Maid For The Job - Chapter Two free porn video

Maid for the Job Chapter Two As the alarm goes off, I reach sleepily over to turn it off, bemoaning the fact that I have to get up so early. As I reach over I realise something feels different, I feel different. As I turn off the alarm I slowly open my eyes and the sight of the pastel coloured room brings all the memories of yesterday flooding back. I sit up in the bed, my satin covered body sliding smoothly over the satin sheets, and prop myself up with a pillow. In the large, floor-to- ceiling mirrors covering the wardrobe at the foot of the bed I can see the reflection of a young woman who has perhaps had too many parties. When I look closer I realise it is me, dressed up to look like a woman, but with weary eyes and stubble. Not a good look! Dragging myself out of bed, I stand in front of the mirror to get a full frontal look at myself in the cold light of day. From the neck down I look very obviously female, but the confusion starts from my chin up. While I have a very definitely feminine haircut, I also have morning stubble that would be shocking even on my grandmother. I slide the nightdress straps from my shoulders and let the garment fall softly to the floor. Remembering the way my penis reacted last night, I remove the white cotton briefs. It's still there, slightly turgid with 'morning glory', and when I remove the bra and place it on the bed, I'm standing there completely naked looking like something out of a freak show, a man- woman. In the reflection of the mirror I notice that the time is now 7.15am. This shocks me into action. In forty five minutes I have to be ready and in the kitchen waiting for my boss, and there is no way I can meet her looking like this. The first step is to have a shower. Putting a cap over my hair I step into the shower cubicle, and closing my eyes I let the hot stream of water wash over me. As I do so I almost forget where I am. It is only when I reach out for the perfumed shower gel and start washing my hairless body that I am brought back to the present as the gel forms a lather which causes my skin to tingle. After the shower I wrap myself in a large towel, have a close shave and brush my teeth. Now to get dressed, the first time I have voluntarily put on girls clothes, or is it voluntary? Opening the top drawer of the chest of drawers I pick out a pair of black cotton briefs and put them on. Then I put on the black bra I was wearing the day before, struggling again to get the straps joined behind my back. 'There must be an easy way of doing this', I think to myself. At this point I realise some deodorant would be good and I return to the bathroom. I apply the roll-on that I find to my hairless armpits. Returning to the bedroom I dig a pair of black tights out of the bottom drawer, sit down on the edge of the bed and start putting them on. I am so clumsy and unused to doing this that I accidentally put one of my long finger nails through the light material and cause a ladder. Not wishing to displease my new boss I get a new pair out and try it again. This time I fair slightly better, and although I make a small tear it doesn't spread. Standing up I smooth the soft material up my hairless legs, and as I stand there in front of the mirrors, I find the sight of my long legs encased in the black tights quite sexy, and before I realise it my member unexpectedly begins to stir. Shaking my head I open the closet and pull out one of my uniform dresses. Just as I am about to put it on, I remember that the previous day I had to wear a body shaper to give me a slightly more feminine shape. I find the garment in the third drawer of the chest of drawers and step into it, pulling it up my body and slipping my arms through the shoulder straps. After some readjustment I am standing there encased in the strong elastic material feeling almost trapped. Reaching for the dress I step into it and pull it up my body. Once my arms are in the holes I start doing the buttons up. The dress fits almost perfectly, showing off my falsified figure as if it had been made for me, or should I say 'maid' for me. As I am about to step out of the door, I realise I should put some make up on. In some ways this is the part of the process that I am most worried about because if I do it poorly it will look tragic. I sit down at the chest of drawers and start by brushing my hair. I then attempt to put on some lipstick, mascara and eye shadow. I don't think it looks particularly good, but glancing aside at the clock I see it is already 7.55am so I quickly step into my workday shoes, tie the apron around my waist and make my way down the kitchen, barely taking the time to glance at the 'finished article' in the mirror before I go. I arrive in the kitchen just before eight to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and toast. My new boss is, as promised already there, standing by the counter wearing a stunning deep red satin negligee over a matching nightdress. The ribbon belt of the negligee is tied around her narrow waist and the plunging neckline of the nightdress and negligee reveal a stunning cleavage. If I wasn't wearing a dress I might think myself lucky for being greeted by such a sight. As it is I cannot prevent my basic instincts kicking in, and I am thankful that the apron I am wearing conceals the growing bulge below my waist. I cannot, however, disguise the blushing of my cheeks. "Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?" "I suppose so," I reply sullenly. "Oh dear. I hope you didn't get out of the wrong side of your bed. Let me look at you," she says as she walks around the counter towards me. "Not bad," she continues as she starts to 'inspect' me. "I hope you didn't have trouble with the bra, and I see you've remembered to put the body shaper on. Very important that, until you've developed a more feminine figure of your own," she says, following the falsified 'hour-glass' contours of feminised body with her hands. This physical contact is instantly arousing, especially when she cups my breasts appreciatively, 'to check they have set properly'. With a panic I am aware of my bulging manhood, although she doesn't seem to notice it, or at least she doesn't say anything about it. "Your make up could do with some work, but for a first timer it is not a bad effort. Perhaps we could give you some training. You stay here and have some breakfast, I'll go and get dressed, and then we'll be ready to have a look around the house." As she leaves the room I am reeling. The whole encounter has been unexpectedly arousing; her appearance, they way she touched me and looked at me. Nothing particularly sexual happened but I could not disguise the reaction my body had to the situation, surely it was wrong. Obviously if I was dressed normally I would be perfectly happy with what had just happened, but there was something not quite right about reacting the way I did, while dressed the way I was. As I mull this over, a more disturbing thought crosses my mind, what does she mean about 'developing a more feminine figure of my own'? Thinking about this I pour myself a cup of coffee and sit down for some breakfast. A few minutes later my boss returns looking no less glamorous, but wearing something far more appropriate for a tour of the house, which starts in the kitchen. I will not bore you with details of the tour, but the house comprises a dining room, sitting room, kitchen, study, conservatory and family room on the ground floor, a laundry room and games room in the basement, and six bedrooms and three bathrooms on the first floor and in the attic. By half ten we've covered a lot of ground, and despite the fact that the uniform I am wearing is the least constrictive of those chosen for me, I am feeling quite uncomfortable and appreciate the rest. My boss makes a cup of tea then leaves me to make a phone call. After the break we turn our attention outside where there is an indoor heated swimming pool with Jacuzzi, sauna and small fitness suite with running, cycling and rowing machines. My boss invites me to use these facilities, 'to help tone me up'. With a tour of the garden and other outhouses, by lunchtime I am sure we have exhausted all possible areas of the property and we return to the kitchen for some lunch. Over lunch my boss outlines what she expects of me during a normal week. "During the day I expect you to wear the uniform you are wearing now. Even though it is a day uniform and you are likely to get messy, I still expect you to make an effort to be feminine, particularly with your hair and make up. I will usually take breakfast in here with you, but all other meals will be in the dining room unless I tell you otherwise. For dinner I expect you to be wearing your evening uniform of skirt and white blouse. Unless I tell you otherwise, breakfast should be ready at 8.00am, lunch at 1.00pm, afternoon tea at 4.00pm and dinner at 7.00pm." "I expect the bathrooms to be cleaned on a daily basis. That way they shouldn't get too messy and shouldn't take too long. On Monday mornings I expect you to clean any bedrooms that have been used over the weekend, including changing the bed linen. Obviously this will take longer some weeks if we've had a house full of guests for the weekend. As we've been walking around I've noticed that you seem to feel uncomfortable in your clothes, and you could obviously do with some coaching in feminine things such as make up, so I've arranged that after lunch on Mondays you will go to 'school' at Aunt Mary's. As well as being a superb dressmaker, she also offers 'finishing' classes for a range of young ladies and I'm sure you'll find it helpful." This is news to me, but explains the phone call earlier. I'm not sure quite how to react. Obviously if I have to be dressed as a woman I would prefer to be convincing so people don't see through the disguise, however, going to school with 'other' young ladies, I'm not sure I feel comfortable with that. Mind you, do I feel comfortable with anything that's happening and do I have any choice. "On Tuesdays," she continues, "the kitchen will need cleaning and the groceries ordering, we use an on-line ordering service. You can use the computer in the study to place the orders and the account will automatically be deducted. I will place an order today, you can do next week's. On Wednesdays the laundry will need doing and the groceries will be delivered. That leaves Thursdays to clean the remaining rooms. There are also less frequent jobs such as cleaning the pool block, but that depends on how much use it has had. Here is a list of chores that you can use as a daily tick list," she says as she hands me a laminated piece of card with the information on. "Any questions?" "Lots, but I am sure most of the answers will make themselves apparent," I reply. "However, you haven't said anything about Fridays and the weekend." "Friday will be your day off," she states. "What I propose is that you have Thursday night off after dinner, if I have no other plans we can spend some girly time together, then on Fridays you will be free to do what you want, go shopping, get your hair done, whatever. Again, if I'm free I could come with you. Friday evenings I will expect my husband home. We usually have a take away when he gets back from work so you will not be expected to cook then. We also do not usually like to be disturbed, however, this Friday will be different as it will be the first time you meet him. Your work over weekends will be dependent on our plans. If we have a party or house guests, like this weekend, you will obviously be expected to work. If, however, we are away for the weekend, you are free to do as you will; stay here or go away yourself. On weekends when we do have guests, I expect you to wear the black French maid's outfit at all times, unless we are hosting a cocktail party in which case the lilac outfit is more appropriate. Is that all clear?" "Yes." "Right. In that case I shall leave you to familiarise yourself with the place. I have already got something out of the freezer for dinner. I will take it in here with you at seven. Oh, and don't bother getting changed into the normal dinner uniform, that's only for when I eat in the dining room. I think you've had enough excitement today already. Okay?" "Yes," I reply. "See you later," she says breezing out of the room. For a while I sit there doing nothing. I'm not overwhelmed by the work because that's what I applied for. I am, however, overwhelmed by the situation, and it's taking me a while to become accustomed to being dressed the way I am and being referred to as 'she', let alone 'Stephanie'. Despite the fact that my boss has said I can give a month's notice, I also have an unnerving feeling that given the chance she would like this situation to go on for much longer. Eventually I snap out of my stupor, and realising that as I'm getting paid quite well for this work I should, at least get on with it, and I start work by tidying up the lunch things. Remembering that Tuesday is kitchen day, I then spend the rest of the day familiarising myself with the kitchen and the contents of the cleaning cupboard, pausing at four to take my boss her tea in the conservatory where I find her reading. "How's your first day at work going then Stephanie?" "Fine," I reply monotonously. "Good, but we really need to work on your attitude," she replies firmly. "I am paying you good money to work here, not to mention providing you with board and lodging and all your uniforms. Perhaps you could try responding a bit more politely. Can you do that?" "Yes. I'm sorry," I respond feeling suitably chastised. "It's just that this is all such a shock for me and I'm finding it difficult to adjust." "Of course, dear. I do understand it must be hard for you, but I'm sure you will adjust given time. Oh, and by the way, if you should need to call me or refer to me at all I think it's best that you call me 'ma'am', or 'Mrs. Smith', is that okay?" "Yes, of course," I respond, before adding "Ma'am." "Excellent Stephanie. If we can cope with that, I'm sure we shall get on fine. I shall bring my cup and saucer back to the kitchen later. Will everything be alright for dinner at 7?" "Yes, ma'am, I am just about to start preparing it." "Excellent. I shall see you later then." My boss arrives for dinner on the dot of seven, and I serve her spaghetti bolognaise with a nice red wine. As we sit eating together she is again very chatty, asking if I have any problems during the day and wondering if there is anything I would like to talk about. I simply ask about her expectations on my time in the evenings. "When I'm not entertaining, you are free as soon as you've cleaned up after dinner. The rest of the day is then yours. Why? Do you have some plans?" "No, not at all," I respond. "I was just wondering what to do with myself." "Well you've got a tv in your room," she said. "If you need a book you can get one from the library. I'm happy for you to use the games room if you want, and you can always use the pool complex. In fact I'm planning on having a swim later. Do you want to join me?" "No thank you, not tonight. Anyway, I haven't got any swimming trunks with me," I say without thinking. "Well they wouldn't be much good if you did have them anyway. Perhaps when you go shopping on Friday you can get yourself a swimming costume." "Perhaps," I respond. "You could always come into the gym and do a bit of exercise. You've got some sport bras and t-shirts and shorts after all," she suggests. "Maybe," I respond. "I think I'll just watch tv, have a nice long bath and get an early night. It's been quite a hectic day." "Fair enough. Oh, incidentally, there's some lovely lavender bath foam in the bathroom. That'll help you relax if you're having a soak. It's a bit harsh on the hair though so I wouldn't wash your hair in it," she suggests kindly. "Thank you." "Right-oh then. Thanks for a lovely dinner. You're quite a good cook aren't you. I shall see you in the morning for breakfast then. I shall take it in here with you again. Goodnight, Stephanie, and have sweet dreams." "Good-night ma'am." When I have finished in the kitchen, I take the rest of the bottle of wine and a glass up to my room with me. I shut the door behind me, pour a glass of wine and then slump on the edge of the bed staring at myself in the mirrored wardrobe doors. After a few minutes I decide that I can't sit there all night. I get up and go into the bathroom to run myself a hot, bubbly bath, using the lavender bath foam Mrs. Smith suggested. While it's filling up I start to get undressed, kicking off my shoes as I walk back into the bedroom, unzipping the dress and hanging it up ready for tomorrow, peeling off the body shaper and finally sliding the tights down my hairless legs. Once again I find myself standing in front of the mirrors inspecting the overall look. Once again from the neck down it is quite convincing, but the neck up isn't right. I turn off the bath that is now nice and full before returning to the bedroom where I sit myself down at the dressing table to remove my poor attempt at make up. When I am finished I look at myself in the mirror, my sad, male features staring back at me, and I am struck by a thought; if I am going to be forced to do this, I may as well do it properly, so I decide to practice applying make up. Sitting there in my panties and bra I make the decision to practice one particular aspect of make up every night for fifteen minutes, and I start tonight with lipstick. As the lipstick is about to touch my lips I pause; this is my choice, why am I making it, no one is forcing me. The answer, of course, is embarrassment; I don't want Mr. Smith to know I'm a bloke, I don't want the grocery delivery man to know I'm a bloke and I certainly don't want the other girls at 'school' to know I'm a bloke. My decision made I apply, remove and reapply a range of different lipsticks a number of times until I'm sure of some signs of improvement. Then picking up my glass of wine I go into the bathroom, remove my bra and panties and sink into the hot, foamy water. The smell of lavender is intoxicating, the feeling on my skin is slightly tingly, and I find it strangely arousing seeing my painted toenails sticking out of the bubbles at the other end of the bath. Taking a large mouthful of wine, I close my eyes and relax. Sometime later, when I've drained the wine, I get out of the bath, wrap the bathrobe around me and pull the plug. Back in the bedroom I refill my glass and curl up on the bed to flick through the dross on the box. When the ten o'clock news starts I realise it is time to get into bed. Remembering my body's reaction when I put on the nightdress the previous night, I put on a clean pair of cotton panties. Having brushed my teeth and hair, I take off the bathrobe, put on the pale blue bra and nightdress and slip between the satin sheets. Setting the alarm, I turn off the light and within minutes I am asleep. No dreams tonight! =#= My first full day of work begins much as yesterday, although this time I manage not to ladder my tights, and I feel the practice putting on lipstick the previous night has paid off. When the clock in the kitchen reaches 8.00am precisely, my boss walks in to have her breakfast of coffee and toast. Today she is fully dressed (though no less stunning than she was the previous morning). I am thankful for this because it means no unsightly reaction from my groin. "Good morning, Stephanie," she greets me brightly. "Good morning, ma'am." "I hope you slept well. Did you have a nice lavender bath?" "Oh yes, to both questions. The fragrance of the foam bath was intoxicating and very relaxing," I reply. "Excellent. Well if you run out of it at any point let me know. I get it from a special supplier," she said, seemingly pleased that I had followed her suggestion. "Usually I would take my breakfast before getting ready for the day, but today is different. I have a meeting in London at 10.00am, followed by lunch so I shall be leaving in half an hour. I do expect to be back for dinner at seven, and I may have a friend with me so we shall eat in the dining room. Does that affect your menu plans?" I freeze for a moment realising I forgot to get anything out of the freezer the previous night. Then I'm hit by a worse thought, she might bring a friend back. "Are you okay, Stephanie," she asks as I stall. "Yes, I'm fine, I'm just not sure if I'm ready to meet someone else yet," I reply nervously. "Oh, don't worry about that. She's lovely. It'll be interesting to see if she guesses, although I expect she will, you do still need some practice in a few areas, voice and stance to mention two, but at least your lipstick looks better this morning." Strangely pleased that she has noticed my efforts, I tell her that dinner will be ready at seven for two people in the dining room, and yes I will remember to wear the evening uniform. I then bid her a safe journey and a good meeting as she picks up her bag, keys and coat. Just as she is about the close the door behind her, she leans back in and says. "Oh, and don't forget. The groceries will be delivered at about 10 o'clock. Bye." And with that the door is closed behind her. I stand rooted to the spot. I hadn't so much forgotten about the grocery delivery as expected that my boss would be here to deal with it. Now, when the delivery comes I will be the only person in the house. I will have to open the door. I will have to talk to them, and they will definitely see that I am not a girl. Just then the grandfather clock in the hall strikes 8.30am. I have one and a half hours to get myself in a position where I am not an embarrassment to myself. Do I make myself look ugly, or do I try to look more feminine. Forgetting my chores I run straight up to my room to practice. In a move that I know would disappoint my boss, I go for the ugly look. It's easier to accomplish in ninety minutes. With a hunched back, unkempt hair and poorly applied lipstick, no delivery boy is going to stay around for long. As I stand in front of the mirrors realising that this is going to take some effort to put right, the door bell rings at a surprisingly punctual 10 o'clock. I pull myself together, make my way to the front door and open it. "Delivery for Smith," says the young man who looks like he's only just left school and has graduated from working at a fast-food restaurant to driving for a super market giant. It's at this point that I realise I have forgotten to practice the most important thing, the voice. "Yes," I croak nervously. "Can you sign here please," replies the young man with a look that is half amusement half horror. "Where do you want it?" "Follow me," I say, and show him the way to the kitchen. After three trips he has brought it all in a piled it up on the work surface. He is just leaving with the empty crates when he turns round and looks at me quizzically. As I turn my head to avoid his gaze I see him shake his head then close the door behind him. I collapse onto a kitchen stool half out of shock and half out of relief. Thank God he wasn't a bigger, older bloke. Thank God it wasn't a woman. Thank God he didn't say anything. But then a horrible thought crosses my mind, may be he will say something. When he gets back to the depot, may be he will tell them about the freak at the Smith house, and maybe they'll take it in turns to deliver here so then can abuse me. 'Oh God, I'm going to have to do something,' I say to myself. But what? Not being able to come up with any immediate solutions, I get on with unpacking the groceries and getting on will my daily chores. Every bedroom has a laundry basket, but the only two with anything in them are mine and my boss'. I separate the coloureds from the whites so as not to cause any problems and check all the labels for specific instructions. As I do so it becomes clear that my boss is a very glamorous lady with a liking for expensive, sexy clothing. I am going to have to take care with the laundry. The rest of the day passes without any problems, and at 5 o'clock I put the casserole I have made for dinner in the oven and go up to my room to get changed into my evening uniform. I strip off my now dirty day dress and put it in the laundry basket along with the body shaper and tights. I then get out the blouse, skirt, shoes and apron that make up the outfit. After a quick shower to clean the dust off, I start to get dressed. I am about to put on the bra and panties I have just taken off when I have a change of heart. For the first time since I arrived in this situation I will be expected to be really feminine. I will have to wear the corset in order to fit into the skirt after all, so I decide to put the cotton undergarments in the laundry basket and get something else out. With penis and breasts dangling I bend over the chest of drawers to see what I can find. In the third drawer I get out the corset that I was forced into on the first day. I also pull out the deep, boned, black satin suspender belt that Mrs. Smith chose for me, and then get the matching bra and knickers from the top two drawers. Finally I reach into the bottom drawer for a new pack of sheer black stockings. I have a strange feeling of wanting to impress my boss and her friend. I put on the bra and knickers, and fix the suspender belt around my waist, then sit down at the chair in front of the dressing table and open the stockings. Slowly and carefully I roll the stockings up my smooth hairless legs, just like I've seen women do on films. Attaching the front suspender is easy, and after a bit of turning this way and that all six suspenders are attached. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and am astounded by how sexy I look. Unfortunately I'm also aroused, and my growing penis is starting to stretch the satin at the front of the knickers. Trying not to think about it, I sit down again and start slowly and carefully applying make up. The end result is not perfect, but it's just about the best I can do at the moment. As I sit there spraying myself with Eden I realise that I am voluntarily trying to make myself look like an alluring woman, something I would never have done before. If someone had suggested it last week I would have blanched at the idea, but here I am doing it of my own free will. What's happening to me? Looking at the clock, I realise I haven't got time for philosophical debate, and I stand up to try and get into the skirt. It's no good, I will need the corset. This black satin cage has clips at the front and laces at the rear. I breathe in and join the clips at the front, then holding my breath, I reach round the back and start pulling on the laces. The pain is not as bad as when Aunt Mary did it, but it is bad enough. After a while of breathing in even more, I feel I've done enough and tie off the ribbons behind me. Tentatively I reach for the skirt and step into it. It fits, just. As I pull the skirt up, the satin liner brushes my stocking clad legs to produce a wonderful, soft rasping sound, and when I do the zip and button at the back I relax a little and try to breathe freely. Reaching for the blouse, I struggle slightly, forgetting the buttons are back to front. Then I step into the black patent court shoes, tie the white apron round my much smaller waist and my gold watch to my wrist. Standing in front of the mirrors I am astounded by how good I look. Not perfect, but a lot better than I did earlier, and with that thought in my head, I turn to go downstairs, quickly remembering how difficult it is to walk in heels. Two flights of stairs later I reach the kitchen relieved to see that everything is going to plan. I go to the dining room to light the candles on the table, and just as I do I hear the door open. Not sure where I'm supposed to be when my mistress returns from work, I walk out into the hallway to greet her. "Good evening, ma'am." "Good evening, Stephanie. My oh my, you do look wonderful. That outfit really suits you," she gushes. Before I can stop myself I curtsey slightly and start to blush. "This, Stephanie, is Mrs. Stewart my good friend." "Good evening, Mrs. Stewart," I respond, and then, because it seems rude not to, I give her a small curtsey as well. "Oh, how wonderful," Mrs. Stewart chortles, clapping her hands together. "She is lovely. What a good choice you've made dear." "As well as dining with me, Mrs. Stewart will be staying the night, Stephanie. Could you take her bags to the room next door to mine and then serve us sherry in the conservatory." "Yes ma'am," I respond eagerly to my boss' request. Then, with my head held high I take Mrs. Smith's bags upstairs as instructed. As I do, I give myself a mental slap. I'm all made up because they like the way I look. I shouldn't be happy about this, I should be angry. But the feeling of the clothes against my body as I walk, the constriction of the corset and suspender belt is all so unusual that I can't help but feel some enjoyment. I take the sherries into the conservatory and a few minutes later I call the ladies into the dining room. While they are eating I pick at what's left, but I'm not really hungry, partly because I'm excited and partly because I don't think the corset would let me eat anything. After dinner the ladies retire to the sitting room for coffee. I bring the tray in, place it down on the table and pour the coffees. I am just about to leave when Mrs. Smith stops me. "Stephanie dear. Over dinner Mrs. Stewart and I have been discussing you and your situation. She is so very impressed with you that when I just told her that really you're a boy she didn't believe me." At this revelation I blush so much that I feel it must be showing through the blusher I applied earlier. "Oh there's no need to feel like that, my dear," says my boss. "She thinks it's a perfectly wonderful thing, but she doesn't quite believe it. Will you tell her yourself?" Shocked with the admission I am being forced to make, I stammer, "Yes it's true." "What's that," asks my boss. "We didn't quite hear you." "Yes I am a boy, ma'am," I respond wishing the earth would open up for me. "Oh, how marvellous," replies Mrs. Stewart. "What a fantastic idea Martha to take a beautiful young man and turn him into an even more beautiful young lady. If it's true!" "What do you mean, Betty?" my boss asks in a tone that suggests this has been rehearsed. "Well," replies Mrs. Stewart. "You both say she's a boy but seeing is believing and I see a girl." "Oh," says my boss, realising, as I now fear, where this is going. "I see what you mean. Well we could always ask Stephanie to show you proof couldn't we. Stephanie," she says turning to me. "Could you prove to Mrs. Stewart that you are, indeed, a boy?" "How," I stammer in reply. "I think there's a very easy way of doing it, Stephanie," my mistress responds. "I'd rather not," I reply, hoping that this is a dream I'm about to wake up from. "And I'd rather you did," my mistress says sternly. "Unless you'd like me to help." "No, ma'am, I'll do it," I say, mortally embarrassed about what I am going to do. As I move my hands around behind me to untie the apron strings, I realise that not only am I being forced to expose myself in front of someone to prove I am not what I appear, but my body is reacting in a way that will only enhance my embarrassment. I place the apron on the arm of the chair, then reach behind my waist again to undo the zip and button of the skirt. Letting it fall to the ground, I step out of it then bend over to pick it up. As I stand up I can see the two women staring eagerly at my groin, and I am sure that they can see the large erection that has formed there. "Go on, Stephanie, just a little peak," says Mrs. Stewart. Reaching up under the suspender belt, I hook my knickers with my thumbs, then after a brief pause I pull them down, releasing my now turgid penis. As I do so Mrs. Stewart claps her hands to her mouth and I start to cry. After what seems like an hour, my boss stands up and comes over to me, "Now, now, dear, pull up those pretty knickers and put your skirt back on. Here, use this tissue to dry your eyes or you will smudge your mascara. You have really impressed me tonight and Mrs. Stewart just didn't believe me when I told her." At this Mrs. Stewart also gets up and comes over to me and starts to fuss about me. "I am stunned my dear. You shouldn't be at all embarrassed. I think you've worked really hard to impress us tonight," she says. "Martha was awfully worried about what state you'd be in when we got here. I know what you just did was hard, but it was also very brave of you. I think, however, that's enough excitement for you tonight. With your permission Martha, I suggest young Stephanie takes herself upstairs and gets ready for bed. And don't worry, dear, your secret is safe with me." I glance at my boss and she nods. With that I turn on my heels and get upstairs as quickly as possible. Bursting into my room, I close the door behind me and throw myself on the bed weeping from the embarrassment. I had been feeling so good about myself, and then I was made to feel dirty by exposing myself. How could they?! Yet as I lay there weeping another thought crept into my mind. That was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me, yet at the same time one of the most arousing. This thought was strangely calming, although I'm not sure why. Wiping my eyes with the tissue I was still clutching I my hands, I decided to get undressed and in to bed. I had just stepped out of my shoes and removed the blouse and was just about to take my skirt off when I heard a knock at the door. "Yes." "Stephanie. It's me, Mrs. Smith, do you mind if I come in for a moment." After a pause I respond, "No, not all ma'am." She opens the door and I standing there half dressed with make up smudged down my face, yet she comes over to me with a glow of pride on her face and gives me a big hug. "I'm so sorry for getting you to do that, I just needed her to believe. I'm so proud with how hard you worked for me tonight. I won't forget it. Tomorrow night I'll cook and we'll have a girly night together," she says. "How does that sound?" "Fine, I suppose," not quite sure how to react. "Well you get yourself and good night's sleep, and I'll see you in the morning. Well done Stephanie. Goodnight." After she leaves I finish getting undressed, but don't even bother having a wash. I just put on my nightdress, climb into bed and switch off the light. Being totally emotionally drained, I am asleep in moments. =#= At 8.00am the next morning, Mrs Stewart comes down for the breakfast which I have been preparing for the past half an hour. "Good morning, sweetie." "Good morning, ma'am," I reply to her somewhat over-friendly greeting. "You really are rather wonderful for someone who is so new to all this. I can't wait to see how well you progress with all the training Martha's got in mind for you. I shall follow your progress eagerly." '..all the training...', now that's really got me scared, and as Mrs Smith enters the dining room I look at her fearfully. Luckily she is too busy greeting Mrs Stewart to notice. What training could she be talking about? I make myself a mental note to prepare my 'resignation' letter as soon as possible. As they finish their breakfast, my boss turns to me and says, "Now don't forget my promise to make dinner for you, Stephanie. As soon as you've finished your cleaning chores, you can take the rest of the day off. Perhaps you could spend some time in the gym. I'll be back at about six o'clock. Now would you be a dear and collect Mrs Smith's bags from her room as we have to leave shortly." When I return downstairs, the two ladies are waiting in the entrance hall. "Thank you so much, my dear," Mrs Stewart says in response to me handing her her bags. "I look forward to seeing you again soon." And as she says this she leans in to give me a peck on the cheek. As I start to blush, she turns to leave saying, "Bye bye Stephanie." To which I meekly response, "Goodbye ma'am." After the excitement of yesterday, today is quite a mundane day. The rooms are quite clean and I am finished by lunchtime. After lunch I return to my room, sit down in front of my dressing table and consider what to do. Remembering that I was too upset the previous evening to do any make up practice, I decide to practice applying eye shadow. I get quite lost in the process practising different colours and combinations, trying to work out what would go with the different uniforms I have. It just seems natural to do so. After almost an hour, however, I've had enough and I decide to take up the offer of using the gym. I pick out a pair of the towelling hot-pants, pastel shades of course, a sports bra and a t-shirt. Inside the trainers I find a pair of trainer socks, and picking up a towel I head to the gym. I start out on the running machine but quickly realise that this is very different from what I am used to. My breasts are flying all over the place, and even though they're not real, it still hurts. After a good session on the bike and rowing machine, I return to the house and run myself another hot lavender bath. I don't know what it is about this lavender, but it is really calming and relaxing. Realising that time is getting on, I get out of the bath and dress in my day uniform. Just as I finish I hear the front door open so I make my way down to meet my boss. "Good afternoon, Stephanie. Have you had a good day?" "Yes, ma'am," I reply, but before I had anything to it she says. "You don't need to be in your uniform this evening. Don't forget I am treating you to a girly night. Why don't you go a get into that lovely dress we bought on Monday?" "Yes, ma'am," I reply as she heads towards the kitchen with her bags. So for the first time I have to dress as a woman, not a servant or maid, but a normal woman. For some strange reason I feel compelled to do a good job of it. May be it's the threat of 'further training' hanging over me, and the thought that if I'm good this might not be too bad. Whatever, I still make the decision to dress as well as I can. I open the wardrobe and pick out the dress, cardigan and shoes that she bought me on Monday. As I get undressed from my uniform I realise that she will be disappointed if I don't use the underwear she bought specially to go with it, so opening the drawers on my dresser, I pull out the cream lacy bra and suspender belt. Then, for some reason I cannot explain, I decide to go with a thong instead of the larger knickers. Finishing my underwear with a pair of the 'nude' stockings she chose for me, I sit at the dresser and start applying my make up for the evening. My practice with eye shadow during the day has paid off, and I am really pleased with the result. Pleased! What's happening to me? The dress is a perfect fit, and as I step into my new shoes I can't help feeling pleased with the way I look. Again with the pleased feeling! Ignoring my internal questioning, I put on my watch, pick up the cardigan and make my way downstairs. When I walk into the kitchen, Mrs Smith turns round to look at me. "Oh, you do look beautiful," she says coming over to me. "But there is something missing. Watch the dinner a moment. I'll be back shortly." Not sure what could possibly be missing, I lean over the hob and stir the risotto that's she's prepared. Moments later she returns, and asking me to turn round she clasps a gold necklace with a small cross on it around my neck. "I know you haven't got a necklace yet, so you can borrow this one for the time being. It goes well with the watch and just helps you look gorgeous," she says, leaning forward and giving me a peck on the cheek at the same time. As I stand there blushing, strangely happy with the girly camaraderie that seems to be developing between us, she passes me a gin and tonic. "To Stephanie," she says, and replying weakly I take a long draught of the drink. After dinner we retire to the lounge. I sit on one end of the sofa and my boss on the other. As we drink our coffees, she turns to me and says, "After something you said yesterday I couldn't resist getting you a little present while I was out in the shops today. If you open it now you can use it tonight," she says, passing me a small parcel. After carefully unwrapping the paper, I open the box inside to find a bright pink bikini. "I know it's not ideal for swimming in, but you can get one of those tomorrow. However, it is ideal for what I've got planned for tonight. Go and get changed into it and meet me in the gym." I have no idea what she's got planned, but following her instructions, I return to my room to get changed. As I get undressed I feel strangely disappointed as for tonight, for the first time, I felt like a woman and not just a servant. The bikini fits perfectly, but doesn't leave much to the imagination. Wrapping the towelling robe around me, I slip my feet into the trainers and head to the gym. When I get there, Mrs Smith is already in the Jacuzzi with a glass of champagne. She looks stunning and invites me to join her, handing me a glass of champagne as well. Taking off the robe, I slip into the warm water hoping that the bubbles will conceal the sight of my bulging briefs. Our 'girly evening' progresses with lots of chat about make up and clothes, and as I'm new to this, Mrs Smith does most of the talking. Soon enough the champagne is finished and I make as if to leave the Jacuzzi. "Where are you going?" Mrs Smith asks. "Well, I thought that as the champagne is finished, we might be leaving the hot tub." I reply. "Well you thought wrong, didn't you," she responds. "Come and sit next to me." As I move to sit next to her, I am struck by the strange sensation of the water pushing against my breasts. I turn round and sit back, and she moves slowly over to me. "Now I know that you were really upset by what I asked you to do last night, but I did so want Betty to know the truth so that she might be able to give me some second opinions about your progress. She obviously adores you and suggested I might try to make up for last night in some small way. What do you think she meant?" Confused, and feeling slightly uncomfortable by my boss' proximity, I just shake my head dumbly. "Well. Neither of us could help noticing last night that your little willie was excited about being let out of your panties for a while, and after you went to bed Betty and I were wondering if you had done anything to yourself since you arrived here?" "No." I replied cautiously, not knowing where this was going. "We thought not, and a good thing too, we can't have the maid playing with herself, but Betty suggested I might try this to make up to you." and with that she pulled herself round in front of me, slid her delicate fingers up my hairless legs to the bikini bottoms that my now engorged member was trying to escape from. With a little manoeuvring she eased the bikini down my legs and off my feet, until she held them up above the water in front of me. "Oh dear, you seem to have lost your swimming costume," she giggled. "Oh well, let's see what's down there." and with that she reached out with her hands and grabbed my raging penis, took a deep breath, and then ducked under water, guiding her open mouth to encase my knob. Shocked and surprised, all I could do was sit back and hold on to the sides of the Jacuzzi while she kissed, sucked and licked my swollen member in a way I had never experienced before. I just shut my eyes and enjoyed the sensation. Before too long I could feel myself exploding, and my body shook in a wave of spasms. When it was over I kept my eyes closed, enjoying the aftermath of the best blow-job I had ever enjoyed. I felt her release my now flagging penis. I heard her glide through the water. Then she grabbed my face with both hands and sought out my gaping mouth. She enclosed it with hers and let all my juices which she had just caught in her mouth, flow into mine. I opened my eyes in shock, but she just gazed into them and kept kissing me until I had swallowed all my own semen. Then she gently released me, and flowed back to the other side of the Jacuzzi, keeping eye contact with me at all times. "Well how was that then? Does that make up for last night's embarrassment?" Still shocked and trying to come to terms with the fact that I have just swallowed my own semen for the first time, I simply nod dumbly. "Now if you were a boy, what I've just done would infuriate my husband, but as you're a girl, I'm not sure he'd be too bothered. Either way, it's probably best not to tell him when you meet him tomorrow is it." I shake my head, more to remove the concept of me being a girl as opposed to agreeing not to tell her husband. "Speaking of which, it's probably time to go to bed. After all you've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow; a shopping trip, a nail appointment and meeting the man of the house for the first time. I think we probably both need our beauty sleep." I nod my head eagerly in agreement with this; gather up my stuff and before long I'm lying in bed thinking about what just happened. As I drift off to sleep, I'm still not sure what to make of it. =#= To be continued