Maid For The Job - Chapter Three free porn video

Maid for the Job Chapter Three I overslept, and when I woke up at 8.15am I panicked, thinking that my boss would be annoyed at me being late to serve her breakfast. As I quickly shower I remember that there is no need to be stressed, today's my day off and the most pressing engagement is a shopping trip. This calms me for a moment until I realise that 'shopping trip' means going out dressed as a woman. Getting out of the shower, I wrap the towel around myself and open my wardrobe to decide on what to wear. I settle on the trousers I had bought earlier in the week with another t-shirt and the cardigan. Returning to the bathroom, I brush my teeth, shave my face, finish drying myself, and before I realise what I am doing, I'm puffing scented powder on myself. Shaking my head I put the powder down and return to the bedroom to put on a matching white cotton bra and pair of briefs. Sitting on the stool I do my make up, keeping to lipstick and eye shadow with a hint of mascara. I still need to practice. Strangely concerned that my boss will be disappointed by my choice of outfit, I make my way down to breakfast just before nine. As I arrive, she is already sitting there reading the paper and drinking her coffee. "Well good morning. You obviously slept well. I guess it must have been the excitement of last night," she said as I blushed. "I'm slightly disappointed with your choice of clothes, but I guess it's probably best for the shopping trip ahead. Get yourself some breakfast while I get ready." As I sat eating toast and drinking coffee, my boss leaves the kitchen to get herself ready. A short time later she puts her head round the door, "Ready? Let's go." "Hmm, okay," I respond falteringly. "What's the matter? Nervous?" "Yes a little. I'm going out in public dressed as a girl." "I thought we'd been over this. If you make the effort you will not be noticed. It's up to you. Is there anything else?" "Well yes, I'm worried about having to speak to people," I reply. "Hmm. I see your concern," she responds. "I'll think about that, but you won't need to worry for the first place we are going. Come on, let's go." Sitting nervously in the passenger seat, I begin to recognise my surroundings, and soon we are outside the beauty salon where my current predicament started, could it be only four days ago! Leading me in Mrs. Smith has a few words with the girl at the desk, who I recognise as Kirsty, before turning to me. "I'm leaving you here for a little while in Kirsty's capable hands. I'll be back soon." With that she is gone and I am alone. It's takes a little while until I realise that Kirsty is calling me. "Come with me Stephanie, I just need to check you over before we start any work." As I follow her to the back of the salon, the other clients smile at me in a friendly manner. Do they know I'm not a girl? Kirsty leads me into the waxing room, "Okay, strip off down to your undies, I just need to check you over for errant hairs." Following her instructions I take off my shoes, unzip and step out of my trousers, but as I remove my t-shirt over my head, Kirsty let's out a whistle. "Oh, I see you've had some work done since I last saw you," she says, pointing to my bra encased breasts. "Very nice! You can leave the bra on; it won't get in the way. Lie down." Once I'm lying down, Kirsty checks over my body, chest, arms, legs, back and arm pits plucking and waxing a few stray hairs. After a few minutes she is satisfied and instructs me to get dressed again. "It should be about two or three weeks before you need to come back for more treatment, but you will have to take care shaving that lovely face of yours. Remember to moisturise. Follow me." As we return to the main part of the salon, Kirsty hands me over to Beatrice who washes my hair and then sits me up in a styling chair. "You're really going to like what we've got planned for you today," she says, and when a look of concern flashes across my face, she misreads it saying, "Oh don't worry, I'm not cutting any off, just styling it," and she sets about working on my hair, chatting all the time. After what seems like an age my hair is full of curlers and she beckons me over to a chair underneath a huge plastic dome. "Sit here my dear and we'll put the drier on to set your style. While you're here Sally will do your nails." As I sit there Sally, who inflicted the 'Shocker' on me earlier in the week comes over and sits in front of me. Starting with my toes again she cleans the varnish off, and files the nails before asking me to choose a colour. As before I am unwilling to choose the colour of the varnish so she gives me a choice 'Scarlet' or 'Deep Purple'. Thinking about what the colour would look like on my finger nails I choose 'Deep Purple'. "A lovely colour," she says, before applying two coats to each nail. "Now, how are you coping with your new fingernails? Ruined many tights?" "I haven't really got used to them yet, and yes I have ruined some of my ... some tights." "Okay, no new extensions this week, but I have been given instructions for something different, a French manicure, apparently it will go really well with an outfit you've got." I have no idea what a 'French' manicure is, but I blush because I can only think the 'outfit' she has mentioned is the maids outfit. The French manicure turns out to be quite plain so I feel a little relaxed, and as Sally finishes, Mrs. Smith returns. "Just in time for the reveal," Beatrice says, motioning me back over to her styling chair. Facing me away from the mirror she starts removing all the curlers from my hair, fiddles around with it a little and then smothers it with spray. "Ready," she says when she's finished, looking me in the eye smiling. I just shrug and as I do so she spins the chair round. I am greeted by a shocking sight. Gone is my relatively androgynous bob to be replaced by an unmistakably feminine curly hairdo. "Oh, how delightful," says my boss. "What a wonderful job. Now come on Stephanie, no time to sit there admiring yourself, we've got places to go." With cries of 'See you soon', I am ushered out of the salon and back to the car. As I walk I can feel the unmistakable sensation of my hair bouncing. Combined with the bouncing of my breasts, there is no way I can deny the fact that I look like a girl. Back in the car Mrs. Smith hands me a small bag. "Open it, there's something you've asked for in there." Not knowing what she's talking about as I can't recall asking for anything I reach into the bag and pull out a small box containing a bottle that looks like a perfume spray. Reading the confused look on my face, Mrs. Smith explains it is a vocal spray designed to refresh and tighten the vocal chords which should help with my voice concerns. "Go on, try it," she says. I pull of the cap and give it a couple of squirts. The cool liquid feels soothing in my throat, not at all unpleasant. "Well, say something." "Like what," I respond, and suddenly stop. While not dramatic, there is a definite difference in my voice. "Apparently the more you use it, the better the effect is. Perhaps you might want to use it some more before you meet Mr. Smith this evening. Just follow the instructions." As I read the instructions, Mrs. Smith pulls away, and soon we are back at the department store we visited on Monday. "Come on, you need to get yourself a swimming costume." "Do I?" "Oh, don't be obtuse Stephanie, of course you do," she responded, "You can't swim around in that lovely bikini all the time, that's purely for posing. You'll need a swim hat to protect that lovely hair of yours as well. Here, you'll need this," she added passing me a load of cash. "This is ?200, a slightly early advance as it's not quite been a week yet. Don't spend it all at once as you won't get anymore until the end of the month." "What am I meant to do with this?" I enquire. "Why spend it of course!" "But where should I put it," I asked, "I don't have a purse." "Well, you'll have to get one then. For the time being you can just put it in your cleavage." With no other choice I pulled the front of my t-shirt down slightly and secrete the cash between my breast form and the fabric of the bra before following my boss out of the car. Inside the store, the first thing we looked for was a handbag and a purse. We found a brown leather handbag that came with a free purse and decided to buy that straight away. As we approached the cash desk, I realised I had to get the cash out of my bra, not easy to do surreptitiously, and I am sure I got looks, the cashier certainly noticed. "Would madam like these wrapped," she said with a bit of a sneer on her face. I turned to look at Mrs. Smith, and then realised she was talking to me. "No thank you, I'll take them now," I said, surprising myself with how much softer my voice sounded since using the spray. I paid for the items, and then put the remaining cash in my purse and the purse in the handbag. "Right, now for swimwear," said Mrs. Smith, and I turned to follow her. Conscious of how I had reacted in the bikini the night before, I chose a purple swim-dress hoping the dress part would cover up any unsightly bulges. On the advice of my boss, I also chose a similarly coloured swim-hat and a pair of flip-flops. After I paid for them, we headed out of the store, but before we got to the exit, Mrs. Smith decided she needed the toilet. Much to her disappointment I said I didn't need to go and was quite happy to wait outside, not quite getting the 'going together' thing. As soon as she was gone, however, I had a sudden realisation that I was all alone. I could run away. But where to, particularly when dressed as I was? It was then that I noticed I was waiting by the stationery section of the store. That would be my way out, the letter of resignation! Quickly I purchased a pad of paper and a pen, and had I just put them into my handbag when I saw Mrs. Smith come out of the toilet. "Ready for lunch?" she said as we headed back towards the car. "It's on me today." =#= After lunch in a local pub, we headed back to the house. "This evening is quite an important occasion for you in many ways," Mrs. Smith started as we neared the house. "It will be the first time you have met Mr. Smith and I really want to make sure he is impressed. Rather than get a take out, I think it will be appropriate for you to prepare and serve dinner. We will also need to make sure you look your best so I might need to give you a hand with your make-up as you're still learning." I nodded keenly, not so much keen to be wearing make-up as keen to make sure that I looked as feminine as possible. Suddenly the thought of being in the vicinity of another man had me worried. If I was going to be dressed as a woman, I didn't want there to be any doubt in his mind that I was one. The fear of being exposed as some sort of weirdo was too great. As we pulled into the drive, Mrs. Smith said "It's just gone two now. If you make sure the dining room and lounge are spotless and start getting dinner ready, you can stop at four and we can start getting you ready." When we entered the house I started to walk up stairs. "Where are you going?" asked Mrs. Smith. "To get changed into my uniform." "Oh, don't worry about that now dear, you haven't got time," she countered. "Just put a pinny over what you're wearing." The next two hours flew by in a flurry of activity making sure everything was ready for the man of the house to return. The clock in the hall was just striking four as I put the b?uf bourguignon in the oven for a slow cook. Moments later Mrs. Smith entered the kitchen. "Right, time to get you upstairs and ready. Run yourself a bath using that nice lavender bubble bath you like. You don't need a long soak, just to freshen up after the trip to town and your feverish activity. I'll be up in about an hour to help you with your make-up." Getting to my room, I slip off my loafers and get the bath running, adding a generous glug of the bubble bath. The scent is intoxicating as it mixes with the hot water as I return to my bedroom to get undressed. Placing my now dirty t-shirt and trousers into the wash basket, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. With my new hairdo and my full chest I look quite the girl. The only thing that bothers me is, well, my thing. Even though I'm not aroused at all, it is still obvious to me that my panties contain a secret! Snapping out of my reverie, I sit down at the dressing table to remove my make-up. Unclasping my bra as I walk through to the bathroom again, I feel my breasts drop, and I wonder what it must be like to have real breasts and encounter that feeling every time you remove a bra. Letting the bra drop to the floor, I start to slide the panties down my legs but they catch slightly on my semi-turgid penis. Why is that? It can't be because I've been thinking about what it must be like to have real breasts! It must just be because I'm relaxed. Stepping out of the panties, I turn off the water and slip into the hot bath. Careful not to get my new hairdo wet, I lay back and soak in the luxurious bubbles and hot water, letting myself be seduced by the aroma. =#= Some time later I am awakened from the sleep I have fallen into by Mrs. Smith's voice. She is in my bedroom. "Come on Stephanie, you need to get out of there and get dressed otherwise we won't have time to get your make-up down. I've got your clothes out for you." When I get into the bedroom with my towelling robe wrapped tightly around me, she is gone, leaving my attire for the evening of the bed. Black satin bra and knickers, the dreaded corset, black stockings, black skirt, white blouse and black court shoes. A sense of trepidation fills me. Last time I wore this outfit I was humiliated in front of Mrs. Smith and her friend, Mrs. Stewart. As I stand there feeling trapped, Mrs. Smith re-enters the room holding the apron that goes with the outfit. "What are you waiting for Stephanie? You need to get ready. Mr. Smith will be here in just over an hour." For once I managed to find some confidence. "Last time I wore this outfit you humiliated me. I don't want it to happen again." I blurted out. "Oh, I see what you're worried about," she said moving across the room towards me. "As long as you're a good girl, nothing like that will happen tonight. It will be our little secret," she added, placing her finger on my lips. "Now get dressed. And don't worry about me; I've seen it all before." Reaching into the chest of drawers I pull out a black satin thong and slide it on under my robe. "What's wrong with the knickers I put on the bed?" she asked. "I have found that the thongs are a bit tighter and better at concealing my penis than the panties," I replied. "Oh," she said. "Show me." As I took off the robe she moved towards me again. "I see what you mean. Try putting the knickers on as well," she added, handing me the knickers from the bed. I slid them up my legs and stood there, waiting for her comments. "Hmm that looks even better," she said, and reached over and patted the front of the satin knickers. I felt the contact through the fabric and instantly my penis began to get harder. "Oops. What have I done? I'd best not touch you down there anymore for the moment otherwise it will really give the came away. We'll have to do something about that later. Oh, and by the way, calling it a 'penis' isn't very lady-like; say 'thingy' if you have to refer to it at all." As she passed me the bra my head was spinning. Why did I react the way I did and what did she mean 'do something about that later'? "Last time you wore this," she said holding up the corset, "I don't think you did it tight enough so we'd better get it done properly this time." As I did up the clips at the front, she grabbed the ribbons and started pulling. It got as tight as I had managed myself and I thought that would be enough. I was wrong. Two more hard tugs and she seemed to be satisfied. As she tied up the ribbons, she said over my shoulder, "How's that?" "Fine," I lied, biting my lower lip. As I sat down to roll the stockings up my legs and clip them on to the suspenders hanging from the corset, she smiled at me. "You're getting the hang of that, aren't you? You're doing it almost as well as a real girl. Almost like you've done it before." I blushed and hoped that she took my reaction as a response to praise rather than an admission, even if she had hit on a secret. Once, just once, I had dressed in my mother's clothes as a bet with my brother. The humiliation of being caught by my father was something I will never forget. "Thank you," I responded to try to prevent further digging. "Right, now for the make-up," she said. "Turn round, face me and do as I say." Several minutes later, she stood back and looked at me. "Done!" she said, reaching her hands out to me. "Now stand up and look at yourself in the full length mirror". Rising to me feet I padded across the thick carpet in my stocking clad feet. I was astonished. Before me I could see a glamorous, and quite sexy woman, clad only in her underwear. It took me a while before I remembered that it was me. "You can't stand there staring at yourself all night," she said. "He'll be here in fifteen minutes." I buttoned up the blouse more easily this time. The skirt slid up my legs and around my waist, and as I zipped it up at the back it fitted perfectly this time. After tying the apron around my waist, I slipped my feet into the heels. "Ready," she asks. "Ready as I'll ever be." "I guarantee he will not be able to tell," she says leaning over and patting the apron. "Now, off you go." "Aren't you coming?" "I'll be right behind you. I just want to watch." As I walked past her she reached out and patted my rear. As we reached the bottom of the stairs, we both heard the car pulling up in the drive. "Go on, then," she said, "You should open the door. Don't forget to say 'Good evening sir'. First impressions count, remember." Moments later I heard his footsteps on the driveway and opened the door. Mr. Smith was a tall, well built man, unlike me, and as he entered the house carrying his briefcase and coat I said, "Good evening, sir", and gave a small curtsey. "Good evening," he replied. "You must be the new home help my wife has been telling me about. What is your name?" "Stephanie, sir, "I replied. "Can I take your coat and briefcase?" "Yes please." As I took his coat and briefcase I could see he eyes looking me up and down checking me out. Could he tell my secret? At this point Mrs. Smith joined in. "Good evening, darling," she said, gliding over and giving him a kiss. "I see you've met Stephanie. She has settled in well so far this week and is a most excellent cook. Stephanie," she added, turning to me, "Could you bring two G&Ts into the front room for us please. I need to tell Mr. Smith all about you." "Yes ma'am," I responded with a look of fear on my face. What did she mean to 'tell him all about me'? Thankfully he didn't see my reaction. She just smiled and turned with her husband towards the lounge. =#= As it happened, 'tell him all about me' meant where I had come from, what I had been doing during the week, how well I had settled in and all that. Once they had finished their drinks I served their dinner in the dining room and they were both very complimentary about my cooking. "Thank you," I responded with a curtsey. It all seemed to be coming so naturally. Surely this was wrong. After dinner they retired to the lounge with the rest of the wine I had chosen from their cellar, leaving me to tidy up the dining room and kitchen. Once I had done this and had something of my own to eat it was about ten o'clock so I cautiously knocked on the lounge door. "Come in," was the response from Mrs. Smith. As I walked in I was relieved to see that they were just watching a film. "Sorry to interrupt you, I was just wondering if there would be anything for tonight." "Not tonight, Stephanie, but we would like breakfast in bed in the morning at 8.30am. Goodnight." "Goodnight, ma'am," I replied, slightly puzzled because I thought I wouldn't be working over the weekend. I couldn't really complain though, so I close the door and went up upstairs. I sat on the edge of my bed and slipped off the shoes. Although I had begun to get used to walking in them, the relief when I took them off was significant and I sat they rubbing my stockinged feet for a while. Standing up I unzipped the skirt and slid it down my legs. I had to admit the sensation was pleasant as the underskirt brushed against my stockings. The skirt would do another wear, as would the blouse, but I had got a small splash of something on the apron so that went into the wash. I also took off the uncomfortable thong and put the knickers back on, no longer worried about anyone discovering my 'thingy'. Clad only in my underwear, I sat down at the dressing table to remove my make up, and as I did so I heard a knock at the door. Before I could answer, Mrs. Smith walked in with a smile on her face. I got up to put a robe on. "Oh, no need to worry about that dear," she said moving towards me. I stood there, frozen like a rabbit in the headlights as she moved closer. Reaching out her hand she started stroking my hair. "I just came up to tell you how wonderful you were and give you a reward." As she said this, she moved closer to me. She moved her hand from my hair to my neck, pulled my face to hers and planted a kiss on my lips. As she did so, she placed her other hand on my knicker-covered behind pulling me still closer. She broke off the kiss, looked me in the eye and kissed me again, this time forcing open my lips with her tongue. I just stood there frozen, not knowing what to do and increasingly concerned that she could feel the growing sensation in my groin. Eventually she pulled back. "You did really well tonight my dear, and he has absolutely no idea about your little secret," she said reaching out and touching the front of my knickers. "Oh," she added in 'fake' surprise, "but he would do now wouldn't he?" She kept her hand there and started gently stroking my 'thingy' through the satin fabric of the knickers. Once again she started kissing me, continually rubbing my 'thingy' as her tongue explored my mouth and her free hand caressed my head. I couldn't help the growing arousal; the perfume, the delicate fabrics, the proximity to a beautiful woman was all over whelming and before long, no matter how hard I tried not to, I exploded inside my knickers. "Oh," she said as she pulled away from me and looked downwards. "I seem to have made a mess." My semen was seeping through and round the fabric of the knickers and, as she was still gently stroking me, it was all over her hand. With no chance to react, she pulled away her hand, and placed one of her semen covered fingers in my mouth. "I suppose I need to go back to my husband with a clean hand otherwise he might suspect something is up," and one by one placed all her fingers in my mouth until I had licked her whole hand clean. "Now, I think you need to clean yourself up get to bed. Breakfast at 8.30 and I want you looking smart. Goodnight." As she closed the door behind, I collapsed on the bed, overwhelmed by what had just happened. Sometime later I got up, removed my soiled knickers and placed them in the laundry basket. After removing the bra and stockings, I struggled to remove the corset, but when I eventually did, the sense of relief was palpable. In the bathroom I carefully washed my groin clean of any remaining juices and brushed my teeth. Returning to the bedroom I put on my pale blue satin pyjama set and then sat down to remove the remainder of my make up. I stared into the sad, confused, girlish face I saw in the mirror, until, overwhelmed by exhaustion and emotion, I checked the alarm, switched of the light and slipped into bed, immediately falling into a fitful sleep. =#= Early in the morning I rose, dressed in my 'normal' uniform and started to get the breakfast ready. At exactly 8.30am, I knocked on their bedroom door and walked in. Mr. Smith was still asleep, but Mrs. Smith was already sitting up reading, her cleavage framed by her gorgeous white satin and lace nightdress. "Place the tray on the dresser will you sweetie. You may be wondering," she added while I followed her instruction, "why we are now asking you to work the weekend as well. Mr. Smith felt that as you are getting all your accommodation and food for free, and all the beauty treatment to boot," she whispered, "that one day off per week is ample. Is that acceptable?" What else could I say? "Yes, ma'am," I responded with a curtsey. "Excellent. We will take lunch at one in the dining room," she added and dismissed me from the room. =#= As I was pouring coffee for them in the lounge after lunch, Mrs. Smith called me over. "I don't know if you've already thought about dinner tonight, but Mr. Smith has decided to take me out to a new restaurant that has opened nearby. We'll go out shopping later this afternoon and then on to the restaurant. That means you'll be home alone this evening. Does that affect any of your plans?" "No," I replied truthfully because I hadn't even thought about dinner. But my plans might change now; home alone?! "There's also going to be a slight change tomorrow. Mr. Smith will not be joining me for lunch as he's playing golf, but there will be three of us; myself, Mrs. Stewart and a very special guest. I want you to make a real effort for this guest so it will probably keep you busy tonight. Just as well we're going out isn't it," she finished. As I tidied up the lunch things I began thinking about the evening. My first thought was if I was home alone, I could do anything I wanted, such as escape, but then I was struck by the thought of where I could possibly go in the clothes I had, particularly with stuck on breasts and flouncy hair. Also, my upbringing kicked in telling me it was wrong to disobey an order and upset people, so I had to make the effort to ensure tomorrow's lunch was perfect for this 'special' guest, whoever it was. I resolved to complete my chores, spend some time in the gym and pool, and then write my letter of resignation after my dinner. I managed to complete all the chores just before they left, including doing as much preparation as I could for the following day's meal. As they drove down the drive, I returned to my room, took off my now dirty uniform and changed into a pair of short and a t-shirt. Grabbing my new swimming costume, flip flops and a towel, I headed down to the pool house. After a work out on the fitness equipment, I stripped off nervously in the constant fear that somebody might see this thing that I had become. Climbing quickly into my new swim dress I noticed how it matched the colour of the nail varnish Sally applied earlier in the day. Slipping into the warm water I noticed how much the bouncy of my ... the breasts in the water changed the weight; it was so comfortable, much more so that wearing a bra. As I began breast-stroking across the pool, careful not to get my hair wet, I wondered to myself if the warm water would dissolve the adhesive. After fifteen minutes nothing had changed, I got out of the pool, wrapped the towel around my waist, grabbed my things and returned to the main house. As I ran another lavender bath, I stripped off the swimming costume and rinsed it out. Lying back in the bubbles with my skin tingling, I gently sponged myself clean of the chlorinated residue, increasingly intoxicated by the aroma rising from the warm water. Eventually I got out of the bath and started to towel myself down. As I did so I realised that this was the third time today I had been totally soaked. Without thinking about it, once I was dry, I reached for the tub of moisturiser and started rubbing it into my legs, then all over my body as if it were the most natural thing to do. Wrapping the robe around myself I returned to the bedroom to get dressed. My instinctive reaction was to wear the simplest thing possible, but I felt nice, feminine even, and decided to go for the black satin underwear Mrs. Smith encouraged me to buy on my first day. Slipping on the knickers and bra, I wrapped the suspender belt around my waist and sat down to roll a pair of sheer black stockings up my smooth legs. I gave myself a small, mental cheer when I managed to do this without creating a ladder. Then, sitting at my dressing table only in my lingerie, I did the next most natural thing, and practiced my make-up despite the lack of need. After half an hour I sat back, pleased with the results. A glance at the clock told me it was nearly 8 o'clock and I was starting to feel hungry. Opening the wardrobe I realised my choice of clothing was the trousers, which were now in the wash, or the flowery dress which wasn't really for evening wear, and I caught myself feeling disappointed that I hadn't got something else to wear because I didn't really want to wear any of my uniforms. I was just reaching for the floral dress when an idea struck me. My boss was out, she wouldn't notice if I borrowed one of her dresses would she? We were about the same height, and although I was bigger than her, it wasn't by much. Perhaps she had some clothes she didn't wear anymore? Before I thought about it anymore, I found myself padding down the corridor clad only in my stockinged feet and lingerie and walking into her dressing room and opening the wardrobe. The range of outfits in there was amazing, any girl's dream wardrobe, but the one item that caught my attention was a royal blue satin dress. As I ran my hands along the rack of beautiful clothes I was immediately attracted by its feel so I reached up and pulled it off the rail. The label said it was a size 14. Not really sure what that meant I took it off the hanger and was just about to put it on when I stopped myself. What was I doing? A couple of hours I had been considering escape and now here I was clad only in lingerie and about to step into a beautiful dress, by choice! What had happened to me? Replacing the dress, I returned to my room and took off the fancy lingerie. Digging out a pair of cotton briefs and, reluctantly a bra, I dressed in the other pair of shorts and a clean T-shirt, and sat down to write my letter of resignation immediately, citing 'unfair working' conditions as my reason for wishing to go. Leaving the letter in an envelope by the phone, I fetched myself some dinner, then decided on an early night, realising that not only would my boss expect me to be in good shape for this special guest tomorrow, but also that she would probably be cross about the letter. =#= Assuming they wanted breakfast at the same time, I knocked on their bedroom door at 8.30am the following morning. When invited I walked in and started as I saw Mr. Smith leaving their ensuite bathroom with a towel wrapped round his waist. I averted my eyes and felt ashamed. There was a real man with hairy chest and everything, not some freak like me parading around in lingerie and dresses! As I left the tray on the dresser and turned to leave, Mrs. Smith called out. "Good morning Stephanie. If you start getting things ready for lunch today, I will meet you in the kitchen in an hour's time." "Yes ma'am," I replied, avoiding her gaze. =#= An hour later, I was standing in the kitchen, peeling the last of the potatoes reading for roasting when Mrs. Smith walked into the kitchen. "The guest that Mrs. Stewart and I are entertaining today is very special, and I will want you looking especially good and being on your best behaviour. I think because of the occasion, and the wonderful work you had done in the salon on Friday, I would like you to wear the French maids outfit. As you haven't worn it since the first day at Aunt Mary's, you may need some help. I have already taking the liberty of getting everything out of that you need and placing it on your bed. When you're ready, let me know and I'll come up and help you," with that she turned and walked out of the room. My first reaction was to be relieved that she didn't mention the letter, perhaps she hadn't read it, also that she hadn't said if she had noticed that I had been in her closet. Then I realised the implications of what she had said. Whoever this special guest was, I was going to have to wear the ridiculous French maids outfit. Obviously everything I was wearing was ridiculous for a man, but even for a woman the outfit was daft. Throughout the rest of the morning I tried to delay the inevitable, but once everything was ready, I made my way upstairs with a sense of foreboding. Hanging up on the wardrobe was the dreaded dress with the four inch healed boots. On the bed in my room I found my lingerie for the day; corset, black satin bra, black ruffled panties, fishnet stockings and the apron and headdress. Once I had stripped all of my non-sexy but quite practical day uniform I put on the bra and panties, making sure I had put a black thong on underneath. The panties looked ridiculous but felt quite comfortable. However, I realised that I could not go any further without help as there is no way I could put the corset on myself so, wrapping my bath robe around me and slipping on my mules I went to find Mrs. Smith. When I found her, she was in the lounge reading a magazine. "Ahh, Stephanie," she said. "You seem a little under-dressed. How can I help you?" "I need help getting dressed," I replied quietly. "What was that? I didn't quite hear you." "I need help getting dressed," I replied, louder this time, also realising that she was leading me. "Can't you get dressed yourself?" she asked in mock-surprise. "I can't put my corset on properly myself and need help doing up the ribbons on the dress as well. Please," I added as an after-thought. "So you're asking me to help you dress up as a maid," she pushed. "Yes please," I stuttered, realising there was no way out. "Why didn't you say so dear? Of course I'll help." I followed her upstairs to my bedroom, taking off the robe when instructed to do so and placing the corset lightly around my waist. Raising my arms in the air so she could pull the laces tight, I was a little alarmed when she said the corset might need to be tighter for the maid's dress. Either I was becoming used to the corset, or it was a veiled threat, but when she had finished it seemed no tighter than it had done previously. "Now, slide the suspenders underneath the knickers and sit yourself down on the bed. I know you're getting used to stockings, but fishnets are different." Once I was ready she showed me how to carefully roll the fishnet stockings up my legs, making sure the diamond pattern was the same throughout, before clipping them to the suspenders. "Now for the dress. Stand up," she instructed me. I had to raise my hands again so she could lower the dress over my head. Once in place the low cut front revealed my cleavage without showing my bra, the short, cap sleeves, discreetly covered my bra straps, but the short skirt, with all its netting underskirts, stuck out, barely concealing my ruffled knickers. As she grabbed the ribbons and started to tie the dress up, I could see it forming perfectly around my corseted frame in the mirror. Pinning the headdress to my hair, she said "I'll leave you to do the apron, boots and your makeup yourself while I go and get changed. Remember, this is an important guest so you need to look good." Without protest, I did exactly as she said. Sitting down at my dressing table I did the best effort I had done yet at my makeup, finished off with crimson lipstick which seemed appropriate. Moving to the edge of my bed, I started work on the boots. They fit perfectly, and before long they were fully laced up to my calves. Now for the real test, standing! Pushing myself up with my hands, I stood there, tottering on the four inch heals. Picking up the ridiculously small, white satin apron I tied it around my reduced waist and looked at myself in the mirror. The unmistakably feminine, yet ridiculous reflection of a French Maid greeted me. One part of me relaxed because there was no way anyone would mistake me for anything other than a woman, the other part felt frustrated at the expectation that I would have to perform my duties wearing this daft outfit. Realising I had no option other than to comply, particularly as I couldn't remove myself from the outfit without help, I made my way carefully downstairs, and started laying the dining table. A short time later I heard footsteps behind me. "Oh my," said Mrs. Smith. "Do turn round so I can get a good look and check everything is fine." As I stood up and turned round I was surprised by my boss's change in outfit. She was also wearing calf length boots like me, but with black stockings and a figure hugging black dress. She had also done her hair up in a bun on top of her head. The whole effect was quite severe. She seemed pleased with my efforts as she fussed over me and then stood back. "Right, you have about half an hour until Mrs. Stewart arrives, and then the special guest will be here at one. Everything ready?" "It will be, ma'am," I replied and then, as an after thought, I curtseyed. "Well done, we'll make something of you yet," she smiled. =#= True to her word, exactly half an hour later, the doorbell rang and when I opened the door, Mrs. Stewart was standing outside. "Good afternoon, ma'am," I greeted her and stood aside as she came in. "My word, what a wonderful effort you've made! You look absolutely gorgeous," she gasped, giving me a peck on the cheek before adding, "Well done." Despite myself, I couldn't help but feel a glow of pride with the fact that she was so impressed with my efforts. I lead her into the sitting room where my boss was waiting, and as I left the room to get their G&Ts, I heard the two women chatting about me. =#= Half an hour later, everything was ready, all we were waiting for was the special guest. Then, almost on the dot of one, the front door bell rang again. As I moved into the entrance hall, I noticed my boss and Mrs. Stewart come out of the sitting room, obviously keen to meet the guest. At this point I started to get nervous. Who was it that was so special? As I faltered, I heard, "Go on Stephanie, open the door. Don't keep our guest waiting." Reaching the door, I open it wide and there, standing on the doorstep, was my mother! My heart froze. My mouth went dry. "Manners Stephanie", I heard behind me. "Good afternoon, ma'am," I managed to stutter out, "Do come in." Then I stumbled aside as my mother walked through the door giving me a strange look. "Good afternoon Mrs. Thompson," my boss said, stepping forward to shake my mother's hand. "I'm so pleased you could make it. Do excuse Stephanie, she's only been with us a week. Gin and Tonic?" When my mother nodded, my boss led her towards the sitting room, throwing me an instruction to bring three G&Ts in. As I watched them walk away, Mrs. Stewart came up to me. "Well done, Stephanie. Keep it together, and I am sure you will make you mother proud!" Making my mother proud! Sure that's something I always wanted to do, but not like this. "Does she already know," I managed to stammer out. "Not yet, but no mother can mistake their son. Just go and get the drinks and it will all be fine," she reassured me. =#= A few minutes later I walked into the sitting with the drinks and carefully handed them to each of the ladies. As I gave my mother her drink, she looked me deep in the eyes before thanking me with a strange smile. As I turned to leave, my boss interrupted me. "Stephanie, do stay her a moment, I would like to introduce you to our special guest properly." As I turned my heart sank. "Mrs. Thompson, or may I call your Samantha." When my mother nodded, she continued, "I can tell from your face that you think may have met Stephanie before and perhaps know her." "Yes, I do, but I can't think where. There is something so familiar about her though." "Well, allow me to put you out of your misery. Stephanie is, in fact, your son, and he, or should I say she, started working for me last Monday." My mother's mouth fell open. "Is it really true? Is that you Simon?" I had no choice. "Yes it is mother." A slight cough from my boss lead me to add, "Although please call me Stephanie, ma'am," and I finished with a curtsey. Slowly she stood up and walked over to me looking me up and down all over. "Well, well! Who'd have thought it possible? How and why did this happen?" "We can discuss this over lunch, Samantha," my boss responded, "This is, after all, why I invited you here. Stephanie, please go and get lunch ready, we will be ready to eat in five minutes." =#= During lunch I was not allowed to remain in the dining room to hear the conversation, but I caught some comments which lead me to realise that the whole conversation was about me. The meal went very well, and all three ladies were extremely pleased with what I had produced. After lunch they decided to take coffee in the sitting room, and a few moments later, as I was cleaning in the kitchen, I heard the bell summon me. "Yes ma'am," I said on entering the sitting room, taking care not to look at my mother. "Stephanie, there are a couple of things we would like to discuss with you. Firstly this resignation letter in which you accuse me of unfair working conditions. How have I treated you unfairly? You have full board and lodging and ?800 a month. Is that unfair?" "It's the clothes," I stammered. "What, you mean the clothes I bought for you. When you started this job you agreed to wear uniform appropriate for the job. We've been through this before. When your first pay check arrives you may go out and buy yourself some boyish clothes if you wish, but this is the uniform you agreed to. If that's you only reason for saying the working conditions are unfair then that is unacceptable and a lie. Agreed?" I couldn't do anything but agree, everything she said was true, so I nodded. "What was that Stephanie, I couldn't hear you?" "Yes ma'am." "Yes ma'am, what?" "Yes ma'am, I agree it was an unacceptable thing to say." "The second thing is that last night I think you went in to one of my closets to borrow my clothes. Is this true? Think carefully before you respond." With no way out I said, "Yes ma'am, I did, although I didn't actually wear anything." "Why not, is there something wrong with my clothes? "No ma'am, but they're not the right clothes for a boy." "But you're not a boy, or at least you don't look like one. Going through my closet is also unacceptable. For these two misdemeanours, I believe punishment is in order." As she said this she stood up and walked over the dresser, removing a paddle. "Now, bend over, holding the arm of my chair," she instructed me. When I didn't move, my mother added, "Go on Stephanie, do as you're told. Be a good girl." As I bent over, the skirt of my dress rose up fully exposing my ruffled knickers. "I think one stroke for each misdemeanour will be enough for know," my boss informed me before whacking my satin and lace covered backside twice. Tears began to come to my eyes, not because it hurt, but because of the humiliation. Once she had stopped, I began to stand up. "Wait a moment, your mother has something to say as well." "Many years ago, your father caught you wearing my clothes," my mother started. "I never punished you at the time because I felt the embarrassment was enough punishment. Chatting with Martha over lunch as lead me to believe that was a mistake, so you will get two strokes from me as well, one for going into my closet and another for actually wearing the clothes." I couldn't believe my mother was going to spank me as well. I started to get up, only to feel my boss's hand in the small of my back. "Stay where you are Stephanie, or there may be more to come." Two strokes later I was given permission to stand up, and through my tears I could see all three women looking at me. "Now," began Mrs. Smith, "Your mother has asked if she can take you out for the afternoon, for some mother-daughter bonding time. I had my doubts at first, but having seen her administer such appropriate, if belated, punishment, I think it is safe to let you out for a while. You cannot, of course, go dressed as you are so you will need to get changed into something appropriate first. Off you go, and return promptly." When I didn't leave immediately, she asked why I wasn't moving. "I need someone to loosen my ribbons and laces first please ma'am," I responded. "I'll help you, my dear," said Mrs. Stewart. "I'm sure your mother and Martha have lots to discuss. Off we go now," and she shooed me out of the sitting room and up to my bedroom. =#= Several minutes of fussing to 'make sure I looked good for my big outing' later, I returned downstairs with Mrs. Stewart wearing the first outfit my boss had chosen for me, the flowery dress matched with the dusky pink cardigan and velvet brown sling-backs. Underneath I was wearing the cream lacy lingerie set she had chosen for me, with a thong under the knickers to protect my modesty (Mrs. Stewart had agreed this was a good idea) and some nude stockings. Mrs. Stewart had also primped my hair and checked my make-up for me. As I entered the sitting room carrying my hand bag all ready to go, my mother and boss both turned round. "Oh my," said my mother, "you do look beautiful. Anybody can look smart in uniform, but you look gorgeous." As she said this she stood up and gave me a big hug. Although this whole situation felt strange, it also felt good to be praised by my mother. "Right, it's three o'clock now. I won't expect Stephanie to cook tonight, my husband and I can get a take-out, but please ensure she is back in good time as she has her first day at school tomorrow and needs to be fresh." Mrs. Smith was directing this at my mother, but it was a jolt for me as I had quite forgotten about 'school'. "Of course. I think we'll go for a spot of shopping and then dinner. I'll bring her back no later than ten. Is that okay." When my boss nodded her agreement, my mother continued, "Thank you so much for everything you are doing for Simon, I mean Stephanie. This is a wonderful opportunity you are giving him, sorry her, I just hope she learns to appreciate it." With that she gave the two other ladies kisses, bade them farewell, took me by my manicured hand and led me out of the front door to her car. =#= To be continued...