maid in a ‘Carry On’ film, I
got such a perverted sexual thrill from tickling around Mrs
Simmons furniture and nick-nacks with my fluffy pink
feather duster that my pussy simply would not stop
dripping. And when Mrs Simmons came to praise my hard
work and offered to reward me with a nice long lick of her
pussy, I was so horny and eager to please her that I
literally fell down onto my knees and hungrily worshipped
her gorgeous slit.
‘Do you like your new job then?’ asked my new
goddess as I desperately frigged my hot wet cunt, eagerly
licking her glorious pussy as the honey began to pour
down my chin.
‘Oh yes, madam!’ I panted, stopping as briefly as I
could for a gasp of air before eagerly burying my tongue
inside her once again. ‘I love being your pretty little dolly!
Please let me be your maid for ever!’
‘Hush, darling, don’t worry about a thing,’ she said in
an increasingly sexy but ominous tone of voice. ‘I’ll never
send you away or ask you to leave. After all, I’ve got a lot
of plans for you.’
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