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Paul becomes enthralled by his apartment neighbor down the hall, Kathryn, and submits more-or-less willingly as she turns him into her personal housekeeper. But then Kathryn gets a boyfriend, and things get weird... I do this for you - -- ---- --- --- Chapter 1: Apartment Rape "I read recently in a business journal," Kathryn said, apropos of nothing, "that everyone should spend a minimum of 20 percent of their work time improving *how* they work, rather than just doing the work." "That makes sense," I said, selecting some wineglasses from the cabinet. Kathryn, my apartment neighbor down the hall, had stopped by at my suggestion, to get acquainted. "Yes, it's an excellent rule of thumb; it's how I run my career. And just now, as I was doing the laundry, I realize how much my private life is going to pot." "Oh, I seriously doubt that..." "No, it's true. My place is a mess, I do laundry only every other month," Kathryn frowned for a second. "So just now I've decided to apply the 20-percent rule towards my life as a whole." "Well, makes sense, I guess." "And so, here I am." "So, I'm..." Kathryn smiled at me, pleased that I was catching on so quickly. "That's right. You're my 20 percent." "Well... uh..." I stammered, trying to figure out if what she said was a compliment or not. "Thanks." "Why, you're welcome. So you work at home?" "Yes. I'm a software consultant - really more of a freelance programmer." I sliced opened up the foil on the wine. "But it looks like you've got a steady paycheck... of $8,250 a month?" "What?" I looked up, shocked. Kathryn had picked up my checkbook from the basket on the desk and was flipping through the register. "Hey!" I said. "That's private. I mean, really." I walked over to her. Kathryn was just smiling at me. I should explain about my apartment. It's just a studio, which means that everything is out in the open in one main living area. My sofa folds out into a bed, the end-tables are the same as my nightstands, and at one end of the living room I have my work area which includes a desk with my computer, a filing cabinet, and a bookshelf full of computer manuals. At the other end there's a small dining room table with a few chairs. "I told you I was wild, but you didn't listen," she said, simply. I tried to reach for the checkbook, but Kathryn held it out of reach. "When you said 'wild', I thought that meant things like drinking, drugs, wearing miniskirts, you know, stuff like that." "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" "Uh..." I hesitated, momentarily thrown off course. "No, that's not the point here." "And what is the point?" "The point is that you don't just waltz into someone's apartment and start rooting through their private financial information." I tried again to reach for the checkbook, but Kathryn and I were roughly equal in size, and so she was able to hold me off by simply blocking me with her shoulder. "It's your own fault. This is what you wanted," Kathryn said, with a giggle. "What do you mean, 'This is what I wanted'?" "You were the one who wanted us to get to know each other better. You were practically drooling at the idea of having me in your apartment, weren't you?" "But... but..." I sputtered, "I didn't mean like this!" "Well then, perhaps you should have been more specific?" her smile was wide and confident. I could tell that she was immensely enjoying this verbal tussle. "No, now hold on, there are just certain standards, you know standards of society, which are assumed in social situations..." Kathryn put a finger to my lips and my words just trailed away. I stood there, looking at her, transfixed. She then reached down, took hold of my wrist, turned it over, and gently placed the checkbook into the palm of my hand. It was the most sensuous motion I had ever experienced. "There now," she said, softly. "It's nothing to get all excited about." * * * "Besides," she continued, as we both sat down with a glass of wine. "I'm done with your checkbook, and I've already learned so much about you!" I took a sip of wine to calm my nerves. "Like what?" I asked. Kathryn chose the arm chair, leaving the sofa for me. She sat sideways on the chair, with her legs over one arm and her back supported by the other. This meant that her feet were pointed in my direction. I glanced at her painted toes and watched as she absentmindedly dangled a shoe before me. "Well," she said, thinking for a second. "I learned that you are careful with your finances. You keep your checkbook balanced." "Doesn't everyone?" "Not me. I haven't the time. As long as the balance from the ATM isn't off by more than a thousand dollars, I figure that's close enough." I coughed. "A thousand dollars?" "Sure. Anything less than that isn't worth my time. And I noticed you keep everything balanced to the penny, don't you?" "Uh, yeah. After all, if you're going to do a job..." "Yes, of course," she cut me off. I paused for a second, looking at her toes as they gently swung back and forth. "So," I tore my eyes away from her feet and looked up, "what... ah... do you do for a living?" "I'm a surgeon," she said simply. "Wow!" I said, impressed. "That's really something. What kind of surgeon?" "Cardiac." "Oh my god," my eyes went as wide as saucers. "That means you..." "Pry open people's chests and touch their beating hearts, yes." "Holy cow." And suddenly, I had the weirdest feeling. It was almost as if Kathryn physically grew by a foot before my eyes. One second she was just my neighbor, and in the next she became... I don't know. A power figure... something closer to a goddess, I suppose. It took a few moments before I realized she was still talking. "... and so I'm not the head surgeon or anything, but you know, I feel that if I can just apply Beating Heart Surgery to other types of heart disease..." "I'm sorry," I interrupted. "Did you just say, 'Beating Heart' surgery?" Kathryn smiled, "Yes. It's where you operate on the heart without a heart-lung machine, while the heart is still beating. It's much better for the patient, faster recovery times, less memory loss, and so on." Kathryn stood up and walked over to inspect some of the pictures on my walls. She touched one, tracing her finger lightly over the brush strokes. "Anyway," she continued, "I'm in the process of setting up some clinical trials to try and advance the state of the art, and I'm hoping that will put me in line for head surgeon, but of course, that's years away." "Wow," I said, "that's amazing..." stammering, unable to think of a single thing that I could say which would even come within the same universe of what she had just said. "Mind if I take a look?" Kathryn asked. I looked up. She had placed her wine on the top of my filing cabinet, and had a hand on one of the drawers, about to open it. "Why would you want to look through my files?" I asked, getting up from the sofa. "Please stay seated," Kathryn said. "What?" "I said, please stay seated." "Uh, okaaay..." slowly, I eased back into the sofa, looking at her. This was weird. "I just want to get to know you better. Isn't that what you said you wanted? 'Come over and have a glass of wine, so we can get to know each other better?' Right? So may I look through your files?" "Uh... sure." At least she asked this time, I reasoned to myself. Kathryn opened up the top filing cabinet, and started taking files out. "Boring... boring..." she rifled through the files, clearly an expert. But then, rather than putting the folders back in the cabinet, she just dropped them on the floor. "Hey!" I said, shocked. "Yes?" Kathryn looked at me with an arched eyebrow. "Put those back!" Kathryn looked me directly in the eye, took out a folder bulging with credit card receipts, and then slowly let it's contents spill out onto the floor. "Stop that!" I fairly shouted, jumping up. Kathryn simply stepped between me and the filing cabinet and put a hand on my chest. "Paul," she said. "Yes?" I looked into her eyes. Kathryn placed a finger on my forehead. "Please stay seated," she said "But..." I stammered. "You can clean that up later. Right now, I want to go through your files." Kathryn gently pushed with her finger and I meekly submitted, sinking back down into the sofa. Kathryn walked back to the filing cabinet. A credit card statement had gotten stuck on her heal. She reached down, pulled it off, and inspected it. "Well, nothing interesting here," she said. "Although, several entries have suspiciously vague names. Do you download a lot of internet porn?" "I'll never tell." "Well, let's take a look, shall we?" Kathryn walked over to my desk and tapped the 'ENTER' key on my computer keyboard. The screen lit up. "Awww...." she said, "your screen saver is password protected. Who protects their home computer? You are such a geek." "The truth is out." "So, what's the password?" "Why should I tell you?" "That's a very good question. I suppose I could offer you something in return," Kathryn thought for a second and then snapped her fingers. "I know! I'll let you kiss my toes." "What?" "You heard me well enough." "Well, the answer is no!" "Are you sure?" "Yes!" "Really?" "Absolutely." "Well, okay. But you want to know what I think?" "What?" "I think you really want to kiss my toes. I saw how you were looking at them. And just think, if you give me your computer password, you can. Wouldn't that be nice?" "No." "Well, just think about it. What time is it?" I looked over at the clock on the microwave. "Uh, 4:35." "Okay. Offer expires in twenty-five minutes." * * * Kathryn went back to riffling through my files. Finally, she found some dirt. "Well, what have we here? Divorce papers? You're divorced?" I hid my head in my hands. For some reason, I felt weak and out of breath. "Yes, three years now." "Goodness. And... wow! Look at that settlement. Why Paul, you're a wealthy man." "Not really." "1.2 million dollars. Not shabby. Now I know where those pay checks are coming from. Investments, right?" "Right. I had just enough to move to the city, buy this studio apartment and set up a small revenue stream." "Not that small. So, was she rich?" "No... ah, I started a company and then sold it." "Interesting. But you still work?" "Just for a little extra spending money." "Well, good for you." Kathryn dropped the divorce papers on the floor with all the rest of my files. "Well, I guess I'm done with your filing cabinet. My goodness, this is a lot of paper," she said, pushing the papers across the floor with her feet. I just groaned. "They're just stupid file folders. It's not like I'm really hurting anything." Kathryn walked over to my end table/nightstand. "Now, let's see what you have in here," she said as she opened the drawer. "NO!" I slid quickly across the sofa and slammed it shut. "Please let go, Paul," she said, simply. "No!" I said. "Just leave! You are no longer invited here!" Kathryn rolled her eyes. "You know what I'm doing, don't you?" she asked. I looked up at her. "No, what?" "You are being raped." My heart jumped up into my throat. "Raped?" I whispered. "That's right. I'm raping your mind. I'm prying into your personal affairs, opening up your private spaces, and poking into every nook and cranny of your life. And you're going to let me. You're going to sit on that sofa and watch me gather all of the information that I need to completely control you." Kathryn walked over to my closet and opened it. At first she just pulled out a few pieces of clothing, looking them over, checking the labels, and so on. But then, she grabbed an armful of clothes, and dumped them on the floor. "Stop! Please! Get out!" I was blubbering, beside myself. "Please stop!! Why are you doing this?" I felt violated and abused. I jumped up. "YOU SIT BACK DOWN RIGHT NOW!!" she said firmly. Shocked at the intensity of her voice, I shrank back down to the sofa. "That's better. Now stay." Kathryn reached up and pulled down a box from the closet shelf. The contents (old printouts, high-school memorabilia, family photos, correspondence, old love letters, etc.) spilled onto the floor. "PLEASE!!! Why are you doing this???" Kathryn looked at me and smiled. "I told you. I'm raping your mind. You are totally mind-fucked now, my friend!" "But why???" "You're my 20 percent," she said simply. "But what's that mean???" "I think the real question is this: why aren't you stopping me? Why aren't you wrestling me to the ground and forcing me out, or calling the police? Or getting one of our neighbors to help? Or calling the Super? Why are you just sitting there?" "I don't know... maybe... because you told me to?" I asked, feebly. "Exactly." Kathryn walked over to the nightstand again, purposefully kicking the files around the apartment as she walked. The room was a war zone. Quickly I intercepted her, and held the nightstand shut. "But Paul," she said sweetly, "you and I both know that the nightstand is the very best part, don't we?" Kathryn reached down to the nightstand and grasped the handle of the drawer. "All of a person's most deep, most dark desires are in his nightstand, isn't that right? All of the things you least wish for me to find out." Kathryn pulled on the nightstand drawer, but I held it shut. She looked deep into my eyes, our faces just inches apart. I could smell her lipstick, her shampoo, and the wine on her breath. Kathryn placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. "You know what?" she whispered, into my ear, "I think you are actually enjoying having your little mind fucked and raped by me. In fact, I'm absolutely certain of it. I bet your little penis is rock hard, right now, isn't it?" My eyes glanced down, ever so briefly. "Ha!" she said, "I knew it. Now, I just need to complete my rape, by inspecting your nightstand. And you are going to let me do it. Because deep, deep, *deep* down inside, you want me to, don't you?" My breath was coming out in shallow gasps. I began to shiver, as if the room were suddenly freezing cold. Slowly, ever so slowly, Kathryn pulled on the drawer of the nightstand... ...and my hands just fell away. "Very good," she said. "I think we understand each other now, don't we?" "Yes," I said in a hoarse whisper. "That's right. I am going to rape your mind and destroy your apartment, and you are going to sit quietly and let me. Isn't that right?" I couldn't answer. All I could do is hide my face. I felt a tear leak out of one eye and roll down my cheek. "Good boy. Now, would you like to kiss my toes? I only ask, because there's just two minutes before your time's up." Leaving the nightstand drawer gaping open, Kathryn placed a foot on my crotch. I felt her sandal on my penis. With a deep blush, I realized that my cock really was hard, just like she said. She rolled the sandal around for a few seconds. "So, ready to tell me that password and collect your reward?" She asked. I looked up at her. I had never met a truly dominant woman before, but here she was, looking me in the face, and demanding my computer passwords. Her face didn't look harsh, or cruel, or evil. She was smiling and looked merely amused at my predicament. How had she known? How was she able to read me so well? How did she know she would be able to manipulate me into this position, her foot on my hard cock, demanding that I give in and open my soul completely to her inspection? I looked down at her toes. She wiggled them for me. "Beautiful toes..." I said. "Yes they are. And wouldn't you just love to give each one of them a little kiss? I just know you would." "ah...." I hesitated. By now, her dominance over me was firmly established. So after a couple of seconds, I realized that I had no choice. "Okay," I said. "Okay, what?" "I'll tell you my password." "Excellent," Kathryn closed her eyes for a second, enjoying the moment. I looked at her in shock, realizing for the first time how much she was enjoying this. Kathryn went over to the computer and pressed 'ENTER'. The screen lit up. "What is it?" she asked. "Ah.... It's l-i-c-k-n-8-P-s-y," for the second time, I felt my face grow hot and red. Kathryn laughed out loud. "Oh my god!" she exclaimed, "you can't be serious! Lick and eat pussy?? This is just too precious for words!" She reached for the keyboard. "Wait, what was it again?" I blushed deeper, having to say it again. "l-i-c-k-n-8... the number eight... -P... upper case P... -s-y" I said. Kathryn typed the password and the computer screensaver unlocked. "We're in!" she said, delighted, sitting down in my desk chair. I watched as Kathryn squirmed a bit on the chair. Was this making her sexually excited?? "Paul?" she asked. "Yes?" "What time is it?" I looked over at the microwave clock. "It's, uh, 5:02." "Oh, too bad. I guess you were too slow." "What????" I was incensed. "What do you mean too slow?" "The offer expired. So sorry." "You can't do that to me!" Kathryn just looked over at me with a hard stare. "Really?" she asked. "Well, I mean... it's just not fair." "Well, it looks like next time you'll have to be faster, now won't you? I think this is an important lesson for you to learn. When I make an offer, you accept it right away. Before you miss out. Or before I make it worse for you..." she said, cryptically. I slumped back on the sofa and pounded the seat cushion in frustration. Damn it! * * * "Now let's see what we've got here," she started clicking through my computer files, "boring, boring, boring... ooh, look! Porno!" "Oh god..." I flopped down on the sofa, hiding my face in the throw pillows. "Let's see... vanilla, vanilla, vanilla... geez you got a lot of blondes on here. Oh look! Spanking pictures! Well, well, well." Kathryn clicked her tongue as she scanned through the pictures. "So, you like spanking?" "I'm not talking." "Do you like spanking women, or being spanked?" "I'm not talking." Kathryn rolled her eyes. "Okay. Let's take a look at your bookmarks," she launched the web browser and opened up the bookmarks page. "Stupid computer sites, stupid computer sites, stupid computer sites," she clicked through the bookmark folders rapidly. "Now here we are. Let's see. Penthouse, playboy - yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever... spanking - we already know about that. Oh look, panties!" Kathryn swiveled my desk chair to face me. "Do you like women's panties?" she asked, coyly. "Well sure, who doesn't?" I replied. "Do you like seeing them, kissing them, smelling them, or wearing them?" I just crossed my arms and glared at her. "Would you like to look at my panties?" she said. Suddenly my eyes went wide. "What do you mean?" "Simple question. Would you like to look at my panties?" "Sure..." I said. "Okay! Just wanted to know." Kathryn swiveled back to the computer and continued clicking through it's contents. "What? You're not going to show them to me?" I whined. "Nope!" she said. "But... Oh my god. You're such a tease." "Yup!" "That's not nice." "Sometimes, not being nice is being nice. Isn't that right?" * * * Kathryn finished with my computer without finding anything else interesting. "Okay, let's check out this nightstand, and then I guess I'm done with you." Kathryn pulled the drawer of the nightstand completely out, turned it over, and dumped the contents on the floor. "Porno... more porno... condoms... Hoping to get lucky? Wait, what's this?" She held up a plastic zip-lock bag holding a pair of panties. "Did you buy these off the internet?" "No!" "Then, where did they come from." "uh...." "You might as well tell me. I already know everything else there is to know about you." "Umm... They are my ex-wife's panties." "You masturbate while smelling your wife's panties?" "No!" "Right. And so they're sealed in a plastic bag for exactly what reason?" "I... It's because..." "I thought so. So, I guess it was she who divorced you, wasn't it?" "Yes..." "And here you are, letting another nasty woman root through all your stuff and wreck your apartment? Didn't you learn your lesson the first time? Are you some kind of idiot?" I winced at her biting assessment. "My shrink said I needed to learn how to trust again..." "And how do you think it's going?" I laughed bitterly. "Not so well." "Oh, I think you may be surprised," she said, as she dropped the panties on the floor and went to the other nightstand. "I bet that tonight, after you've spent all night getting your place back in order, you'll look back on this little episode and find you have the irresistible urge to masturbate. I just bet." Kathryn pulled out my other nightstand drawer and tipped it's contents on the floor. "Ooh!" she said. "Lubricant, anal probe. You like anal play?" "No... uh... it's for prostate health." "Hah! That's a good one. Look at the size of that tube of KY. No one needs that much prostate health. And what's this?" Kathryn reached down, pushed aside a magazine, and picked up a bit of pink underwear. "More panties? Nylon ones, this time? With lace? Whose are these, Paul?" Kathryn looked at me, curiously. "I refuse to answer." "They're not your ex-wife?s panties, are they? No woman would wear something this trashy." I looked at her, not saying a word. "I knew it. I just bet these are yours, aren't they? Did you actually go to the store and purchase a pair of panties just for yourself?" "I'm not saying a word." But Kathryn saw the look in my eyes. "And what do you do with these panties?" she asked. "Do you masturbate in them?" "Unh uh..." "Do you *wear* them?" "No!" I said, a little too loudly. "Oooh, a little testy, are we?" Kathryn dropped the panties on the floor, "looks like I've hit a nerve, haven't I?" "No... please... no..." but my protestations were pretty unconvincing. "It's okay, Paul, it really is. In fact, it's more than okay. Isn't it? Because now that you've been mind-raped, I know soooo much about you, don't I? I know all your innermost secrets and desires." "Kathryn..." I pleaded. "I think the question is, what am I going to do with this knowledge? Yes, that's the question, isn't it?" Kathryn fetched her glass from the top of the cabinet and downed the rest of her wine. "Well, time for me to go. It's been fun." And then she just walked out the door, leaving me sitting on the sofa, with the contents of my apartment laying all over the apartment. * * * Chapter 2: Laundry "I'm out of laundry, again." "Excuse me?" "Aren't you going to invite me in?" "Ahhh..." I looked at Kathryn through the doorway. It was 8am, and she was dressed for work in a slightly rumpled, but otherwise nice, tailored suit. "Uh, sure," I closed the door, undid the chain, and then opened it wide to let her in. "I need all of my laundry done, preferably before I get home tonight." "Okay," I said, puzzled. Kathryn held up a key. "Great. Take this key, go into my apartment, and do my laundry. Take the dry-clean only items to the dry-cleaner, and machine wash the rest," Kathryn turned to leave. "Hold on a second! You want *me* to do your laundry?" "Yes," she said, simply, with a slight smile that all but dared me to object. "But..." I sputtered, stunned by her gall. "Why should I? What do I get out of this?" "I noticed you didn't say 'no'." "No!" I said, instantly. "I mean, no! Of course not." "Too late! Listen, we both know that you want to do this. Think of everything you'll be getting out of this deal. First, you'll have access to my apartment. My 'inner temple'," Kathryn giggled. "Second, you'll get to touch my clothes. Think of it," she gestured to the clothes that she was wearing: a nice simple blouse and tailored suit, "you will be handling clothes which have been caressing my body all day, soaking up my body smells, clothes which have been rubbing up against my naked skin and nestled within my most intimate places and crevices..." I felt my penis shift in my pants. What the fuck? Kathryn stepped closer to me, uncomfortably close. "And third," she said in a husky voice, "you'll be serving me. Which I think we both know, is what you desire more than anything else. To serve a woman. A deserving woman. A dominating woman. Isn't that right?" I stepped back and shook my head for a second to clear it. "Listen, Kathryn, this is ridiculous. Why don't you just take your clothes to the cleaners and have them do it. I'm sure you can afford it." "Too much trouble. It would be much easier for me if my clothes just magically cleaned themselves. Or rather, if some little elf - for example, a little elf who lived just down the hall... for example, in this very room... who's name is Paul..." Kathryn grinned at me, "for example, a little subservient elf like you, who worships me and wants to please me..." I put a hand in my pocket, trying desperately to cover the growing bulge in my crotch. "...just automatically picked up all of my dirty laundry and cleaned it for me," Kathryn finished. "Every Monday." "EVERY MONDAY?" I gasped. "No way. I'm sorry... tempting," I tried to be sarcastic, "but no." "So we're negotiating. Okay, fine. Let's make the job more demanding then, shall we?" "What do you mean, *more* demanding?" "Oh, I don't know..." Kathryn thought for a second, "Okay, how about this: I demand that you hand-wash all of my lingerie." "What???" "That's right. Before I allow you to do my laundry, you must agree to hand-wash all of my lingerie." "No!" "Still not enough?" Kathryn cut me off. "Fine. Now I am making you fold and put away all of my laundry as well." "Kathryn please..." "Think of it Paul, you'll be required - by me - to open my drawers and closets and replenish them with clean clothes. Privileged access!" "Stop this! I am telling you, once and for all, I don't want to do your laundry for you!" "So I see you want me to make the job even more difficult for you!" "Will you please stop???" "Honey," Kathryn said, sweetly, "the more you protest, the harder and more demanding the job will get. And the longer it will take you to complete it each week." "Just go. Please, just leave me alone." "Well okay. I had no idea how much you wanted to prove your devotion to me. How about this? You must now inspect all of my pantyhose for runs or wear. If any are damaged, you must go to the store and replace them..." "Oh... now you are just going too far." "...using your own money. As a gift to me," Kathryn said, with a supremely confident gaze. "I can't believe this," I groaned. "What you don't seem to realize is how well I know you. How much I know that each of these demands is making you more and more enthralled and more and more desperate to submit. Your conscious mind may not be ready to admit it, but deep down, I know you want this." "You're wrong." "Really? Well, let's make things a little more interesting then. A little more personal?" Kathryn ran a fingernail lightly down my arm. More intimate?" She paused for a second, thinking carefully. "Now this one is totally delicious," she continued. "I require that you smell every single piece of clothing in the apartment before you wash it." My eyes opened up round as saucers. "What did you just say?" Kathryn smiled. "Each piece of clothing, right? I want you to find the dirtiest, smelliest part, and hold it right up to your nose, and take a deep whiff. This is what I *demand* of you before I allow you to be of service to me." "But... why...?" I could feel my independence starting to slip away. "All I want is a simple 'yes'," Kathryn said. "No debate. No backtalk. No questions. Just 'yes'. Until then, we keep upping the ante. Next demand: every time you smell a piece of clothing, you must say, out- loud, 'I worship this smell.'" "I worship this smell," I repeated, as if in a trance. "That's still not 'yes'," she said. "And for every pair of panties, before you wash them, you must plant a nice, worshipful kiss on the inside crotch, at the point where the gusset is the dirtiest." "Yes." Kathryn stopped. "What was that?" she asked. "Yes," I said, just a bit louder. "Very good, my little elf," Kathryn smiled warmly at me. "I expect to be home by 6:30pm, so I want all my laundry done by 5pm at the latest, just to be safe. Do you understand?" "Yes," I said, eyes downcast. "I do not want to hear from you, I do not want to see you, I do not want to know that you even exist. All I want is for my clothes to be magically clean every Monday evening. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" "Yes, Kathryn." "Excellent! Here's the key." And with that, she left. - - - - - - So many dirty clothes. Soiled clothes. Soiled with sweat, and underarms, and feet, and her anus, and vaginal emissions. Dresses and pants suits draped over chairs. Socks randomly strewn about. Piles of underwear next to the bed. A clothes hamper in the bathroom stuffed full, and then overflowing on the floor. So many very damp, musky, fragrant clothes... all of which I would need to smell, many of which I would need to kiss... My penis was getting hard. Damn, I thought to myself. Already? "Beep! Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt." My ears perked up. I picked my way into what must be her study where I saw the fax machine ejecting a piece of paper. 'CONTRACTUAL AGREEMENT FOR PAUL BENSON' the paper said. I picked up the paper and read it. CONTRACTUAL AGREEMENT FOR PAUL BENSON I, Paul Benson, agree to provide weekly laundry service to Kathryn McDonough. I further agree to the following terms and conditions: 1. I will clean all of the dirty clothes that I find in Kathryn McDonough's apartment. 2. Clothes will be cleaned every Monday between 10am and 5pm. No Monday may be skipped for any reason, including holidays. 3. All clothes, except those which require dry cleaning, will be cleaned personally by Paul Benson. 4. For each and every item of clothing I find in Kathryn's apartment, I will gladly perform the following ritual: a. I will locate the most soiled spot on the clothing. b. I will hold this spot to my nose, and will breath in deeply through my nose - making sure to get the most pungent possible smell of the soiled garment. c. As I breath in, I will say, out-loud: "I worship this smell." 5. If the garment is a pair of panties, briefs, or underpants, I will find the inside gusset, the part of the underwear which was in the most intimate contact with the wearer's crotch, and I will place a 'worshipful kiss' on it, while contemplating how lucky I am to have the job of being Kathryn's launderer. 6. If the garment is a pair of pantyhose, I will inspect the pantyhose carefully for runs, and if I find any I will replace the pantyhose with a similar pair, using my own funds. 7. I will hand-wash all items of lingerie. This means carefully following the instructions, and washing these delicate items in a sink or basin using my bare hands as much as possible. 8. Once clean and dry, I will fold and return all clothes to their proper location within Kathryn's apartment. 9. If I damage any piece of clothing, I realize that I will need to replace it with an item of equal if not better quality at my own expense. 10. Further, I will bear all costs for this service, including all cleaning supplies and dry-cleaner bills. 11. I agree to forfeit any right of termination. I understand that only Kathryn may terminate this agreement, and that I must perform these services, at her pleasure, for as long as she may desire them. Signed, your humble servant: ______________________________ I looked that the paper in amazement. No termination clause? Every Monday? No vacations? What was she thinking? I walked back to her bedroom, reading the contract a second time. On the bed, I noticed a pair of light pink cotton panties. I picked them up. They were so small! How could she fit in these? How they must cling to her body when she wears them. I looked carefully at the delicate lace trim around the waistband. Gently, I opened them up, and looked inside. Oh. The crotch was still damp. Had she been wearing these last night? Did she just take them off this morning? Could that be possible? I held the damp crotch to my nose and took a deep, deep, smell. "I worship this smell," I said to myself. The scent was heavenly. What an amazingly earthy, musky, damp, rich, intimate smell... I almost couldn't get enough. And to think, Kathryn had DEMANDED that I do this. She gave me this job, she knew that I would be right here, holding her intimate garment to my nose, breathing her bodily smells.... I held up the damp crotch to my lips and kissed it. "I am so lucky to have this job," I realized to myself. And tomorrow, I realized, Kathryn will be wearing these panties, or perhaps some other pair which I have just washed. And as she puts them on, she might remember that I was in her apartment on Monday, smelling her scent, and kissing the crotch. And maybe as she slips them up her legs and they nestle into her curves, between her pussy lips, nestled into the valley between her cheeks... maybe she would feel something a little different? Might she remember that the crotch of the panties had been kissed? Maybe it would give her a little tingle? Almost as if I had placed the kiss directly on her pussy? I squirmed as I thought of the possibilities. I noticed a pair of cotton socks stuffed into her sneakers at the foot of the bed. I pulled one out and held it to my nose, breathing deeply. "I worship this smell," I said. This time the smell was danker, darker, less pleasant. She must exercise in these shoes, I realized. I thought of her feet inside the socks, which lead me to open up the socks to the insides, so I could put my nose as close as possible to exactly where her sweaty toes had been. I took anther smell. Ohhhh.... I squirmed some more. "I worship this smell," I said again. I looked up, and caught my reflection in a large wall mirror she had hung on the opposite side of her bedroom. There I was, a grown man, kneeling, holding a dirty sock to his face, and smelling it. What was wrong with me??? I quickly got up and gathered all of the dirty clothes from the entire apartment into the living room where I sorted them into piles: light, dark, shirts, lingerie, and dry clean. The piles were enormous! My god, I thought, she sure has a lot of clothes. I wondered if she had done any laundry since two months ago, when she had borrowed laundry detergent from me the first time. So many clothes. So many clothes which I have to smell and worship. My penis, which had been hard the entire time, throbbed again in anticipation. But wait, I thought, I don't have go through with this. There is no way she would know. I could just wash them and return them. I don't have to smell them, chant my little worship phrase, kiss the crotch, or any of that. I don't even have to wash the lingerie by hand, a gentle cycle on the washing machine would be good enough. I took a look at the contract which I had placed on the coffee table in the living room. Key words leapt out at me: "... gladly... most pungent... worship... intimate..." Slowly I sank down to my knees in front of the first pile, the shirts. Taking the first one, a long-sleeved clingy turtleneck, I opened it inside out, exposing the inside. Locating the arm-pit, I held it to my nose and breathed in. Deodorant. Sweat. And the tangy smell of her armpit. Oh god... my head blitzed for a second, this piece of fabric had been tucked against her sweaty, smelly armpit all day, and here I was smelling it. And loving it. "I worship this smell," I said. I repeated the procedure for all of her other shirts, noticing how the deodorant was more or less successful on varying days. I began to notice how I enjoyed those where the deodorant had lost the battle - the more rank, the better. Suddenly I realized how my desires were getting all twisted. Next was the dry-cleaning. The new smell here was perfume. The perfume which she had placed between her breasts, on her neck, at her wrists... it was now in her clothes, and I was smelling it. I went through each dress, each skirt, each pair of dress pants, and each expensive blouse, examining them carefully and holding them to my face and smelling them deeply. "I worship this smell," I said, each time falling a little more in love. The light and the dark was mostly casual pants, socks, exercise clothes, and T-Shirts. And so these smells were so much more sweaty, dark, rank, a few almost rose the level of foul. The socks had the smell of dirty feet, sweat, cotton, and tennis shoes. The exercise clothes... oh! Did she even wear deodorant when she went exercising? I even found a T-shirt which was still damp with sweat. "I worship this smell," I said, almost in a trance. Finally, the lingerie. Each piece was such a range of wonderful smells. I could smell baby powder, sweaty breasts, underarms, ass crack, musky/sweaty crotch, and best of all, her vagina. Her pussy. Her cunt. Which could be anything from damp and rich, to caked, to a biting ammonia smell. Did she masturbate in these? I wondered. "I worship this smell," I said, completely submitting to my job, now. And with each 'worshipful' kiss on each gusset of each pair of panties, I came a little closer. And with a kiss on the last one, I just held the crotch to my face, squirmed a little, and then orgasmed. Right there on her living room floor. * * * For the rest of the day, I marveled at how Kathryn had so fully come to know me that she could have created my job. How did she know that I would respond so favorably? After starting the first load of darks in her machine, I ran the dry cleaning down to the dry cleaners across the street. Because it was already afternoon, I had to pay double for the 2-hour service. In my newly-found submissive frame of mind, each and every line of the contract seemed like a zinger direct to my sexual pulse. All dirty clothes, every Monday without fail, all clothes to be washed personally by me, no right of termination - each of these felt tight and restrictive, like a pair of handcuffs or a rope: an unbreakable bond which was forcing me to do this job. Stronger than physical bonds, these were cinched around my life, and drawing tighter and tighter. And I was submitting willingly. Eager, even. Doing the lingerie by hand was nice, though not nearly as nice as the ritual I had just been through. But at least I could give each and every item individual attention again, admiring how it must look wrapped tightly around her body. After rinsing thoroughly, I carefully hung each item up to dry, using some clothesline rope and clothespins that I fetched from my own apartment. As I put the next load of laundry into the machine, I looked at the time. Shit! It was already 2pm! I still had four, maybe five loads to go. I computed the time out, and realized that there was no possible way for me to finish all of her laundry before the 5pm deadline. I thought frantically... what to do? Quickly, I stripped her bed of sheets. Might as well wash her sheets, as well, I realized. Then, with a second inspiration, I gathered up all her bath towels as well. Gathering everything into two large bundles, I lugged everything downstairs. Looking something like the hunchback of Notre Dame, I slung the bundles over my shoulder, and walked two blocks to the laundromat. Yes! The place was practically empty. With all of the towels and sheets, and the remaining loads, I filled up 8 machines and set them all washing simultaneously. An hour and a half later, I was back in the apartment and all her clothes were washed and ready to be put away. As I put her clothes away, moving quickly and efficiently, I again marveled at how Kathryn must have nailed my personality. How did she know I would respond so perfectly to her demands? How did she know that being forced to be in intimate contact with her soiled laundry would make me so addicted to this job? I opened a drawer, trying to find where to put the bras. Oh my god! It was practically full to overflowing with sex toys. Vibrators, anal probes, butterflies... Blushing, I slammed the drawer back shut. But here was another example. How did Kathryn know that I could be trusted? That I wouldn't just rob her apartment and disappear? How did she know that I wouldn't start taking her things and using them myself? Somehow she knew. I finally finished the folding and putting away. Locating the linen closet, I found an unused set of sheets. Swapping them for the newly washed set, I made her bed, and then did the same swap with a new set of bathroom towels. There. All finished. And it was just now 4:58. Just one more thing to do. And so I went to the living room coffee table, pulled out a pen, signed the contract, and left. * * * Chapter 3: Maid Service I spent the next week in fear of having done something wrong. Some small infraction which would cause Kathryn to call me up, scolding. Then, after a few days with no word from Kathryn, I had quite the opposite reaction. "Why doesn't she call?" I asked myself, over and over. "Why doesn't she call and thank me, at least?" I was proud of the work I had done. Amazed that I had been able to do so much laundry in so little time, and, I thought, I had done a good job. And the sheets! I had replaced her sheets with fresh ones, even though that wasn't in the contract. But still nothing. Then next Monday, I stepped inside, eager to see if there was some note, some letter... something which indicated that Kathryn had been pleased with my work. As I searched through the apartment collecting her dirty clothes, my heart sank. Nothing. No indication of any kind that Kathryn had been delighted with the job I had done. Just more dirty clothes. But as I went through the ritual of worshiping her soiled laundry, I realized something: Just being able to get back into the apartment was indication enough. She must have approved, or I wouldn't even be here, smelling and kissing her intimates, washing, folding and replacing the things that she wore every day. Things continued pretty much the same over the next few months. During that entire time, I never saw Kathryn, not even in the hall. Our schedules were too different. The amount of laundry, after that first massive effort, was not too bad. Usually I could get in and out in just a few hours. I threw away all of her old laundry supplies, soap, stain sticks, fabric softener sheets, etc. and replaced them with my own. If she minded, she never mentioned it. And every week, after the laundry was done, I would go back to my apartment, and masturbate. Life was good. * * * "Kathryn!" I exclaimed, opening the door. "Hi there Paul," she said with a warm smile. My legs gave out for a second as if I were going to kneel in front of her, but I caught myself and stood back up. Holy shit, what had I just almost done? Kathryn grinned. She stepped into my apartment carrying six shopping bags full of clothes, led me over to a chair by my dining table, placed the bags on the table, and told me to sit. I sat. "I must say," she said, selecting a wine bottle from my cabinet and opening it, "it has been so nice to have my laundry done every week." A jolt of pleasure shot through my body. She noticed! She was happy! The sense of relief that flooded through my body made me dizzy. "And you do such a good job," Kathryn continued, pouring herself a glass of cabernet and coming over to stand in front of me. "In fact, I don't need to think about it at all. I just drop my dirty clothes wherever, and *poof*! Magically they are cleaned and returned the next Monday. And did I notice that one of my blouses is new?" "Ah, yes. It got damaged by the dry cleaners. I hope I found a suitable replacement..." I hope so! The replacement had cost me almost 90 dollars. "The replacement was beautiful. In fact, all your work is better than I could have ever have hoped for. Thank you, Paul." "It has been my pleasure," I said sincerely. "Oh, I know that," Kathryn said, with an evil twinkle in her eye. "And now, I think it's time to give you even more pleasure. How would like to be abused and taken advantage of even more?" "I... ah..." I hesitated. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? To have more of your life enslaved to my everyday needs? Tell me 'yes', Paul, and I'll make it happen. You know I will." "Ah..." I froze up. What was I getting myself into? Already I had given her my Mondays. The impact wasn't enormous, but I had begun noticed that it was eating into my free time. I did have a regular job, after all. "Just say yes," Kathryn said. She placed a hand on my shoulder. "I don't know... I mean..." "Say yes," she said, stroking my face warmly. I melted. "Yes," I whispered. "Excellent," Kathryn said, rewarding me with a light peck on the cheek. Putting her glass of wine down, she stood behind me and placed both her hands on my shoulders. "I need a maid," she said, simply. "Who will clean the place from top to bottom and make it sparkle, every Thursday." "I cant!" I tried to stand up, but Kathryn grasped my shoulders tightly and forced me back down. "Of course you can," she said, simply. "No, I really can't. Thursdays I am expected to be in the office for staff meetings. There's nothing I can do about it." "Oh, I'm sure you'll work it out," Kathryn said, unimpressed, "but I can see that you'll need some extra persuasion..." Suddenly, I felt my heart skip a beat. "Extra persuasion?" I croaked. "Yes," she said, smoothly, "like more demands. More burdensome, humiliating, evil demands." "Humiliating?" "Yes, of course, humiliating! Don't you think I know you by now? Don't you think I know exactly how to get you to do what I want?" "uh...." "And so how should I make your maid service ever so deliciously demanding and humiliating? How, I wonder?" Kathryn pretended to think, while I squirmed. "Let's see. Of course the job requires that you do a thorough job. You need to pick up the place, do as much filing and storage on your own as possible, vacuum, sweep, scrub the tub, do the toilets..." I began to shiver. "Okay, how about this: My first demand is that you kiss the toilet seat before you clean it." "Kiss the toilet seat?" "Yes! Kiss the toilet seat, and say 'I worship the ass which touched this seat'." "I'm sorry Kathryn, but really, this time, I just can't..." "Okay then, now for my second command. Have you seen some of my sex toys by the bed?" "Yes," I blushed. "And you've noticed that some of them have been, well... used?" "Uh..." "It's okay. I'm sure you've looked at them. Go ahead, you can admit it." "Yes, I... ah... guess I did notice that some were used." So used, in fact, that some were positively slimy with vaginal lubrication. "Very good! Okay, my second demand is that you clean all of my used vibrators - with your tongue." "Oh god," I moaned. "This is going too far!" I had to stop this. "Please, Kathryn, please stop." I started to get up.... ... but was held in place as Kathryn sat in my lap with an arm over my shoulder, pinning me to the seat. "What?" Kathryn asked, mockingly, "the job is still not demanding and humiliating enough for you? Well then, did you wonder what was in these bags?" I looked at the bags on the table. "No," I said, hesitantly. "They are clothes for you to wear," Kathryn said simply. "Clothes which will make your job ever so much more interesting... I'm sure." Suddenly, time seemed to hold still. I held my breath. "Now, here is how this is going to work. I'm going to pull each item of clothing out of the bag. Each piece is something you must wear when you clean my apartment. I won't have it any other way. And I'm going to keep pulling items out until I hear you say 'yes'. Do you understand me?" I nodded. "Very good." Kathryn reached into the first bag and pulled out... ... a pair of white cotton panties. I gasped. "What's the big deal?" she asked, impishly. "They're just a plain white pair of WOMEN's panties. The kind that a WOMAN might wear while doing housework. You know, like the housework you will be doing for me each Thursday, isn't that right?" "No...." I moaned, feeling my willpower slipping a little. Kathryn stroked my cheek with the panties. "But yes," she said, softly. "Oh, and in case you're wondering whether they fit or not, they fit." "But how....?" "Easy. When I raped your apartment? Remember way back then? Well, I checked the labels on your clothes for size. You're a 32/32 pants, a 15 1/2 32-33 shirt, and a 9 1/2 shoe. One thing about being a surgeon, you learn to have a good memory for statistics." I looked at her, speechless. She knew my size. I couldn't believe it. What was I dealing with? "I can see that this is still not enough. Okay, moving on to the next item..." Kathryn pulled out a bra and placed it before me. "... and here we have a WOMAN's plain nylon bra. Again, very basic, very simple, the kind of bra that WOMEN wear every day without thinking about it. Have you ever worn a bra before, Paul?" I shook my head. "Really? I'm surprised. I through you might have. Well, that just makes this all the more delicious, doesn't it? My forcing you to try all these new experiences, just because I want it. Isn't this nice?" "No," I said. "Ha! You're loving this. Don't deny it. But still, I don't hear you saying 'YES'. Where is the 'YES', Paul?" I held my tongue and looked away, my eyes tightly shut. "Now, now, no need to do that," she said, turning my head back to the bags of clothes. "Let's move on to the next item, shall we?" Kathryn reached into the bag and pulled out another package. "Stockings. What do you think?" Against my will, I opened my eyes. They were white thigh-high stockings. The kind with elastic with a rubber lining at the top so they would stay up on their own. "Notice that they're white?" Kathryn asked. "What kind of WOMAN wears WHITE stockings? Any idea?" I shook my head. "Women who work for a living. Specifically, WOMEN who work in the SERVICE industry. And so answer me this, would you call doing my housework a SERVICE or a PRODUCT? Which would it be, Paul?" "Please..." "Answer me. Is housework a SERVICE or a PRODUCT? Which is it?" "A service," I muttered. "That's right! Good for you! This means that if you do my housework, in ADDITION to my laundry, you'd be doing me a service, wouldn't you? Now, doesn't that mean you'd be in the SERVICE business? Or maybe, the SERVICE INDUSTRY? Hmmm?" "I guess." "Yes, of course. And what kind of WOMEN wear white stockings? Now think back, I just gave you the answer. Tell me, Paul, what kind of WOMEN wear white stockings?" "Women in the service industry," I said. "But wait! Wouldn't YOU be wearing white stockings, Paul? Wouldn't you be wearing white stockings while performing the important SERVICE of cleaning my home? Isn't that right? So what does that make you, since it's only WOMEN in the SERVICE industry that wear white stockings? What are you, then, Paul?" I kept my mouth shut. "No matter. Well, since I haven't heard a 'yes' yet, and since I'm ever so much enjoying myself, let's see what we have next, shall we?" Kathryn opened up the second bag and pulled out a shoebox. Opening it up, she showed them to me. "Pumps. Grey. I think they'll go great with your stockings, don't you? And look, only a 2-inch heel, you'll get used to that in no time, won't you? Yes, I'm sure you will." I looked at the shoes, feeling myself slipping deeper and deeper into Kathryn's clutches. This was impossible! My only hope was to keep my mouth shut until she had completely exhausted all of her clothes options, and then say 'NO'. Could I do it? "Ooo!" Kathryn said, excitedly, hugging me close. "I suddenly realized something! This is the first piece of clothing I've shown you that you can't hide under your normal clothes." "Oh my god..." "That's right. Now you're out in the open, aren't you? Should have said 'yes' before I pulled them out, shouldn't you have? Oh, and did I mention that you will be required to dress in your own apartment? That means you'll have to walk across the hall all dressed up. Hope you don't meet someone in the hall! What if you do? Wouldn't that be terribly embarrassing?" "It won't matter. I'm not saying yes. I'm not!" "We'll see about that. I mean, I can feel you weakening already. Just think, Paul, if you say 'yes', you will be FORCED to wear... let's see... WOMEN's panties to cup your penis, a WOMEN's bra to caress your nipples... WOMEN's stockings over your legs, and now... WOMEN's shoes. High-heeled shoes at that. And now, let's see what's next?" Kathryn pulled out a small box and then opened it. "Earrings??" I said, shocked, looking at the plain gold studs before me. "That's right, earrings! And look, they are for pierced ears! Why, Paul! You'll have to go to the piercing parlor down the street and get your ears pierced," Kathryn pinched my ear lobes. "Not what you were expecting, was it? Makes you think, doesn't it? Makes you wonder how far I'm willing to take this? Don't you think you better say 'YES' before things really get out of hand??" Suddenly, I began to panic. "But wait!" Kathryn got up from my lap and reached over to the largest bag. "Your next item is a maid's uniform!" I looked on in horror as she pulled out a complete maid's uniform and held it out before me. It was grey, matching the shoes, with white trim, but otherwise very straight and plain. Exactly the kind of uniform that someone working in housekeeping might wear in posh hotel. "Now you've really gone and done it," Kathryn said. "If only you had said yes last time! Now you'll have to dress up in a maid's uniform, before you cross the hall to do housekeeping on my apartment. Isn't that just wonderful? My very own maid! I just can't believe how lucky I am. My very own maid who adores me so much, that she wants me to make her own job ever so much more difficult for her, just to prove herself to me! But then, I think this is actually what you want, isn't it? To be humiliated like this?" "No, I don't! I swear!" "Well then, what are you going to say?" Kathryn reached slowly into the bag again, and then began to gradually, ever so slowly, pull something out, the tissue paper rustling. "Shall I continue, or shall I keep going?" I watched, panicked, as Kathryn began to pull something else out of the bag. Something white and lacy. Finally, I made up my mind. "Yes!" I said, quickly. "Too late!" she said, with an evil grin. She pulled out a lacy tea apron and placed it on top of the maid's uniform. "Now, what did I hear you say?" "Yes," I said, hastily. "Yes, please, yes..." "Yes, what?" I gulped. "Yes, I'll clean your apartment every Thursday." "Very good. And what else?" "No... please... I can't wear that uniform!" "Okay then!" Kathryn reached into the bag again. "Stop! Okay! Yes, I'll wear the uniform too!" "Too late!" Kathryn pulled out a wide piece of foundation wear, made of stretch satin. "It's a waist cinch," she said. "And I think it's probably one or two sizes too small for you. Now what were you saying?" "Yes, I'll wear the uniform too..." I said, now completely defeated. "And what else?" "Uh...." I looked at the table. "Right, I'll wear the uniform, the apron, the shoes, the stockings, the panties, the waist cinch, and the bra." "And the earrings?" I gritted my teeth. "Yes, and the earrings." "Which means, of course, that you will..." "uh... right. That I'll get my ears pierced." "Excellent," Kathryn purred. "And now, what else?" I thought back. "Um... I'll clean any used sex toys I find with my tongue." "And...?" "And I'll kiss your toilet seat each week, and say...uh..." " 'I worship the ass which touched this seat,' " Kathryn prompted. " 'I worship the ass which touched this seat,' " I said, now completely defeated. "Excellent! Oh, don't look so glum, Paul! I just know you're going to love your new duties as my maid." Kathryn got up to leave, taking the remainder of the bags with her. "And don't forget, tomorrow is Thursday!" * * * Nervous, I got up early the next morning to try on my new uniform. As I lay the uniform out on the bed, I fingered my new ear-rings. I had them pierced the day before, right after Kathryn had left. The pain had been bearable, but the thought of everyone staring at me - a man, with both ears pierced! - was almost unbearable. I had hurried home as quickly as I could. And now here I was, about to get dressed in Kathryn's required uniform. How had I got myself talked into this? Again! Now, I was her maid, as well as her laundress. "Hold on," I said to myself, "I'm not a laundress, I'm not a maid, I'm not a woman. I'm just doing this because..." I hesitated. Why, because? "Because I'm interested in my neighbor, that's all. Certainly *NOT* because I like dressing up in women's clothing, or being subservient, or being ordered around at the hands of a dominating woman... or anything like that." But as I pulled on the plain white cotton panties, already I could feel my courage slip away. They were just plain white cotton panties, nothing special at all! But still they caused my skin to tingle and my stomach to churn. Next, I tried on the nylons. Gathering them up as I had seen my ex-wife do, I slipped them up my legs. Ohhhhh, that felt nice. After they were on, I stroked my legs a bit and luxuriated in the feeling of nylon covered legs. I hadn't felt those in a very long time, and certainly not my own legs. Is there anything sexier? But, looking at my legs, things weren't right. My leg hairs were all matted down and disgusting looking. I hesitated, but there was really only one thing to do. I took everything off, went back to the bathroom, stepped into the tub and shaved my legs. Armpits? I hesitated again. But then, deciding quickly, I lathered up and shaved them as well. Shit, why was this turning me on? I stroked my penis a few times. My head was spinning. After rinsing and drying off, I went back to the main room and put on the panties and stockings again. This time, the stockings looked much better. Oh... the waist cincher was tight. It pulled my waist in by at least an inch, and this was the outermost of four rows of hooks! I resolved right then to loose enough weight to be able to cinch it as tight as possible, since that was clearly Kathryn's desire for me. Putting on the bra was a new experience. After fumbling for a few minutes behind my back, I finally located the hooks and got it properly fastened. And oh.... the feeling. Something about having this silky/nylon piece of lingerie hugging my chest felt so wonderful. I stopped for a second and felt my nipples through the fabric. Oh my god! I dropped to my knees. The pleasure was so intense that I closed my eyes and hugged myself for a second, enjoying the thrill which passed through my body. Before continuing, I opened the box of breast forms I had ordered (overnight rush delivery) from the internet. Carefully I lifted each one out and placed them into the cups of my bra. They were surprisingly heavy, and although cool to the touch, they quickly warmed to my body temperature. Reaching with an unsteady hand, I picked up the maid's uniform. Fumbling for a second, I pulled it over my head, threaded my arms through the sleeves, and let it settle down over my body. Next, I buttoned up the bodice, and then carefully tied a bow behind my back using the cloth ribbons attached at the waist. Looking in the mirror I was amazed! The dress with the wide skirt and narrow waist actually gave me a rather trim, although plain, figure. And the breast forms gave me clearly formed bosoms that were hard to miss - definitely a woman's figure. A well-endowed woman's figure. Such a figure that I certainly would have ogled had I seen it in public. The thought made me blush. I stood there for a few moments, just staring at myself in the mirror, finding it hard to comprehend the image of the person looking back at me. I took a good look at my face in the mirror. After vacillating for a while, I went to the closet and pulled down a box of my wife's old things. Rummaging around, I pulled out some of her old makeup, and took it into the bathroom. First, I applied some foundation to hide the beard stubble and blemishes. Second, tweezers helped to thin out my eyebrows into something more arched and feminine. I tried to make them something that wouldn't look weird when I was in public as a man, but in the end they were pretty thin. Then some eyeliner, eye shadow, and finally a little lipstick. It was the lipstick which pushed me over the edge. Somehow, covering my lips with the deep red lipstick completed the picture. No longer did I look like the nerdy programmer next door, but now I felt that I really did look like a maid. Not very pretty, certainly, and with a mannish haircut, but definitely a maid in a maid's uniform. I went back into the living room and tied the apron around my waist. The apron now felt entirely appropriate. I was a maid now: a simple serving girl. My job was to make Kathryn's apartment as comfortable and as clean and neat as possible. I was her servant, and for the first time I fully felt the difference in station between us. Not only was it my job to serve her, but suddenly - enforced by the uniform - it had become my place in life. So there I sat, occasionally looking at myself in the mirror, running my hands over my new clothes, waiting for 10 O?clock. * * * CONTRACTUAL AGREEMENT FOR PAUL BENSON I, Paul Benson, agree to provide weekly housekeeping service to Kathryn McDonough. I further agree to the following terms and conditions: 1. I will vacuum all floors, clean all surfaces in the bathroom and kitchen, dust all shelves and baseboards, do all dishes, and pick up and return any item which is not in it's proper location. 2. Kathryn's home will be cleaned every Thursday between 10am and 5pm. No Thursday may be skipped for any reason. 3. Her home will be cleaned personally by me. 4. At all times, I will wear the proper uniform when I am in Kathryn's home FOR ANY REASON. (NOTE: This includes Mondays as well as Thursdays). This uniform shall contain the following as an absolute minimum: . Plain white cotton panties . A lady's bra . A figure controlling waist cinch, girdle, or similar . White stockings . A grey maid's uniform with white trim . Matching shoes with heels . A tea apron . Gold earrings 5. I understand that this uniform represents the minimum that I must wear. I understand that I am encouraged to augment the uniform in any way which will make me look more feminine. 6. In addition, each week, I will kiss Kathryn's toilet seat while saying: "I worship the ass which sat here." 7. Finally, any and all used sex toys that I may find in Kathryn's home must be cleaned personally by me, using my tongue and mouth. 8. I agree to forfeit any right of termination. I understand that only Kathryn may terminate this agreement, and that I must perform these services, at her pleasure, for as long as she may desire. Signed, your humble servant: _________________________