Monologue
- 2 years ago
- 10
- 0
MONOLOGUE Or How I Solved The Servant Problem free porn video
MONOLOGUE
OR HOW I SOLVED THE SERVANT PROBLEM
By Monica Graz
Based on an older story by Jane Hunter
It all sounds perfectly dreamy darling. You have been away four months,
haven't you, on that great floating palace? Sun, sea, all you could
drink and eat. Just heaven!
Oh well, you certainly deserved it, though I must say I envy you
dreadfully. And one of these days you really are going to tell me what
happened between you and that handsome man you mentioned in your
letters. Look coy if you like, you always were a bit secretive, and I'm
certain there is more to tell than you've let on. Well, I'll get it out
of you somehow. What do you mean, you never thought I'd be so
interested, I just am. Oh, very well then, I suppose I used not to think
so much about men, but perhaps I've changed. Yes, I must admit I know I
have. Quite recently in fact and in an unusual manner.
Do have another cup, Susan can fill the pot. No dear, no trouble at all.
All I have to do is ring this little bell and in she'll come.
"Oh, Susan, how clever of you, you?ve brought the kettle. Yes
please...thank you. Yes, that will be all."
She's a treasure that girl. I can see you?ve been dying to ask. It's not
everybody who can have a live-in servant these days, and I am rather
proud of myself. Well, actually no, she is not all that expensive. The
clever part was acquiring her. I did it all on my own you know, no help
from anyone. And I'm so pleased with myself; it's all been such fun once
I'd taken the plunge. I can't remember having enjoyed anything so much
for simply ages!
Yes, of course darling, you couldn't possibly understand. The whole
thing really has been rather extraordinary, quite like a dream in fact,
a good one though, where you don't want to wake up.
All right, all right, don't be so impatient! You are my best friend
after all. How could I not tell you. But it is quite a story and you
have to promise faithfully never to breathe a word.
It started the week after you went off on your cruise. I was feeling a
bit down, jealous probably of you going off on your own. Anyhow I felt I
needed a little bit of cherishing and spoiling, and something more
exciting to do than all the dreary old housework and Friday night at the
bridge club. Always just the same and never anything to look forward to.
Well, one afternoon the doorbell rang, so I opened the door, and there
was this young man, a perfectly ordinary young man, there was nothing
special about him. Longish hair, open neck shirt, jeans, about 20 I
suppose. He just said "Good afternoon", he couldn't get any other job,
so he was hoping somebody would take him on for housework, and this was
the very first house he'd tried.
I must admit that I was taken by surprise, but he seemed clean and
looked honest. Somehow I felt, you know woman's intuition is called,
that the guy was completely harmless. I told him to come in so he wiped
his feet very carefully and followed me into the kitchen.
I don't need to tell you I've had no help in the house since Tom walked
out, but as I said, I had this strange sort of unsettled feeling, and it
suddenly dawned on me what it was. If I had some help around the house I
could leave the breakfast things and just push off for the day....Oh, I
don't know dear, I hadn't got as far as thinking about that. Walk in the
park perhaps? Or go on a mystery coach tour? Or....
Anyway, all this was going through my head as I filled the kettle, and
to cut a long story short, I agreed with him he was to do two mornings a
week, on Tuesdays and Fridays. We fixed an hourly rate and he agreed to
start the next day. He told me his name was Stephen, and we had a little
bit of a chat, and then he pushed off looking rather pleased with
himself.
So next morning he rolled up on the dot of nine. I said would he start
work in the hall and then go to the lounge and I showed him the vacuum
cleaner and where the dusters and things were and let him to get on with
it, while I washed up the breakfast dishes.
After a bit I finished in the kitchen and went upstairs to do my
bedroom, which was an absolute mess as usual. I really am very untidy,
as you well know darling, dirty knickers under the bed, powder all over
the dressing table, that sort of thing. I had actually forgotten about
young Stephen downstairs when there was a tap on the door, and there he
was, asking if Madam would like a cup of coffee, as it was nearly ten
o'clock. Madam thought this was a good idea and said she'd have it
downstairs in the lounge if he'd finished there.
Well dear, in a matter of minutes he trotted in with a cup, on a tray
with a cloth, would you believe it? Just as any efficient and well
trained maid would do. And ten minutes later he was back again to ask
could I lend him an apron to put on while he washed up and peeled the
potatoes. So he disappeared again until 12.30, when I gave him his money
and he went off.
Oh yes, couldn't have been better. It was all perfect, doorsteps
polished, lounge fire re-laid, just the right amount of veg prepared. I
was absolutely delighted, as you can imagine. Obviously this boy was
going to be a real gem. And of course I saw I should have to organise
myself, or I would have so much time on my hands I shouldn't know what
to do with it.
Well then, that was the memorable Tuesday. I suppose you had just got
into the Med and were trying out that super little sun suit of yours,
you are so lucky to have the figure for it still. Anyway, Friday arrived
and once again at 9 o'clock pronto in comes Stephen.
This time I'd decided I wasn't going to do any washing up that I could
leave to him, so I told him to start on the breakfast things, and once
again he asked for an apron. I fished out the navy blue one Tom used to
have for dirty jobs on the rare occasions he deigned to help, you know
the butcher type, but Stephen said would I mind if he had the same one
as before. I was somehow surprised at this, because what I'd given him
was a little tea apron, red and white check, with a white frill,
absolutely feminine and unpractical really, but it happened to be the
only one I could think of at the time, as I'd just done a wash.
I asked him why he wanted this particular one, it seemed so unsuitable,
I was curious to know the reason. He went rather red and looked at the
floor, obviously embarrassed, and muttered something about liking
?pretty things'. I was taken aback by this because it had never occurred
to me that a man would actually want to wear female fripperies, anyway
not unless he was queer, and you know how I dislike that sort of thing.
So I said to him, perhaps a bit more roughly than I really meant, did
liking pretty things, which was not uncommon in the male sex, in his
case extend to wanting to wear them himself?
He went redder still, but said yes, and I said to myself, you really are
a little sissy, and I retorted quite angrily:
"Oh, I see. Do you mean to say, if someone gave you a pretty blouse, a
girl's blouse, you'd rather wear it than your shabby old shirt?"
This time he went perfectly crimson. He couldn't look me in the eye. But
to do him justice he stuck to his guns and nodded.
This knocked me right off my perch. I just didn't know what to say, not
a frequent occurrence with me, as I daresay you'd agree, wouldn't you
darling? So I stamped out and rampaged in my bedroom, until I cooled
down and realized that what had really got under my skin was that this
nancy-boy had had the better of it. I didn't doubt I was right and he
was wrong, but I had given way and he hadn't.
By the time he came up with my cup of coffee, looking so worried and
anxious, I regretted being so fierce with him, and although he was still
wearing the ridiculous little apron, I had a change of heart and told
him to come back in five minutes, when he'd drunk his coffee.
I decided to put him to the test. I'd give him a blouse to wear and see
what happened. I've never been able to throw anything away and I've got
drawers full of stuff I used to wear when I was slimmer, so it didn't
take long to find a fairly plain pink blouse that I thought would fit
him, but it had a pin tucked yoke and pretty little short sleeves and
was unmistakeably a woman's blouse.
When he came back I told him that if he still persisted in saying he
liked blouses, he could jolly well go into the spare bedroom and put one
on.
He just said ?thank you Madam', quite expressionlessly, and I thought
I'd gone too far and lost a good servant, but when I went downstairs,
there he was, working away, and he'd got the blouse on. I confess to
you, my instant reaction was that it went well with his pale blue jeans
and red apron, and by the end of the morning it didn't seem to be at all
out of place. I also noticed that he persisted on wearing the apron,
though he didn't have to. The work he was doing wasn't messy to require
the protection of it.
He was wearing the blouse next time he came, obviously washed and
ironed. He'd also washed his hair, which kept falling about over his
face, so surprise surprise, it wasn't long before I insisted on tying it
back with a scarlet ribbon. He loved it, he really did! And of course he
firmly tied the apron around his fairly slim waist, without asking for
my permission, as if it was the most natural think to do, before he
started doing his chores for the day.
My feelings were so confused I didn't know what to think, but gradually
it dawned on me that I was enjoying myself. It was a long time since I
had given anybody so much obvious pleasure; it was like taking a child
to the zoo. And it was also obvious that he was working even harder, if
that was possible, to show his gratitude.
The next thing to become clear to me was that Stephen was something
between a houseboy and a housemaid, a sort of hermaphrodite in fact, not
just because he was doing a maid's work, but because he had this yen for
women's clothes. Maybe he was effeminate, but I had aided and abetted
him, hadn't I? So I was equally guilty, if that's the right word. I was
sort of in it with him, and I began to realise that if I was to stay the
boss, I had to take the initiative and lead him still further in the
direction we were headed. Once I had made the decision, the feeling that
I was Mistress of the situation and of him, was quite indescribable, but
nice, like being just a teeny bit drunk.
I decided to take the bull by the horns, I would make it absolutely
clear to him what I wanted and that he had to obey me. The next day he
came, I told him to go to the spare bedroom and dress himself in what he
found.
I wanted to have him in a skirt, but not with bare hairy legs, which
meant that he also had to have stockings and shoes, so I had laid out on
the bed a moderately short skirt in royal blue corduroy, pantyhose and
matching blue shoes, quite simple ones with a slender strap over the
instep and low heels that would be not too tiring for him to begin with.
He came down grinning from ear to ear and blushing like a girl who
suddenly finds herself the centre of attention. We were both a bit
emotional, so to cool it off I told him to put his apron on and get to
work.
Every day after that I had something new for him. First I put him into
knickers, then a bra, padded of course, how he loved his new bosom, I
thought virginal white nylon would be suitable and easy for him to wash.
Then a lacy white slip, which was so pretty I hated the thought I would
never again be able to wear it myself.
Later I decided he had got to have a corset, a real lace up one to
improve his figure, and it really has done marvels for him. I inspect
him in it every time, to make sure he has pulled it up tight enough.
Long before that the day came for his first make up and I gave him a
couple of lipsticks, with a navy handbag to keep them in. A very good
job he did with his lipstick too, and since he has a girl's complexion,
it was really all he needed. By now, I let him make up as he likes, he
seems to have a natural talent for it, and I haven't had to pull him up
at all, except once or twice when he used too much scent.
I also decided that Stephen must go and give place to Susan, which was
the name I chose for him, pretty and girlish, but not too pretentious
for a servant, I think.
After that it was only a matter of time before I came to the conclusion
that I wanted him to live in. I had got so used to thinking of him as
?she' that I disliked seeing him coming and going dressed as a man when
?she' was my Susan, my creation in fact. I suppose I wanted to enjoy my
dominance over ?her' continually, after all I couldn't exercise my power
when she wasn't even in the house. Anyhow, when I told her that she was
to move in I knew she would obey. Not only that, she was thrilled to
bits!
The next step came as naturally as the previous ones. Knowing her love
for feminine aprons I decided that I was going to buy her a couple of
maid's uniforms to wear during her working hours, nothing fancy, just
neat and practical. So I visited the local branch of ?ALEXANDRA
WORKWEAR', you know the chain of shops that specialize in domestic
uniforms and I bought for her two polycotton dresses, the overall type
that buttons in front, in pink and light blue and several aprons and
tabards. I also bought her a black and white waitress uniform that I
haven't given to her yet. That will be her birthday present in two weeks
time; my Susan then will be 21!
So there you have it darling, my secret is out, though you must have
guessed already. My Susan is a man! What do you think of that? Do you
really mean it? You wouldn't have known? Well of course, you didn't get
much of a look at her when she took your coat and brought the tea, in a
way this is the case with servants, you usually don't pay attention to
them. I'll ring for her to clear and you must take a really good look
this time.
"Yes, thank you Susan. Your cake was delicious, you can clear now and
then you can start preparing dinner, and that will be dinner for two, I
think miss Hunter will stay. Yes, that will be all".
E N D
Blaze
- 14.05.2021
- 14
- 0
My Brother 8217 s Servant Made Me His Slave
- 3 years ago
- 25
- 0
My Mother With Our Young Servant
- 2 years ago
- 18
- 0
