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Jennifer's Maid By Susan Day This is a story of a fireside chat between Penelope Primrose, usually known as 'Auntie', and her old schoolfriend, Jennifer. Jennifer asks her husband for domestic help. When she finds how expensive it is, her friend introduces her to a special agency where a special kind of maid can be found. After employing a maid from the agency, her husband takes a greater interest. (number one in a series of chats) -oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo- Violet knocks on the Drawing Room door as I finish my knitting for the evening. I call her in and put my knitting back in my bag. She stands just inside the door and bobs gracefully. This is not easy in her hobble skirt and heels. She has practised well and looks just perfect. She remembers to keep her long frilly pinny straight. "Your visitor has arrived, Ma'am," she says, bowing her head and crossing her hands in front. My good friend Jennifer Hunter comes in behind her. I rise to greet her, kiss her on the cheek and ask her to sit. "Bring another glass, Violet," I dismiss her, "My good friend and I have lots to discuss." She bobs again and leaves, closing the door quietly. "It has been so long since you have been here, dear. You look so well. Do tell me what you have been doing and tell me everything. You know I must know all of the gossip. I've been so busy, as usual. All these girls who need so much attention. All this work. I don't know how I find the time. Still, you're here now. I do love our chats." Violet knocks and enters with a short bob by the door. She comes over to where Jennifer is sitting, bobs again and places the glass on the table by her chair. "Shall I pour, Ma'am?" she asks, turning to me. I nod and she pours from the bottle on my table. Then she tops up my glass, bobs again and asks if there is anything else. "That will be all for now, Violet. Finish scrubbing the kitchen floor, change into your pink silk uniform with the frills and wait for me to summon you," I wait for her to bob again then mince gently to the door and leave as quietly as a mouse. Jennifer settles into the chair by the fire and tells me her latest news. "You're such a good listener," she said. For many years now, Jennifer, like several of my old school friends, has visited me once in a while for a chit chat. She always seemed a bit more innocent than my other friends so our chats tended to revolve around the mundane. Once or twice she had asked me for advice regarding her husband but never straying too deeply into the private or personal. I liked to listen to her refreshingly straightforward view of life. When we all went for our little holidays a few times a year, Jennifer always seemed a little embarrassed by the antics of our friends. She enjoyed their company but, shyly, kept away from some of their more extreme antics. It had been several months since her last visit and, on the phone, she had seemed keen to get something off her chest. Our chat eventually came around to the subject of this earth-shattering news. I let her tell her tale. Almost immediately, she raised a subject we had rarely discussed before. -oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo- When I asked my Husband if I could have a maid, he was a bit taken aback. "You must be joking!" he said. "You must have plenty of time for all the little bits of housework you do. You already have a brand new house and all the dishwashers and stuff so it practically looks after itself. All you have to do is swan around all day and polish your nails." He's a typical male chauvinist. You know what he's like. I've told you about him before. As long as I'm not actually working when he comes home, he thinks I've done nothing all day. Just because he's the breadwinner, he thinks he's done it all by himself. Who was it who scrimped and saved for him at university? Who was it who looked after him, ironed his endless stream of shirts, kept his suits pressed and neat, kept him fed and kept his home while he was on his way up the ladder? Who was it who held tedious dinner parties with boring bosses, ensuring his rapid climb? Who is the woman behind the man? And the moment I want a little luxury and an easier time ... ? "I think you forget," I said, "just how much I do for you. Just think what you'd do without me." "Don't go on about sex again, Jen," he said. "There's surely no reason to complain about that". "No," I laughed. "You know too well that's just great". And I wasn't kidding. "I'm not talking about sex. It's just that after all the hard work of the past few years, I thought I deserved a little rest." "Look," he said, rather condescendingly, "I'll be back in a couple of days. Phone a few agencies and see how much a bit of part time help will cost. I'm sure you could do with a little help for the barbecue next week." And that was it. Off he went to Madrid, or wherever he was flitting off to this week. Leaving me to "swan about," as he saw it. I was determined to have my way so I started straight away. I phoned a few agencies from the book and eventually found one which provided "domestic help to lords and ladies". A bit pompous, I thought but I made the appointment and, after arranging to meet a friend of mine for lunch, trotted off to the agency. The services seemed ok. The agency was quite impressive. The woman who explained it all to me was very professional and I was convinced my husband would be just as impressed. But then came the crunch. The fees were astronomical! I knew my husband would never agree. I told her I though full-time help was a bit expensive. "Couldn't you ask your husband what he could do for you?" she offered helpfully. "It's not a matter of sex," I said, forgetting myself. "No, I mean a bit of housework, then you could hire a maid part-time to help with those special occasions"... Then she hastily added "er ... Dinner parties, I mean." I left rather disheartened and went to lunch with my friend, Davina. You remember Davina - she came with us all to Greece last year. I told her about the agency and she said there were always cheaper ways. She had a gleam in her eye and I knew she had another of her little schemes up her sleeve. "What on earth do you mean, Vinny?" I asked. "You always seem to know some way of getting me into trouble. I've never forgiven you for all the trouble you dropped me in at school so don't start anything now." She reached into her handbag and drew out a little business card. "I don't know if they're still there any more," she said. "But I looked this lot up a couple of years ago. They're very cheap and very very special," she giggled. "What are you up to?" I asked. "I'm not doing anything until I know what this is about?" "Well," she said, leaning over the table to whisper, "you remember that boyfriend I had a few years ago? The one who ... you know" "The one you caught wearing you knickers one day?" I said rather too loudly. The waiter looked around, surprised. "That's it," Davina said quietly. "Well he went to work for this lot and I happen to know you'll find just what you need." "Well I don't know," I said, "I don't want to get into anything weird. I just want a bit of help so I can relax and pamper myself a bit." "Well that's exactly what you'll get," she said. "And a sight more. There's only one thing you have to promise me," she added. "What's that?" I asked, suspicious. "After you've had your ... um ... maid for a few weeks ..." "Yes," I added, waiting for the punch line (I fully expected her to make a complete idiot of me as usual) ... "You MUST invite me round for ... well ... afternoon tea... When your husband's still at work." "What are you up to you scheming little madam?" I asked her. "You'll see," she said. "Just ring up and go along there. You'll be pleasantly surprised, I'm sure". "Have you ever used them then?" I asked in all innocence. "No," she said, a little mournfully. "I always wanted to when that boyfriend left but my next boyfriend wouldn't let me and, as I married him a while later, I've never had the chance. Go on, she said, you try it out for us both. But don't forget to invite me round. Anyway," she said, "your husband's so tight he'll never pay for another maid." "Stop going on about sex," I scolded her. "Why is everyone talking about sex today?" "I meant 'tight' as in 'not prepared to pay money'," she laughed. "I know what you mean about the other 'tight' though," she grinned. She never lets me forget my husband is an ex boyfriend of hers. She knows how well-endowed he is and how much stamina he's got. And the years never seem to wear him out. To be quite honest, I've always thought he still fancies her a bit. In fact, I'm certain of it. Well anyway, I agreed to phone them and try the idea out. The moment I said yes, she had us up from the table, paid our bill and off to a phone box to call. The agency was still there and Davina grinned when they answered. I was immediately connected by an efficient-sounding telephonist to a rather husky-voiced lady. "Hello," I said, meekly, "um ... a friend of mine has given me your number and I wanted to know if you could ... um well ..." "Madam," said the husky lady's voice, "do you have our address?" "Yes," I said, checking the card. "Then why not come around now and discuss your requirements?," she said. And that was it. Round we went. Davina had to go off to meet her husband but she waited to see me in through the door. I think she wanted to make sure I didn't chicken out. I was absolutely bowled over when I went in. What a place. You wouldn't tell it from the rather scruffy outside but the interior was immaculate. There was a large old outer office with three rather smart, prim- looking girls beavering away at their typing and filing. Then there was a large panelled door into what was obviously the boss's office. It was all tastefully furnished, but the whole thing seemed to be a quaint little reminder of the 1940s. No office automation here. Everything was just so. And kept that way by hand. One of the girls looked up from her work, stood up, straightened her hair and gave what was something between a bob and a curtsey and said, "Good afternoon, Madam. Would you mind taking a seat while I see if Mrs Manley is free?" She swept around her desk and led me gently by the arm to a rather comfortable settee at the other side of the office. She swept my coat off and hung it up before I'd really noticed. I sat down, still a little bemused. This place was straight out of an old film. It was as if I was caught in a time warp. The girl introduced herself as Alison, and leaned over to plump up the cushion behind me. Her perfume wafted into my face and she seemed to deliberately come just a little too close. I felt her warmth close to me and felt the slight wobble of her breast as her nipple brushed past my cheek. She had a slinky, silky blouse on with a smart little bow around the collar. She looked so sweet as she leaned past me. She looked at me with a rather tempting smile. I felt something stir inside me. Memories of the rather embarrassing time I was alone in the art room in school with a very young and very attractive art teacher. On that occasion, I thought the art teacher was so attractive and just kissed her on the cheek as she leaned over my painting. I could have died with embarrassment. And here I was with the same feelings about another woman. She seemed to realise. She seemed to hover for ages before standing up and moving to the other side of the room again. I felt myself blush. "This is Sandra," she said, introducing her colleague. "She'll take care of you while I'm gone. Oh, and don't worry about Carol," she added absentmindedly, "she'll be better soon." I looked over to the other desk and saw the third girl. She was really rather dowdy. She was sat in a corner desk and practically hidden behind a huge old manual typewriter. She sat sadly, hanging her head and snivelling a little, as if she'd been crying. Sandra gave Carol a look of contempt as she rose from her desk and made her way towards me. If Alison aroused anything in me, Sandra made it boil over. She slinked over to the sofa as if trying to seduce me. I was bowled over by the way she moved. She was wearing a tight black pencil skirt, black high-heeled patent shoes, a plain white blouse and a loose black cardigan, fastened around her neck so the folds of her cardigan fell from her rounded breasts, highlighting their beauty. The whole, rather severe, effect was set off perfectly with a string of pearls. She sat next to me. I realised as her leg brushed against me, that she had not been wearing black tights, as I had imagined. They were the sheerest stockings. I felt the little bubble of the suspender through the material of her skirt. My heart was racing a little and I felt myself flush as she asked if there was anything she could do for me. She leaned forward to the coffee table and picked up a magazine. "Would you like to read this while you wait?" she oozed sexiness with every word. "Or perhaps you'd like to browse through a catalogue?" She held the pages open for me. It was as if the girls wanted to do everything for me. And as I looked at the magazine, I realised this was not an ordinary office. The catalogue contained the kinds of things I'd only ever read about in one of my husband's girlie mags I'd found in the shed one day. There were all sorts of weird and wonderful things. As she turned each page, Sandra giggled, rather girlishly and pointed to various favourites of hers on each page. I had no idea what was going on. I felt those old feelings welling up inside me until they were almost unbearable. Another moment and I would probably have dragged Sandra to me (she was already very close) and forced my hot tongue inside her mouth. I wanted that woman like I'd never wanted another man or woman before. And she knew it! Just as I raised my hand to her shoulder, the door to the main office opened and Alison swept back in again. Sandra folded the magazine and leaning on my knee as she did so, stood up. She reached for my hand and drew me up as well. Carol slowly rose and stood, head bowed, with her hands held loosely together in front of her. Alison announced, "Mrs Manley will see you now, madam," and gave a polite curtsey. Through the door, came a stocky, rather matronly lady in her late forties I imagined. She looked like the kind of old battleaxe who kept the empire together. She, like the office and its staff, was from another era. As she entered, her staff all curtsied politely. She ignored them. "Good afternoon," she said in the husky voice I instantly recognised from the phone. "Are you the Mrs Hunter who telephoned earlier?" She offered her hand and I shook it. She was rather strong and didn't let go. I only had time to blurt out "y...y yes," as she whisked me into the office. "Sandra, bring coffee!," she bellowed. "Alison, bring the list of available girls. Carol, get on with that work and if it's not finished by 4 o'clock, there will be more of the same." She sat me down in a plush chair in and extremely well-furnished office. She went to the other side of a large desk, sat down and looked at me across the expanse of her desk. The office was full of plants and she noticed me looking. "The plants," she said, "are a little weakness of mine. I've hundreds of them at home and can't resist the opportunity for a little spray here, a prune there. I even talk to them a little. Get more sense out of them than these three sluts here." I was shocked. I caught Mrs Manley's gaze and looked back to the door where Alison was standing with a large book. She looked embarrassed. "Come in, come in, girl," shouted Mrs Manley, impatiently. "Don't hang about there all day. Put the book down here and stand in the corner. Come on, come on. Get on with it." Alison bustled over to the table. Left the book. Looked at me rather sadly and slinked over to the corner (rather sexily again, I thought) and waited, hands held loosely together and head bowed, waiting for her next command. "Can't resist a chance, can you?" laughed Mrs Manley. "Even walking across the room you try to seduce anything which moves." She looked at me and I looked away, waiting for the ground to swallow me up. But it didn't. Instead, Sandra came in with a silver tray with an ornate coffee pot and a tray of delicate cakes. She waited at the door until Mrs Manley called her in, then gently floated across the room to the desk. The delicate nature of her plants, the coffee tray and the way her girls appeared and acted seemed at odds with this bellowing dragon. I felt sorry for them and must have showed it. As Sandra put the tray down, Mrs Manley said, "You seem surprised at the way I treat these little tarts. I can see you've never been to this kind of agency before. You'll soon understand." She beckoned to Sandra to stand in the other corner by the desk. Mrs Manley asked how I had heard of the agency. When I told her, she smiled and said that I'd soon become used to the way things worked. She felt sure I'd get into the swing of things rather quickly. She bellowed for Carol to come in. Carol cluttered through the door, looking rather lost and forlorn. She tripped on the edge of the carpet and stumbled into the desk. As she stood up, she stumbled again as she had broken one of her rather high heels. She began to cry. "Stupid girl," scolded the dragon. "That's the second pair this week. Now get another pair from my bottom desk drawer and make sure you don't break those or you'll be out this time!" Turning to me, she changed her tone. "I don't know why they bother," she said. "I try my level best to train them to a decent standard and this is all I get. Ah well. I assure you we don't let girls like THIS little slut loose on our clients. Your girl will reach you at the very peak of servile perfection. If you could just wait a little moment, I've some work to attend to." As Carol reached down into the bottom drawer, Mrs Manley grabbed her sharply and pulled her across her knee. Whisking her skirt up and pulling her knickers down, the rather daunting Mrs Manley began to smack the poor girl's bottom with her rather large hand. As each stroke fell, she said, "NOW - TAKE - THAT - YOU - USELESS - LITTLE - SLUT - AND - MAKE - SURE - YOU - TRY - HARDER - OR - IT'S - THE - WHIP - NEXT - FOR - YOU." Carol stood up, crying again. "Thank you, mistress," she said in a pathetic whispery voice. "I'm sorry to cause you so much trouble. Thank you for taking the time to correct me." "Dismiss!," bellowed Mrs Manley. "And mind you answer the phones properly today. Now get out and shut the door." Mrs Manley looked rather flushed from dealing out the punishment. In fact, she looked rather excited. All this time, the two other girls had stood patiently in their corners. "Sandra, pour Mrs Hunter a cup of coffee. Alison, behind the desk if you please." While Sandra busied herself with whether I took milk or cream, I couldn't keep my eyes off Alison who knelt down next to Mrs Manley and disappeared below the desk. I couldn't see Alison behind the panel of the desk, but I saw her heels peeping out from underneath on my side. Mrs Manley seemed to hitch her skirt up a little and sink lower into her chair. "That's right, girl," she said softly, "that's good!" I was brought back to Sandra's attentions when she brought the coffee to me and, instead of handing it to me, sat on my lap and held it for me! I looked into her gorgeous brown eyes and felt my heart race. "If she fails to satisfy in any way, I have a selection of whips and canes for her correction," said Mrs Manley, noticeably more mellow now. I took a sip of coffee. Sandra took the napkin from her arm and dabbed the corner of my mouth. I felt I was about to explode with desire for this woman. "What you see here," said Mrs Manley, "is one of our more advanced girls. I was going to ask you to browse through our list of available girls to find one to suit you, but I can see you've just about made your decision. It's about time I took on a new girl anyway." I looked at Mrs Manley. "You mean she's a maid as well as a secretary?" I asked. "She's whatever I damn well tell her to be," said Mrs Manley, beginning to pant a little. "Secretary today, maid tomorrow, nurse the next, whipping boy the next. Just whatever takes my fancy." "Whipping boy?" I asked, puzzled. "Surely you mean 'whipping girl'?" "You really are slow aren't you?" said the now breathless Mrs Manley. "Sandra, tell Carol to bring a cane in will you?" Sandra put the coffee cup on the table and made to stand up. But I couldn't help myself. I pulled her back down. I held her neck and pulled her towards me. Giving in to desire at last, I plunged my tongue into her inviting mouth. She was really fantastic. I couldn't believe I was doing it but I just couldn't help myself. She gave in willingly and returned my passion. Her tongue fought with mine as we explored each other's mouths. In the background, Mrs Manley left me in no doubt as to what was going on. She moaned and writhed in ecstasy. "Make me come you bitch!" she grunted. Sandra had her hand inside my blouse and slid to the floor. Kissing my breast, she said softly, "Stay there, I have to do what the mistress says. I'll be back in a moment." She ran to the door, called Carol and rushed back again. "Miss me?," she smiled as she fell to her knees. I had already lifted my skirt. I pulled her head to my hot, wet knickers and stopped with horror as her wig came off in my hand. Mrs Manley screamed as her orgasm came. Carol tripped into the room again and I sat motionless with my mouth gaping as I looked at the figure of the man between my legs. A moment or two later, I regained my composure and dragged Sandra to the floor. Fumbling for her knickers, I pulled them down and found her throbbing manhood concealed under that beautiful femininity. I felt her perfectly-formed ample breasts. I looked at her beautiful face. "Well fuck me then, you bitch!" I yelled. And she did. Not as big as my husband, but certainly nothing to be ashamed of. Instead of the usual powerful thrusting I'm used to, this was a tender, loving union. Sandra did everything she could to please me and she was well rewarded. I reached my second orgasm in next to no time and lay panting on the floor. I couldn't let Sandra go. I just held her to me. She kissed my neck and breasts as if she really loved my body. Not surprising really, considering she almost had the body of a beautiful woman herself. I heard the gentle voice of Mrs Manley as she lifted Sandra from me, "I take it you realise our maids are all male?" She helped me back into the chair and I tried to rearrange my dishevelled clothing as well as I could. "I want one!" I whispered, out of breath. "I think Sandra's the one for you," she said, taking the cane from Carol. "Bend over the desk, girls," she ordered. Alison had appeared from under the desk. With Sandra and Carol, they formed a pretty picture, their little bottoms peering out from under their hitched-up skirts. Their pretty little knickers around their ankles. I knew Carol had already been spanked quite hard and felt a little sorry for her as six strokes of the cane fell on her reddened behind. I felt that stirring again as Mrs Manley's strong arm brought the cane down on Alison's beautiful cheeks. Then Mrs Manley handed the cane to me. "Come on," she said, "If you want a maid, you'll have to learn how to be a mistress. If you love and care for her, you'll have to discipline her and teach her to service you." I stood up and without another thought, beat twelve hard strokes into Sandra's pink cheeks. And I loved every little squeal she gave. Mrs Manley drew a contract from her desk drawer as the girls recomposed themselves. I had no idea how I was going to explain this to my husband, but I was in a mood to sign anything. "As you can see," said Mrs Manley, "our charges are payable each month to the agency. If you give a cheque to Sandra each month, she'll pop it over and we'll review her progress. Any problems and you just ring that number day or night and we'll have a replacement on your doorstep the following day." I signed. "This says how much I pay the agency," I stuttered, "but how much do I pay Sandra? I'm worried my husband might consider it too expensive for a maid." "Once again, you don't seem to understand," said Mrs Manley. "You pay me for the effort and skill I have put into her training. The worthless little tart deserves no reward other than the knowledge that she is serving you, her mistress. Now she'll be delivered to you a week Monday and, if you don't mind, I've rather a lot of work to do to arrange her replacement." I stood up. Sandra had already fetched my coat. She held it out for me and, as I put it on, she allowed her hand to fall across my breasts. I smiled. This was going to make Davina green with envy. "One final word," said Mrs Manley. "Don't treat your maid too softly. She, like all male maids, is an idle tart who will lapse back into her unfeminine ways in next to no time, given half a chance. Keep her well disciplined and remember that sexual pleasures are for your benefit, not hers. I suggest that, unless you have some strict leather or rubber sex-wear and a good whip, you go and get some before a week Monday." "Yes, mistress," I said. She laughed. "Spare the whip, spoil the maid, I always say!" -oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo- I had been more and more surprised as Jennifer told her tale. She paused for a while, probably checking I was still listening. I topped up her glass and asked her to carry on. She gave me a sweet little smile and carried on, becoming more animated as she drew me in to the tale. -oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo- I took a taxi home and, almost as soon as I got through the door, the phone rang. It was Davina wanting to know how it went. I told her I couldn't say across the phone. She said she'd tell her husband I was feeling miserable on my own again and that she'd come to spend the night here. A chinwag with her old chum. Not more than an hour later, she was at the door. She flew in, demanding to know every detail. And I told her. "You really thought she was a woman?" she asked. "You old lesbian!" "I couldn't help it," I said, meekly. But before I could say anything else, Davina's lips were one mine. "I knew you were always a bit of a dyke on the side," she said. "Ever since that time with the art teacher in school I've wondered. Yes, I knew. I also suspected you married the bloke with the biggest manhood just to cover it up. Well he's not the man he pretends to be, either." She stayed the night. We talked about old times and held each other all night. It seemed so strange to have known someone for so many years without knowing how close we really were. Now I had two things to explain to my husband: the 'maid' I'd hired without his permission and his old girlfriend, now mine. For now though, I was really happy. The following day, Davina and I did just as Mrs Manley had said. We shopped for a black leather basque, stockings, thigh boots, leather gloves, a whip, some handcuffs and, at Davina's suggestion, a strap on dildo for those times when I wanted to give my maid a good stiff talking to. I knew my maid would arrive with her uniform, but there were some particularly feminine things I wanted her to wear just for me. So I said goodbye to Davina at the bus stop and went back on my own for those personal things. When my husband came back, I decided to break the news to him all at once. His car drew up the drive and I dashed upstairs to get ready for his 'usual'. In through the door he came. Running up the stairs and stripping off on the way, he leaped into the bedroom to find me, his wife, waiting for him, stretched out on the bed. It was always like this on his return. He'd screw me like there was no tomorrow. But this time, I tensed up just before his orgasm. I withdrew his throbbing member and held it in my hand for a while. "What's up?" he said. Those were his first words since 'Geronimo!'. "Nothing," I replied. Then I blurted out "But you know that maid I wanted, well she's only ?200 a month and she's a bit special, but I'm sure you'll understand and I've already signed a contract..." "Slow down," he said. "That's ok. No problem. I've already thought about it and I agree." Then he moved to carry on his 'usual'. "But darling," I continued, holding his throbbing member, "Davina gave me this number of an agency and she came and stopped here the other night and well the agency's, well ..." I faded. "Why don't you just tell me?" he said impatiently. "Tell me everything, I won't be annoyed. Then get your hand off my cock and spread." So I let him have it. "Firstly, I slept with Davina the other night and secondly, the maid is a man - not just a man but a man dressed as a woman and I have to cane him and everything and he's our sort of slave, really." I gritted my teeth and waited for the onslaught. He took my hand off his penis, thrust it inside me again and started pounding away. As he pounded, he said, "I've always thought she fancied you. Just do me a favour. Next time you sleep with her, make sure I'm there too. I'm sure you know I'm still fond of her. In fact, I'd like to fuck you both." And with that, he came in a great hot rushing torrent. I was just too surprised to do anything. "As for a male maid," he added, rolling onto his back, "there's to be no sex, do you understand. I don't mind you sleeping with Davina when I'm away, or even better when I'm not. But there's to be no other man inside you. Is that clear?" "Yes, darling," I sighed, relieved (and very surprised). "And while he, or she, is here, she wears a proper maid's uniform and acts like a proper woman, is that ok?" "Yes, darling," I repeated. By this time, I noticed his erection had returned. This, even by his standards was fast. I had a little suspicion. "You rather like the idea of a male maid, don't you?" I said, slipping on top of him and sliding down onto his stiff penis. "Well," he said, "do you remember when we started experimenting with all sorts of sex and you wanted me to spank you?" "Yes," I answered, "and you couldn't because you didn't want to hurt me." "That's it," he said. "Well I've always wondered what it would be like and this seems like an ideal chance. If I pay the bills, I think you could let me beat the little pansy once in a while. But don't forget," he added, "she must act like a woman at all times and always wear her uniform." I couldn't believe my luck. He'd given in so easily and was prepared to join in too. Wait until I tell Davina, I thought, coming at just the promise of what was to happen. When the time came, Sandra was delivered to my door by two rather burly delivery men. They bundled her out of the back of their van and carried her in like a sack of potatoes. She was dumped on the floor, wearing a black jumper, black ski pants and little black ankle boots. While one went back for her case, the other untied her. Then I signed the delivery note, gave them the cheque and off they went. Sandra was mine. I had been waiting for this! She staggered to her feet, said "Hello, mistress," and went to put her arms around me. "Down, bitch!," I said and kicked her to the floor. I jumped on her back and told her to crawl upstairs and I would ride her like a horse. This she did, a little wobbly at first. I assumed this was because she had been tied so tightly. She reached the top of the stairs and I directed her to the bedroom. "Meet your master," I told her. My husband helped me off our new maid and I told her to stand up. "Hello, master," she said. "Good girl, Sandra," he said. He then pulled her across his knee and gave her those hard slaps I knew he'd wanted to give me. By the time he'd finished spanking the new maid, he was ready for another of his 'usuals'. "Get your things and move them into the bedroom at the end of the hall," said the Master. "I've redecorated it for you in a nice flowery pink. And I have built new wardrobes and a nice harness for you to be strapped into for a good whipping, which your Mistress can administer. Change into your maid's uniform and find your way to the kitchen. Make us a pot of tea and find some custard creams. They're my favourites. You'll have to start remembering things like that." My husband bonked me like he'd never done before. He was wild with desire. Was it the power over this new maid or was it the thought of sleeping with Davina? When he went to work the next day, I called Sandra into my bedroom and showed her the nice feminine things I'd bought. I explained that while my husband was in, she was to wear her uniform. But while we were alone, she was to change into this. I stood there in my leather gear and watched her change into her new white basque with pink and blue flowers, white sheer stockings, white lacy knickers, white high-heeled shoes, white evening gloves a pink and white lacy bow in her hair, which she'd made sure was well fixed, a short necklace of pretty pearls and, for that extra feminine effect, a short-sleeved pink fluffy cardigan, which again emphasised her breasts so well. She was so warm and cuddly while her bottom was still easily available for a good spanking. I taught her to trot around the house so her breasts bounced and her hair flounced. She curtsied when I walked into the room and she carried out her maidly chores looking so pretty it seemed a shame to spank her. But spank her I did. Regularly. And I loved it. After a few days, my husband had to leave again. Off to Paris this time. Only for one night. "I'll bring back something sexy for you both," he laughed as he left. He was only just down the drive when Sandra came downstairs in her pretty white and pink. "I've laid out your basque and boots, mistress," she said. "Please whip me if you like". "There will be plenty of time for that tomorrow," I said. "In the meantime, I want the house spic and span for the master's return. I'm trusting you on your own now, so don't let me down." I hopped into the car and shot straight around Davina's place. She was disappointed I hadn't brought Sandra. I fact, she wanted to send me back to get her. I told her I was planning a get together next week. Something special. She would meet our new maid then. I hadn't told her it would involve my husband but she'd find that out soon enough! Davina's husband had gone to see a new factory absolutely miles away and would be away all night. We'd decided to grab this opportunity and spend a night together. I still hadn't told her my husband knew. That surprise was to come the next week. For some mad reason, early in the morning, Davina decided we should take some champagne and set off for the hills to see the sun rise. So there we were, freezing cold in the pitch dark, trundling off on one of her damn fool crusades. What happened on those hills was between myself and Davina. Suffice to say we kept the cold off until the sun rose. Then the trouble started. Her car wouldn't start and we had to walk miles to find a phone. We then waited hours to be towed home and by that time, I'd missed my husband's return. I knew he'd be very annoyed as he always flew through the door for one of his 'usuals'. So I hopped straight in my car and drove home at a rate of knots. His car was in the drive - oh dear. I thought I'd better creep in quietly and try to calm him down. I crept upstairs, past the pile of discarded clothes into the bedroom. He wasn't there. I looked around upstairs then heard a strange noise coming from downstairs. Still expecting to incur the wrath of my randy husband, I crept downstairs, following the noise to the kitchen. And, as I opened the door, I realised what the noise had been. There, spread face down across my new oak kitchen table, was my pretty little maid, crying and wriggling with pain as she was being screwed up her pert little slavish bum by the biggest cock I've ever seen. And I knew that hard ramrod. I knew the person standing there holding my maid pinned to the table, squirming for all she was worth. I knew the voice saying "Shut up, pansy, and enjoy it. This is the best screw you'll ever have." I knew the figure standing there in my new leather basque, stockings, thigh boots and leather gauntlets. I knew my husband anywhere. And here he was. Screwing MY maid. And enjoying it too, by the look of it. I had to join in. I slipped upstairs for the whip. -oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo- The grandmother clock in the hall strikes ten and the firelight flickers a little as the coals settle. I feel perfectly relaxed during the remains of the day. Jennifer finishes the last of her wine and stares into the fire, listening to the echo of the chimes. "I do like this wine. It makes me feel so much more like telling you everything. Thank you so much for listening." We sat in silence for a little while. "I can't wait to get home. I am sure you understand. Davina said you would. She said you might like to come round some time and show me the ropes. I presume she's talking about all those maids you have been training over the years." "Of course I will," I said. "Anything to help a friend." She smiled and we sat in silence a little longer. "Well dear," I settle forward in my chair. "Thank you for popping round. It has been nice to catch up with your news. I do enjoy our chats. I will ring for the maid." I ring the bell on the table next to my armchair. Presently, Violet appears at the door. She is in her pink silk dress with multi-layered petticoats, white stockings, pink shoes and a lovely short frilled pinny. The effect is completed with a white mob cap and white lace gloves. She is carrying Jennifer's coat. She curtseys and waits in silence, holding the coat, almost hugging it. I can see by the rather guilty look on her face as she looks longingly at the long fur, that she has been trying it on and flaunting herself in front of the hall mirror as I have caught her doing with guests' coats before. I make a mental note that she has earned herself another bad mark. Jennifer puts down her empty glass and rises. Violet helps her on with her coat. I walk Jennifer to the door of my Drawing Room, kiss her on the cheek and tell her how much I am looking forward to our next chat, perhaps at her house next time. Violet shows her across the hall to the door and curtseys as she leaves. I wait at the Drawing Room door until I hear the car engine, the sound of the tyres on the gravel of the drive and watch the lights pass through the stained glass of the hall windows. Then I call Violet into the drawing room to discuss her indiscretions while she rakes the embers of the fire. Then I administer her punishment over my knee and ensure she understands her shortcomings. She promises she will be a better maid in future. I do love the look on a maid's face as she stands, head bowed, hands folded in front of her, frilly panties around her ankles and a freshly spanked bottom. The sweet little "Thank you" from her rosy red lips is worth the effort I put into her training and education. By half past ten, Violet has tucked me into bed and I dismiss her to her scullery. She will sleep on the floor by the fire. I will dismiss her in the morning as another maid is coming to stay for a few days. She improved greatly during this visit. I am sure next time she comes, she will be even better. It has been another perfect day. -oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-oOo-