Life Swap - Prestige And Service free porn video

Life Swap - Prestige and Service Belladonna One summer evening, after imbibing a bit too much wine at the country club, I stumbled while I came through the front door of my home. My demeanor seemed to catch Isabella Garcia, my Central American maid, by surprise as she greeted me and asked, "Is there anything I can get for you, Mr. Fearnley?" Having just eaten dinner at the club, I shook my head and said, "No," before I added, "Thank you for asking." Isabella smiled as she bobbed and got back to her labors. I admired that girl. I knew that she enjoyed working for me, simply because I did not treat her like scum for not being born into wealth like my peers and myself. Many of my peers believed that the good fortune of their births made them better than others. I did not share that belief. Indeed, I often thought of their characteristic, pretentiousness, haughtiness and wastrel behavior as being beneath civilized behavior. Still, I put up with them because my family always taught me that it was the thing to do. Like most of the others in the circle I found myself born into, I had inherited my wealth from parents. What I had not inherited, however, was their disdain for all those that had to work for a living. As a condescending as my thoughts may seem in retrospect, I had a certain respect for those who actually labored with their hands. It seemed as if they had more of a purpose than simply making it to a tennis match or tee time while some monkey in a suit grew your portfolio by investing in a company where the smartest folks seemed to be those finding new ways to increase efficiencies by putting the screws to someone and laying off others. I admired what I thought was their simple lives, free of the complexity of trying to justify for own existence. After all, struggling to survive tends to keep the philosophical questions that plague the idle mind about one's purpose at bay. My admiration was not shared by my aristocratic friends. I had grown up around others who scorned their domestics like their parents, even as I was so close to mine. Silvina had practically raised me single handedly as my father worked his for show job as an executive that largely kept him from ever having to do any actual work, while my mother went about with the society ladies. My Spanish mother certainly stuck out a bit from the other ladies of leisure. She was taller than they were, and she had been a model before she married my father and came to America as his trophy wife. While my mother's family was well off, my father's family had far greater wealth and allowed my mother to give up even the pretense of working. The other society ladies, looked down on my mother, even as their husbands fawned over her. She was not like those women, as she was unable to join the Daughters of the American Revolution, but she was tolerated because of my father's wealth. You would think that the condescension that my mother received from her peers may have softened her towards the plights of others, but you would be wrong. My mother was just as conceited as any of the other leading members of the lords of the WASP estates that surrounded ours. That was the primary reason that I fled New England as soon as I could. I wanted to start a new life away from my parents, but the lure of my father's money drew me back as soon realized that my cosseted upbringing had left me ill-suited to deal with the cruel realities of existing in the real world. I took to the role of being the good son. I worked a no show job like the one my dad, and I went to the society parties. I often had a large number of girls swooning after me as I looked a bit different from everyone else, even as I had access to the same type of money. I was the toast of these parties as I was able to throw fish to the clapping seals that surrounded me, who seemingly needed their egos burnished at every turn. This led me to being able to bed many of the daughters of the leading men in my community since I was not above flattering them in ways that my peers were often unwilling to lower themselves to doing. Some of my friends felt that telling a girl how wonderful she looked was almost a putdown on themselves. I did not share that assessment. What my friends and the rich girls I bedded did not know was, I had no real intention of ever marrying any of the girls I spent so much effort flattering. I was only with them for show. My true passions burned deep for the women like Silvina. I had a series of domestics over my adult years and I bedded them all. I longed for their approval, which I always received because of my position. It only got worse after my parents died. One of my girlfriends/maids left soon after father died, once she realized that despite my parents passing, I was still unable to bring our relationship into the open or to stop carrying on the show relationships I maintained with the rich girls. I was a bit heart broken when she left, but I moved on and hired a new maid. Isabella was perfect. She liked working for me, and her skills were first rate. Despite my instant attraction to Isabella, I decided that it would be cruel to lead her on like I had the others. I treated her well, but I decided to keep my hands off of her. I found that to be harder than expected as I frequently found myself leering at her. Even though she was of darker skin, hair and rougher nature than the society girls I was around, she was the one girl in my life I found the most alluring. Isabella is not exceptional in anyway. She's barely 5 feet in height, a wisp of a woman and is blessed with a face that is more cute than beautiful. I literally had girls with long lean legs, in the most stylish clothing offering themselves to me on a platter, but I still found Isabella more alluring while she cleaned my home in her uniform and flats. Finally, I sat down on the couch to rest my eyes while Isabella continued to scurry about the home. As I blinked my alcohol clouded eyes, I called out to her for a glass of water. Isabella acknowledged me and came over with the glass. She handed it to me, and I smiled as I thanked her and took a sip. Isabella bobbed her head as she said I was welcome and turned away. As she did, my clouded better judgment failed to stop me from gently caressing her smooth arm. Isabella came to a sudden stop as she looked down into my lustful eyes. There was no escaping my attraction to her. I'm sure that Isabella had known about it all along, but she seemed surprised that I was finally acting on it. I was a bit surprised by my actions myself while I took her by the hand. Her hands were much rougher than mine were as I caressed them. I stood up and basically forced myself onto her. Isabella was genuinely surprised, but she kissed back. I'm not foolish enough to believe that she was not thinking that I was perhaps her best chance to improve her lot in life when she decided to follow my lead. It was not long before I was carrying her up the stairs. We entered the master bedroom, she had cleaned countless times. I placed her down upon the bed and we climbed under the covers as we began to make love. After we finished, a familiar sense of shame came over me for what I had done. I wonder if Isabella realized it because I saw a worried look come across her face. "What's wrong?" I asked as she placed her head on my chest. "I don't understand what a man like you can see in me," she replied. "I see a lot in you because I choose to look." "This wouldn't work." "Why not I asked?" I asked, even though I knew she was right. "We're from two different worlds." "We're two people, that's all we are," I countered, still too drunk to come up with a better worded response. "That's not all there is." "Then what is there?" I asked. I could see her struggling not to point the obvious class dimensions that she was alluding to, which I was implicitly, and implausibly, denying existed. "Men like you don't even look at girls like me," Isabella finally answered. "Men like me don't look at you? I think this kind of shows that I'm not quite the man you think I am," I replied as I pulled her close. She snuggled up against me, but she did not address my statement. After a brief period of silence, she asked, "Have you ever spoken so freely with a maid?" I hesitated before I admitted the truth, "I grew up around maids. I was raised by a wonderful woman named Silvina. She was my mother's maid, and she was everything to me when I was growing up." Isabella shot me a look that basically said, 'Well, that explains a lot.' I smiled at the look as I stroked her side and said, "Silvina was wonderful. She was so sweet and..." Isabella kissed my cheek, bringing an end to my description of the woman I most revered. Isabella then looked me in the eyes and asked, "So where is she now?" "She's gone." "She went back home?" "No. She passed away many years ago in an accident," I answered. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said. "You can't change the past," I replied solemnly. I never have gotten over losing her. It still haunts me, and I'm sure Isabella could tell based on the tone of my response. "Have you even told anyone else about her?" "I think my mother knew how much I loved Silvina, but I've never said it." "So have you've kept it a secret all these years?" "Yes." As she ran her fingers across my stomach, she smiled and said, "I have to ask then. If you shared one secret, maybe you'll share another." "What do you want to know?" I asked as a smile came across my face. "What's in that locked room in the attic?" she inquired. I was surprised that she asked the question. I was not surprised that she knew about it. She had been in the attic before and surely knew that noticed that the door had two locks. Isabella's natural curiosity should not have taken me aback, but I cannot deny that it did. Before I could respond, she filled the silence that had words had created by adding, "The blinds and curtains are always drawn on those two windows. There's never any light or fresh air..." I grimaced for a second before I replied, "It's a secret." As she saw the smile come across my face, she responded, "Well, you told me about why you liked me. For a man like you, is there anything more embarrassing?" I saw the coy smile on her face as I answered, "Liking you could never be embarrassing." She laughed a bit and shook her head while she rolled her eyes and said, "I bet your friends would disagree." I could not contest that assertion, so I replied, "It's just a private matter." Isabella nodded and asked, "Does anyone know?" "No. It wouldn't be private then," I retorted before I smiled to lessen the pithy nature of my response. "So I would be the first?" she asked with a grin. "You would be, but..." "Oh, come on. Let me see it, Frank." I was a bit surprised that Isabella called me Frank. She never called me by my first name, but I suppose that given the events of that day, it would have been absurd to maintain the master servant formalities while we were sharing a bed. I shook my head, deeply embarrassed by the contents of the room as I replied, "I don't want anyone to know." "Oh, come on. It's just me. It won't go beyond me, and if it did, who'd listen. You're Frank Fearnley, and I'm just your maid. Do you think anyone would believe me?" I smiled and thought about her response. It seemed perfectly logical to me. I suppose I was just desperate to finally share the secret I had been harboring for so long with someone else that I was willing to believe it. As the prospect of finally exposing my secret to someone was making me evermore excited, I broke down and told her that I would show her what was in the room. I pulled back the covers and took her by the hand. Both nude, we strolled out of my room, through the upstairs hallway and towards the stairs that led to the attic. I could sense that Isabella was eager to see what was beyond the door as she rushed up the attic stairs before me. I was happy about that, given that her tight, shapely body was far more attractive to look at from behind than mine was. Once I reached the top of the stairs, I followed Isabella towards the door. I stopped to retrieve the keys from the spot that I had hid it in. Isabella seemed to marvel by how well I had hidden them beneath a random, fake floorboard that seamlessly matched the others. I felt a bit uneasy as I approached the door with the keys, ready to show someone else what I had kept hidden at all cost. I turned the key and unlocked the first lock before I turned my attention to the deadbolt. After I unlocked the deadbolt, I paused to think once more about what I was doing. I knew how foolish revealing my secret to Isabella was, but my ever growing desperation to share it with someone got the better of me. As I pushed the door open, I saw Isabella peering over my shoulder, trying to get a good look at the room. She hurried through the doorway and came to a stop as she looked around the simple room once I turned the light on. Isabella's seemed perplexed by the simple, unadorned room. She shook her head as she turned to me and said, "It's so clean." That was not the reaction I had anticipated, but I nodded and said, "I guess." "It's immaculate. It had to be cleaned recently," she replied, as I tried to make sure that I gave her no clues that would tell her that she was right. Isabella walked around and looked at the simple furnishing, which included nothing more than a bed, nightstand and a dresser with an oval shaped vanity mirror above it. The nightstand and dresser were made of chipped wood with Formica tops and were all second hand. Isabella ran her finger across the top of the dresser and detected not a speck of dust. She shook her head at her finding, not understanding how the room was so clean if she was prohibited from entering in it. While flashing me a perplexed look, she said, "What so special about this room?" I realized that Isabella did not seem to understand what the room really was. My heart, which had been racing as she inspected the room, began to slow down as I figured that Isabella was not nearly as clever as I thought. "Nothing, it's just...," I began to respond before she interjected and asked, "Who cleans it?" "Pardon?" "Who cleans this room? It was cleaned within the last few days, if not today. Who did this?" I blushed as I admitted that I had. Isabella shot me a queer look as she shook her head before she replied, "I would have cleaned it if you asked." "I wouldn't want to bother you with it." My response elicited a confused look from Isabella as I knew that my response did not make any sense to her, given that she was my servant. I tried not to address her confusion as I began to believe that her failure to put the pieces together was for the best. "I don't get it. What's so special about this room that you had to keep it secret? It's like a cleaner version of my apartment," Isabella replied before she came to a sudden stop. My heart sank as I knew that she had come to realization. I knew that she had realized that she was standing in a maid's chambers. Her eyes darted towards the partially open closet, where a single dress could be seen. As she walked towards the closet all the fears I ever had about my secret being exposed rose up inside of me. For all my wealth, I was unable to go back and change the past to stop me from opening that door that kept private that which brought me nothing but shame. Isabella pushed the close doors open and stared at the other dresses that had been obscured by the doors. Most of them were maid's uniforms, but a few were simple unadorned dresses. She took one of the cheap uniforms in her hands and looked over it over. I felt horrified knowing that she was probably realizing that it only differed from the one she had been wearing that day in terms of size and cleanliness. Isabella turned away from the dress to ask, "Were these Silvina's?" Before I could manage a reply, Isabella shook her head and said, "They can't be. They'd probably be too big for her." I nodded as I told her that her assessment was right and that my parents had discarded everything of hers after her death. My answer produced a befuddled look on Isabella's face before she moved towards the bed. She pulled away the comforter and stared at the cheap sheets that were pulled over it. "There's wear on these sheets," Isabella said. Her comment told me that she knew the sheets had been used. I promptly lied, "Yes, they used to be on one of my guest beds." Isabella shook her head as she replied, "You never let a guest sleep in sheets this cheap," as she clasped the cotton sheets of the bed in her hand. I didn't know how to respond as Isabella still seemed to not be quite sure about what to make about the room. A smile then suddenly came across her face as she turned to me and said, "This room isn't bad. It's nicer than the apartment I share with the girls. Do you think I can move in?" I stared at her, shocked by her request. "I don't think so. It's..." "Oh, please, Frank. It's so much nicer than my apartment, and I'd be closer to work. I wouldn't even have to pay bus fare to get here anymore. It would really help me out." "I suppose, but," I replied, feeling despondent about the prospect of losing my maid's quarters to my maid. "But what? What do you really use this room for anyway? It's not like you use it." Her statement made me blush as I felt a sense of shame come over me again. Isabella gave me another strange look before I saw her eyes dart to the dresses in the closet that I'm sure she realized fit me. She seemed to sense my unease as she sauntered towards me and took by the hand. She lifted the sheets and comforter that covered the bed and motioned for me to get in. I slipped beneath the covers I had spent so many solitary nights under before she joined me. Her lips pressed against mine as she took far more initiative in bed than she had earlier in the night. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- I awoke the next morning as the room around me grew warm from the sun beating down upon the roof. It was how I awoke most mornings, but Isabella's presence made it unlike any of the thousands of other times I had awaken in that bed in the maid's chambers. I started at Isabella's face for a moment. Her unmade-up face looked dull and weary, while her tanned skin tone looked uneven as I looked down at her. Despite that, I still found her to be attractive as I pulled the covers off me and climbed out of the bed. As I did so, the springs of the cheap bed shifted underneath Isabella, awaking her. She rubbed her eyes and looked at me. I apologized for waking her and told her to get some sleep. "What time is it?" Isabella asked. "It's a little after 8," I replied, looking at the alarm clock that rested on the nightstand beside my side of the bed. "Shit!" Isabella exclaimed. "What?" "I was supposed to start work an hour ago." "You're just working for me, relax. Exceptions can be made," I replied with a smile. "I have to get a move on. This house is so big. It wasn't mean to be cleaned by just one maid." Unsure of what Isabella meant, I found myself being turned on as I immediately fantasized about working beside her. Given our mutual nudity, my excitement was not easily masked. I tried to hide it from her as I turned towards the door and said, "You can sleep a little more if you want." "I would, Frank, but this place won't clean itself. I've got to get started," she replied before adding sheepishly, "Unless you're willing to give me a hand?" I hesitated before I replied as I wanted to, "I don't see the see harm." My response brought an instant smile to her before she laid back down and rolled over in the bed and said, "Well, then put on a dress and get started." I shot Isabella a mortified look in response. Isabella propped herself up with her elbow and gazed at my reaction. As she processed it, she began to laugh. I knew that she had realized the truth and that everything she had only hinted at the night before was true. She must have realized that she had shared a night in Frank the maid's quarters and not Frank Fearnley's maid quarters. As she stopped laughing, she sat up and covered her chest with the comforter while I turned, still standing naked before her. She patted the bed and said, "These sheets are awfully worn." "They're old sheets," I replied with a half truth. Isabella nodded before she got out of the bed. I smiled as I looked at her jiggling breasts as she moved towards me. Her tight rear looked perfect as she hurried past me. I turned and watched her with growing excitement until she came to a stop in front of the closet doors. "Which dress should you wear?" She asked, causing me to blush before she handed me a plain black, cotton dress with white piping on the sleeves and a white collar. I took it from her without saying a word. I didn't put it on. I just stood still, fearful of what Isabella could do with she he had discovered about me. Isabella smirked as she moved towards the dresser. I felt sick to my stomach as I knew what was in the dresser drawers. While she pulled the first drawer open, I clenched my eyes. I heard her laugh as she looked over the collection of undergarments I had built up over the years. None of it was expensive. It was all purchased online from discount retailers. Isabella then pulled open the next drawer and picked up my falsies. She held them up before me with an inquisitive look on her face. "Please stop," I said. My words caught Isabella off guard as the smile that was on her face faded. She shook her head and said, "Why don't you show me what these are for?" I shook my head, deeply embarrassed about Isabella knew about me and what she would think if she saw what I actually looked like en femme. "Oh, come on. I want to see how it looks in you. You know that a woman can't resist a man in uniform." "Not this type of uniform," I replied as my eyes darted to the black dress in my hands. Isabella shook her head again as she replied, "I knew you weren't serious." She began to walk out of the room and I asked, "What does that mean?" "You can't be honest with me. Hell, you can't even be honest with yourself," she answered. I blushed before I asked, "Where are you going?" "I'm going home." "But what about your duties?" "I think we both know you can handle them without me. Perhaps that's for the best. You seem to prefer to be alone." I was stunned by her words. No one had ever been that direct with me other than Silvina. Women who wanted to marry me had conformed themselves to what they thought I wanted them to be. My servants had simply done their duty. Isabella was different, however. She seemed to be treating me as an equal. It seemed so strange and so exciting. I felt a real connection with her, unlike any other woman I had ever been with. I responded, "Please don't go. I'll wear it for you if you like." Isabella came to a stop before she turned and looked over her shoulder at me and asked, "So they're yours." I hesitated as I blushed and admitted, "They're mine." Isabella nodded in response to the fact that I had verbally acknowledged the fact that my erection had already given away. She asked why I had hesitated to admit the truth to her. I told her the truth and apologized for my hesitance. Isabella grinned as I apologized. I realized that no employer had likely ever apologized to her for anything. Isabella thanked me for my honesty before she placed a kiss upon my lips. We embraced and I felt safe with Isabella at that moment. Before I had a chance to dress for her, Isabella took me by the hand and led me down to my master bedroom. We entered and she collected her clothing from the floor. She went to dress, but she threw her hands to the side as she cursed the fact that her clothes were soiled from her labors the day before. She turned to me and said, "I wasn't planning on staying the night." "I wouldn't think you would have," I responded. Isabella continued, "My uniform is too dirty to wear. Why don't you wash it and get a start around here without me." I shrugged and nodded before I looked around and saw a pair of my boxers on the floor. I slipped them on before I picked up the grey pinstriped maid's dress off my floor and reached for her pantyhose and bra. A smirk on Isabella's face caught my attention while I picked up her servants clothing from the floor of the master bedroom. I'm sure she found something entertaining in the peculiarity of the sight. It's not often that the master tends to the servant's desires after all. Without saying a word, I carried the clothing down the stairs to the first floor before I descended the steps to the cellar I rarely ventured into. I walked towards the washing machine and tried to figure out how it worked. Fortunately, there was a diagram under the lid of the top that told me how much detergent to put into the machine. While I placed the detergent into the cup, I heard Isabella coming down the stairs. I turned and saw that she was dressed in the shirt that I had worn the day before. It looked comedically oversized on her, but she was preserving her modesty as best she could. Isabella looked over the detergent in my hand noticed that her dress had yet to be put into the washer. She gently chided me and said that the dress should be put in before the detergent. I smiled and thanked her for her instruction as did not know what I was doing. I put the dress in and added the detergent before I reached for her undergarments. Before I could place them into the washer, Isabella upbraided me for what I was about to do. I was unsure what her complaint was, but she eventually made clear that her undergarments were supposed to be washed by hand. I shrugged as I apologized for my ignorance. This only made Isabella laugh before she said that I was forgiven. I closed the lid to the washer and set it as Isabella instructed before I turned my attention to her undergarments. I listened while Isabella stood over me and told me how to wash her delicates. The strangeness of the moment excited me as I followed my maid's orders and took to cleaning the pantyhose and bra she had sweated in the day before while she cleaned my home. The feeling of the pantyhose in my hand as I rubbed the bottoms of the pantyhose against the cotton crotch as they rested in the warm water that reeked of the detergent I had put into the stopped up sink turned me on. My boxers did little to disclose this fact from Isabella, who seemed to be enjoying the fact that my cleaning up after her was turning me on. I finished cleaning her garments before I hung the bra and pantyhose up to dry as she instructed. As I finished positioning the pantyhose to dry, Isabella turned to me and told me to follow her. The smile on her face seemed inviting, so I hurried behind her until she told me to go up the stairs before her. I complied with her request and began to ascend them. As we reached the top of the stairs, Isabella said, "I never noticed that your whole body was shaved." I knew that she was lying. There was no way that she did notice that the night before, but given the events that transpired since we first made love, her tongue was becoming freer. She then asked, "Why do you shave your body? It's kind of strange." I turned and lied, "It's so I can get an even tan." I don't know why I lied. Given what she already knew the lie was as pathetic as it was ridiculous. I would have been better off just saying I prefer how it feels, which at least would have been partially true. I can only guess that my decision to maintain my secret at all costs had ingrained in me the need to maintain certain lies. Isabella gave me a disbelieving look that made clear that I was not fooling her. There was no way she could have believed what I just said, and I knew it. I apologized once more to her. Isabella nodded in response, as the novelty of having her master apologize to her for once was losing its novelty. A smile then came across Isabella's face as she said, "Well, now that it's all out in the open. I think I'd like to se my junior maid in uniform." I was mildly surprised by her request. I suppose it should not have been that much of a surprise given what she had seen already. After I hemmed and hawed for a bit, my natural urge to dress before the one person who knew my secret overtook me. Once I said that I would do it, Isabella clasped my hand and led me towards the stairs. I hurried behind her, staring at her tight, shapely rear that I could see under the bottom of the men's shirt she was wearing. Once we reached the attic, she went into the maid's quarters and took out a pink dress with white piping and a white collar, ignoring the black dress she had selected for me earlier. "Even I don't have one like this," Isabella said with a laugh. I nodded knowing that I only had purchased grey, blue and black dresses for her, believing that pink dresses were not as functional. After she handed me the dress, she pulled open my dresser drawers and took out my falsies, a plain white cotton bra and a pair of suntan pantyhose. She smiled as she placed them on the dresser top and said, "Get changed." I nodded as I detected a slight authoritarian tone in Isabella's voice that excited me. I didn't dawdle as I took off my boxers and rolled down my suntan tights and quickly unrolled them up my legs. In my haste I caused a run in my pantyhose. I knew better than to put them on so quickly, but Isabella presence while I did so had excited me and clouded my judgment. I went to pull them off and put on another pair, but Isabella stopped me and said, "No. Wear those. There's no reason to ruin another pair. You're not serving today. You're just cleaning, it's not like anyone will notice you." I nodded and thought about the times I had noticed that Isabella was wearing laddered tights around my home as she worked. I never said anything because I knew how little she had. Now, I was in the position of being the one in damaged pantyhose and that was something that both of us seemed to enjoy. I put on my bra next before I slipped the falsies into the cups and further secured them with adhesive. Isabella smiled as she looked over me as she watched her wealthy master dress in the cheap feminine undergarments that I had purchased from Wal- Mart. They were not much different from the ones I had cleaned for her that morning. I blushed at Isabella's smile before I took hold of the dress and placed it on. As I buttoned it up, Isabella took hold of one the grey aprons that were in the bottom dresser drawer. She handed it to me and watched as I tied it around my back. The sight of me in a pink maids dress, laddered pantyhose and an apron proved too ridiculous for her not to laugh at. I blushed furiously as she nearly doubled over at the sight of me. I turned towards the mirror over the vanity and could not deny that I would look ridiculous to anyone that saw me. I also felt that I was not unambiguously masculine though. My long dark hair rested on the shoulders of my dress and my eyebrows were thinned out already. Isabella collected herself and said, "Do you have any makeup?" I nodded and took out my makeup bag from the drawer of my nightstand. Isabella smiled as she watched as I gave myself a little makeover while I added a pale color to my lips and cheap eye dark shadow onto my eyelids. The effect of a little makeup on my face was not lost on Isabella, who started to laugh again as she said, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you actually were the maid." I blushed at her comment, which I took as a compliment. Isabella laughed once more as she realized that I was truly enjoying looking like a maid for her. She grinned and shook her head as she began to run her fingers down the side of my cheap maid's dress. She stared up into my eyes and said, "You know, girl, you're whole wardrobe costs less than one of your master's Brooks Brothers suits." I blushed and nodded, excited about being spoken to as if I was a maid, as Isabella spoke as if Frank Fearnley was not the person standing before her in a maid's uniform. I laughed at her comment as I pulled at the ill fitting dress. Isabella smirked as she said, "It really doesn't flatter your figure. Does it?" "No," I admitted, knowing that the dress was not intended to draw attention. It was a dress that was meant to be ignored. Isabella moved her hands down my sides and lifted up my dress as her hands reached under it to caress my pantyhose. "These pantyhose feel so good don't they?" Isabella asked. I blushed as I nodded, unable to meet her gaze as her fingers brushed my erection that was fighting against the control top of my pantyhose. "These high denier pantyhose are cheap. They make your legs look a bit heavier than they really are. I suppose that it's good that they look like they're adding fifteen pounds to your legs though, since I wouldn't want my maid drawing any attention to her pretty, elegant legs." I blushed and let out a little squeal of delight as she called me her maid. The day before I was her master, and, now, she was calling me her maid. I was in heaven at that moment. She asked if I had a maid's cap. I admitted that I did and took it out from the top of the closet, which was beyond her reach. Isabella had me bow my head as she placed the cap onto my head as if she were crowning me for descending to a throne of servitude. She took a step back and clenched her hands as she let a squeal of delight regarding how I looked. "You look, so pretty, girl. What's your name?" "You know my name," I answered. "No, I mean your name, girl," Isabella replied. I realized that she was referring to the maid standing before her and not the man she had served. I smiled as I gave the name I had given myself for when I cleaned my quarter's en femme, "My name is Eva." "Eva? What a lovely name for a maid," Isabella replied with a grin as she moved closer to me again. Isabella began to run her fingers up and down my sides before she shoved me onto the bed. She jumped on top of me and pressed her lips against mine. As we made out, I could not help but realize that the shirt she was wearing cost more than my entire outfit. The differences between us did not seem lost on Isabella as she took all the initiative and treated me as the submissive partner I had longed to be. Our lips parted and Isabella got up off the bed. I was excited and wanted to let her have her way with me, but Isabella said, "That's enough fun for now. You've got some cleaning to do." "It can wait," I replied. "It can never wait. Mr. Fearnley expects this house to be clean, and I will not have my junior maid failing to meet his expectations." "This Mr. Fearnley seems like a taskmaster," I said with a grin. A coy smile came across Isabella's face as she replied, "He's got nothing on me." "Really?" I asked. "I'm far more observant of your work than he is. So don't think for a minute that you can cut corners like I did." I felt excited as I nodded and got to my feet. As I walked to the closet to get my white canvas shoes, Isabella added, "I'll be helping you just as soon as my clothes are dry." I nodded before Isabella continued, "But first, I think we need breakfast." I nodded as my own churning stomach demanded food at the moment. I followed her down the stairs, looking very much like the maid of the home. We walked into the kitchen, where Isabella took a seat and began to tell me how to make breakfast. I followed her instructions to the letter as she carefully watched over me. Once her breakfast was made, she told me to serve it to her in the dinning room. I nodded and complied with her order as she sat down at my dinning room table for the first time. I stood beside it, ready to serve her as she ate me. She ordered me to get her a cup of coffee as she took a seat. I nodded as I ran to fetch it for her. I made the cup and brought it to her back. Isabella looked at the cup and said, "You should have asked how I like it." "I'm sorry," I replied. "I'll let it slide since this is your first day, but from now on I expect you to ask the question when it's called for." "How will I know when it's called for?" I asked. "You'll figure it out as you go," Isabella replied before she told me that she wanted cream and sugar added to her coffee. I hurried into the kitchen and picked up the sugar container and creamer. I carried them back into the dinning room and added them to her coffee before she took a sip and let me return the sugar and creamer to the kitchen. I then stood to the side of the table as she finished eating. Once she finished, I cleaned her plate and was permitted to eat breakfast in the kitchen on my feet, as I had so often seen her do. I found it strange that I was not permitted to sit at the table to eat, but then again I never let Isabella sit at it in uniform either. It would certainly be odd to be eating at it in a pink dress, so I guessed that Isabella had made the correct determination. After I finished cleaning up after breakfast, I walked into the living room and saw Isabella resting on the couch before the television. I asked what I could do for her, and Isabella told me to get started cleaning the floors. I nodded and decided to start by cleaning the floors of the bathroom. I walked over to where Isabella kept the cleaning supplies and headed towards the first floor bathroom with a scrub brush, bucket and cleaner. I got down on my knees as I began to clean the grout as I saw Isabella do from time to time as I scoured the floor. It was not long before Isabella was entering the room to chide me for my improper technique. There was an air of superiority in her tone as she corrected my form and had me redo the cleaning that I had already done. It seemed so strange to follow her orders, but it was exciting to be on the receiving end of directions for once, in a way that was so similar to what my Silvina had gone through with my mother. Of course, for all of Isabella's efforts, she did not have the haughtiness of my mother who was born with the silver spoon in her mouth. Isabella was only trying to act as if she was that woman. She came off a bit bitchy as I took to cleaning the wood floors of the hallway. I found her tone and critiques, however, were making me aroused, which made my difficult labors seem to go by much faster. Around the time, I finished cleaning the hallway, Isabella's uniform finished drying. She went and placed on her maid's dress over her otherwise nude body and decided to join me as I continued to clean the house. Isabella quickly took to demonstrating the hierarchy in the home as she began to order me around like I was her assistant while she cleaned the home. I followed her direction like the good junior maid I was in my head as we cleaned up the rest of the first floor before we headed to the second floor to clean the bedrooms. As we ascended the staircase, I stared up at Isabella's bare ass that was visible underneath her dress. I wanted to take her right there, but I knew that I had to control my instincts. Isabella lead us into the guest bedrooms first, where we tidied up before we went into the guest room bathrooms and cleaned each one from top to bottom. As we did so, my tasks became clearer to me. While Isabella cleaned the sink and vanity, I scrubbed the toilet. My work never seemed to be good enough for Isabella who would push me out of the way to fix something I cleaned. She then made me take to cleaning the showers and baths while she finished the toilet and began to work on the floors. When I finished with the showers and baths, I joined Isabella on the cold floors as we cleaned on all fours. Isabella never dropped her snooty tone as she judged the quality of my work as we cleaned. My feeble attempts to defend myself were met with derision since Isabella had little use for excuses for poor workmanship. We moved onto the master bedroom, and I picked up my clothes from the floor while Isabella made the bed. Isabella then proceeded to dust the room, while I cleaned the wood floors and vacuumed the area rug that was near the king size bed that had been made custom for me. I smiled at Isabella as she moved about the room. My eyes darted to the bed we had shared the night before and the masterfully carved headboard that had been banging against the wall while we shared a moment of ecstasy. That moment, however, was over. Isabella seemed to have no interest in getting under the covers of the bed she made with me at that moment. I figured that it was because she knew that we still had work to do. As we finished cleaning the master bedroom, Isabella turned to me and asked, "Are you sure that I can move in?" Given the excitement I had felt since the night before, I wasted no time in saying that I would be thrilled if she moved in. To be honest, I could not remember ever wanting anything more. Isabella responded to my eagerness by telling me that we had to get her things from her apartment. I nodded in response before I told her I would go get changed. "Into what?" "My clothes," I replied. "Those are your clothes," Isabella retorted. "I can't wear these out," I responded. "Why not? I do it all the time," Isabella answered. "I'm not like..." "You're more like me than you realize. No one will notice anything strange about you, Eva. You're just a maid now, and maids do not get noticed." I reiterated my hesitance, but Isabella rejected my objections off hand, noting, "You're not the center of attention like Mr. Fearnley, Eva. You're just a part of the background now. No one will notice a maid, no one ever does." Despite my hesitance, I agreed to go out with Isabella as Eva. When I agreed, however, I believed that we would be taking my car. It did not take me long to realize that Isabella was not going to let me off that easy. When she insisted on taking the bus, I asked why. Isabella responded, "Because Mr. Fearnley doesn't let his maids drive his Audi. I've been here a while, and I've never been permitted to drive it. What make you think you're so special?" I blushed as I put my head down. Isabella did all of her errands for me by bus, except for a rare occasion when I needed something quickly and sent her by taxi. I knew that Isabella was right, but that did not mean I was happy to be following her to the bus stop carrying the pocketbook that contained my wallet. I felt a sense of relief as we got out of the view of my neighbors as we entered the bus. We paid our fare and took seats. As the bus pulled away from the stop, I saw an old man talking with another man. Both looked like derelicts as they glanced towards us. I heard the man call us 'spics' who were stealing American jobs as if there were a ton of American girls beating down the doors of the wealthy to spend their time on their knees in uniform. I pretended to not understand English as Isabella rolled her eyes and told me that she had dealt with far worse comments. The men exited a stop later and headed for a pub in that working class area. At that moment, I figured that those red nosed roughnecks had probably lost their licenses after a few too many DUIs. I quickly put them out of mind once they disappeared into the pub. As the bus moved farther away from the affluent areas, the bus grew more crowded as it became standing room only. I smelt the scent of the perspiration of the laborers on the bus with us. It was a powerful stench that Isabella seemed all too familiar with. When we arrived at Isabella's stop, it was a relief to be able to get off that bus. Once we successfully fought our way to the exit, I took a deep breath of the air that was tainted with the stench of the bus's burning diesel. I stared up at the poorly maintained high-rises that had once been part of a middle class area decades earlier before they fled to the suburbs. Isabella tugged on my arm as we started towards her apartment building. The doorway was decorated with chipped and grimy stonework that seemed as if it had once been quite impressive. The wear on the stonework seemed to mirror the decay of the neighborhood and the building that surrounded it. Isabella pushed through the doorway, and we headed up the staircase to her third floor apartment. I noticed the exposed tiles were all cracked, while the carpeting appeared to be soiled and decades old. We made our way up to the third floor and Isabella fiddled with her keys to find the ones to open the three locks on the door. She pushed the door open and said hello to the one roommate who was home at that moment. Isabella explained to her roommate that her boss had decided to give her room and board. The girl looked clearly concerned before Isabella noted that her boss had agreed to send them her part of the rent for three months for putting them out by having her move in so quickly. I nodded, believing that what Isabella was proposing I do for them was quite fair given the circumstances. We then took to collecting Isabella's meager belongings which fit into the two black plastic garbage bags before we headed out of the apartment that Isabella would no longer be calling home. We then descended the stairs and headed back to the bus stop. We boarded the bus and headed back to my home. I felt antsy as we rode back towards it. I realized that the walk back to the home from the bus stop would be slowed by having to haul the heavy bags in our hands. I figured that someone would see us and put two and two together. By the time we reached the door to my home, however, I had no proof that such a thing had occurred. Everyone who could seem to see us just ignored as a pair of anonymous domestics. That was both a relief and somehow freeing to me at the same time. We carried the bags up the stairs and into the maid's quarters that I was not happy about giving up to Isabella, but I was willing to make the change to keep working beside her. We took her clothing out and put it in the closet and dresser where they were mixed with my belongings. Once we finished putting Isabella's stuff away, she looked into the cramped closet and said, "It's ridiculous to share such a tiny space when we have such a large house that's going to waste." I nodded as I replied, "If you would like, I could take my stuff down to the master bedroom. My response was clearly not what Isabella was looking for as she hastily responded, "I don't know about that. I wouldn't want to lose my little junior maid." "You could never lose me," I replied with me. "Why's that?" "Because I'm yours," I answered. Isabella smirked as she nodded and said, "I'm glad to hear you say that." I smiled as I looked into her eyes and hoped that she was serious. She ran her hands through her hair before she said, "I think that if you're so comfortable being mine, then maybe we should play a little game." "What kind of game?" I asked, hoping that whatever it was would end up with us in bed together. "Well, I was always Mr. Fearnley servant, while he was the master, but, now, we're almost equals, right?" "Absolutely," I replied as I gazed down at her face with a smile. "So, I think it would be a little bit more fun, if, just of the some of the time, I was the mistress." The thought of my maid becoming my mistress was something that I accepted with much eagerness. I nodded furiously and said, "That would be a lot of fun." "Yes, role reversal can be loads of fun," Isabella responded. "Of course, it's only temporary," I added, giving myself a way out. "Of course," Isabella replied with a grin before she turned her head slightly and said, "Sometimes, I'll be your mistress, sometimes, you'll be mine, other times we'll share the duties as Senior and Junior maids." I nodded and said, "I can't wait to get started." Isabella replied, "Me neither," before she proceed to flush out a schedule to divide our time between our three roles. We would rotate our roles, but Isabella advised that she was happy to work any parties I had as the servant she was expected to be. I nodded, sure that I would go out of my way not to entertain since I didn't want the country club snobs looking down on the woman I was growing to adore. As per the schedule we agreed to, we finished the day working beside each other as two maids before we shared a shower and the bed in the maid's quarters. The next morning, however, Isabella was scheduled to be the mistress of the manor, while I was to take my place at her foot as her dutiful lady's maid. I awoke to Isabella nudging me, telling me to get her breakfast ready. Remembering how I made it the day before, I slipped out of the bed and into a grey maid's dress, a pair of sheer black pantyhose and my white canvas shoes. I headed down the stairs as Isabella pulled the comforter over her to gain a few more minutes of rest. I then hurried to the kitchen and took to making Isabella's breakfast. I had finished and placed it upon the dinning room table before she came down the stairs in one of the cheap second hand dresses she had. Even though it was second hand, I thought the dress had a sort of thrift store chic quality that I thought wouldn't look all that off on a hipster girl. Of course, Isabella was anything but a hipster girl. She dressed the way she did out of necessity. Isabella sat down at the table and began to eat the breakfast I had made her. She ordered me around a bit until she finished eating. Once I finished cleaning up after her and had my own breakfast, I sought her out for my first assignment. Isabella sighed as she looked at me and tried to come up for something for me to do. "What's wrong, Madam?" I asked, remembering my agreed upon place. Isabella pulled at her second hand dress and looked down at the cheap flats on her feet and said, "It's hard to act like the lady of the manor in clothes this cheap." I nodded, concurring with her statement. I smiled as I said, "I'm sure Mr. Fearnley can arrange for you to get some new clothes." A grin came across her face while she got up and told me to get changed into Mr. Fearnley' clothes. I complied and removed my makeup and took of my dress, bra and falsies. Before I could take off my pantyhose, Isabella walked into the room and said, "Why don't you leave your pantyhose on under your clothes." "I don't know about..." "Eva, just because you're dressed as Mr. Fearnley doesn't mean you are the master of this home. You're still my maid today, and I think keeping your legs in nylons will help you remember that I'm in charge." I blushed, excited by her words. I hurriedly nodded and replied, "Of course, Madam." Isabella smiled at my response before she gently chided me to hurry up. I nodded and put on my suit pants over my nylons. I placed on a shirt, socks and a jacket before I joined Isabella downstairs. Once I reached the base of the staircase, I saw Isabella waiting for me with her pocketbook. After collecting my keys and wallet, I asked, "May I drive Mr. Fearnley's car, Madame?" "I suppose since you're chauffeuring me, that it's acceptable under the circumstances," Isabella replied with a grin. We then headed out to the car. I got into the driver's seat while Isabella took a seat in the backseat. I was going to ask why she did not want to sit up front, but it quickly dawned on me that she was expecting me to act as if I was her driver. So, I kept my mouth shut while I drove her down to the high end retailer where many of the leading ladies of our area were fond of shopping. I caught the look in Isabella's eye as she saw the name come into view. It was a name she had only seen in bags. She had never gone into the store before and, likely, never expected to. Isabella seemed to be in almost disbelief that she would soon have possessions from the store to call her own, just like the many upper class women she had waited on hand and foot over the years without receiving a hint of gratitude. I broke her stupor by asking if she wanted to go inside. Isabella nodded and waited for me to open her door before she got out of the car. We walked towards the door and the sales clerk immediately recognized that I was wearing clothing that had been purchased from the store. It was as obvious to her that Isabella was not, as she was wearing a dress that was easily fifteen years old, if not older. The clerk came over to us, seemingly to confirm that Isabella belonged in the store. I reflexively put my arm around her and said, "My baby needs some new clothes, and I'm not going to skimp out on it for her." The clerk smiled at my response as did Isabella. The clerk may have viewed my relationship with a woman dressed as Isabella was to be a bit strange, but as long as I was there to pay, she could careless about who or what Isabella was or had been. The saleswoman asked Isabella what she wanted. Isabella, not being able to speak much English, turned towards me and practically begged me to answer for her. "She wants a couple of dresses. Right?" Isabella nodded in a calm dignified manner as the salesclerk gave us a perplexed look. I'm sure that she was not used to a man stating what his girlfriend or wife was looking for while she was present. As the salesclerk showed us to the racks that Isabella was to peruse, I saw Isabella struggling to keep from gasping at the prices she saw on some of the dresses. Most of the dresses cost more than she made in a month, before taxes. Even a few of the skirts we passed cost more than her monthly salary. She looked warily at the price of one dress that caught her fancy. I loved the dress and new that it would look great on my mistress. I whispered into her ear, "Don't look at the price tag, Mistress. Mr. Fearnley wants an elegant woman in his manor." Isabella smiled as she took the dress in hand. I looked over the sheer, half sleeves, crewneck, gathered waist, and tiered, sheer hem and knew that she would look like one of the upper crust woman in my country club. I nodded to her and told her that she had to try it on before she took two more dresses and hurried towards the shoe department. The clerk fetched the pair of shoes Isabella pointed to and helped her try them on before Isabella went into the dressing room with the dresses. She came out in each, looking evermore like a woman of high society as I gave her approving nods. Isabella came over to me and said that she was buying all three dresses. I nodded before she selected another couple of pairs of heels. I knew the clerk was on commission, so I could sense that the joy she felt in ringing up such a large purchase was genuine. Whatever contempt she initially felt towards Isabella melted away as my purchasing power made her take to speaking towards Isabella with a sense of respect that I knew was foreign to Isabella. Once I finished paying for the clothing, Isabella pointed towards the intimates section. I smiled at the clerk and said, "I'm sorry to do this, but my lady wants to do a little more shopping. I hope that won't be a bother." Of course not, the clerk replied with a smile while she walked beside Isabella as I carried the bags beside them. The clerk did most of the talking as she tried to sell Isabella on the idea of buying her undergarments from the store, as if she needed any convincing. Isabella quickly selected several pairs of pantyhose and stockings that ran for well over $50.00 a piece and were far different from the 3 for $6.99 pair of L'eggs pantyhose that were encasing my legs. Expensive bra and panty sets soon followed. One bra cost more than my probably ten from Isabella's regular bra collection. I smiled at Isabella's taste for luxury before I paid the bill again. After I finished paying for the clothes, I carried the bags to the car and placed them in the trunk. I then began to drive her home. As we made our way down the street, Isabella looked over to me and said, "I want to go to a salon." "Okay," I replied, not sure when she was intending to go. "I think there's a place where those ladies that attended your parties go that's over here." I nodded and stated the name of the salon she was speaking of. Isabella told me to go there to see if they could take her without an appointment. While I was sure they were booked, I felt as if my role was to serve Isabella, so I complied with her order. We pulled up in front of the salon, and I got out of the car to let her out. I followed her into the salon and asked about scheduling an appointment. The receptionist told us we were in luck given a cancellation. Isabella gave me an eager smile, and we took a seat to wait for Isabella to get her hair done. I was a bit uncomfortable waiting beside her in the salon. I was waiting for some woman to walk in whom I recognized, but, mercifully, that did not materialize. Isabella scurried towards the hair dresser when her name was called. She pointed to a picture in a magazine and nodded as the stylist asked if that was how she wanted her hair done. I watched with interest as Isabella's hair was dyed to an auburn color that accented her tanned skin tone well. The stylist seemed to know how to select a hair color that really did her justice. The stylist then trimmed up her hair into a more layered cut before Isabella was sent over for a mani/pedi. The stylist seemed more than a bit surprised by how rough Isabella's hands were, but she did her best to smoothen out her skin and added extensions to her nails that would have been an impediment to her only a day before. Once the manicurist was done with Isabella, I paid the salon and tipped the girls. Isabella walked carefully behind me, trying not to ruin her nails. I drove her home and carried her things inside. We decided to put them away in the master bedroom, given that they were to be hers when she was playing my mistress. Her turn, however, was supposed to end in an hour, when our roles were supposed to revert back until the next morning. That prospect seemed unfair to Isabella as she looked herself over in the full body mirror in the master bedroom. She pulled herself away from her altered reflection and said that it would be a shame for her not to spend the night as the Madame given how pretty her hair had been done up. I could not disagree, so I agreed to put off the swap back until the following night. I stripped out of my suit and shirt before I placed on the falsies, bra and maid's dress I had worn that morning. As I placed on my apron and maid's cap, Isabella turned to me and asked if I could help her change. Never one to resist the chance to see a woman naked, I jumped at the opportunity. I helped her disrobe before she took out the new undergarments she had bought. As she slipped on her panties, she told me to give the old clothing she had cast aside to good will. I nodded and agreed to do so while she began to put on her black tights that seemed to slim her legs and make them so look alluring. I was transfixed by how good she looked as she removed the cocktail dress she had selected that afternoon from a shopping bag. Isabella placed it on over her head, and I helped her smooth it out over her shapely form while she adjusted her arm through the hole in the one shoulder dress. I was enamored with her as she stood before me in that floral brocade, above the knee dress with a ruched bodice and peplum at hip. Once she slipped her feet into the crystal-encrusted, calf-skin pumps with a 2 ? inch platform and six inch heel, she was on slightly above eye level with me as I stood before her in my simple flats. Isabella turned and stuck out her hip to show me how the dress flattered her shapely form and asked, "How do I look?" "Regal," was all I said in response. It was how I felt. I felt that between her new hair style, color and the expensive clothing Isabella was wearing, she seemed to be every bit the blue blood that I was supposed to be, so long as she kept her mouth shut. "Such a sweet maid," Isabella replied as she moved towards me and placed a kiss upon my lips. As our lips parted, Isabella said, "Now, go get your mistress's dinner ready." "Yes, madam," I said with a smile and submissive bow of the head. Isabella gave me an approving nod before I scurried out of the master bedroom. We then descended the stairs, our transformations complete. She reached the base of the stairs, nearly unrecognizable, looking every bit the Mistress of the manor, while I looked like her simple maid. I hurried into the kitchen, where I maid Isabella's dinner under her direction. She selected some of the finest foods I had in the house for me to make her. When I finished, I served her and was then permitted to eat her leftovers before I had to serve her tea in the great room. As the night came to an end, Isabella ascended the staircase with me in toe. I figured that we were both heading to the maid's quarters, but Isabella entered my bedroom and said, "I'll see you tomorrow, Eva." I gave her a stunned look as she smiled and closed the door to the master bedroom. I heard it lock and knew that she deemed herself above me when she was the mistress. I can't say why I found being treated as below Isabella to be so exciting, but I cannot deny that I did. I walked up the stairs to the attic and headed towards the bed. I climbed into the bed alone, as I had countless times before and fell asleep quickly as my laborers that day had left me weary. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The next morning, I awoke and dressed in another maid's outfit. I headed down the stairs and waited for Isabella to join me. She came down a little past ten in the morning, looking well rested and elegant in the chic day dress she had bought the day before. She smiled at me and told me what she wanted for breakfast. I whipped it up and served her before I had my own breakfast on my feet. Once I finished eating, Isabella called me over to talk before I started to clean the home. Isabella smiled as she told me how the amazing the day before was for her. I agreed with her assessment before she told that she could not wait to do it again. I really did not have much opposition to that, so I had no objections. I even told her that I would be happy to get her some more stuff for her days as Madame Isabella. Isabella grinned as she embraced me and kissed my cheek, genuinely happy about how much I seemed to enjoy being the servant in the relationship after her lifetime of servitude for ingrates. She then said, "Perhaps we could do it for a little bit longer than we planned." "What do you mean?" I asked. "I was thinking that we could do away with the schedule, and we could just swap for a couple of months at a time." "I don't know about that. A day here and there is nothing. No one is really going notice I'm gone down at the club or around here, but the longer I'm Eva, the more likely it is that somebody's going to catch onto us." Isabella nodded as she replied, "Well, perhaps we should go away then." "Away?" "Somewhere far away from everyone you know, where we can be who we want without judgment." The prospect excited me more than I wanted Isabella to know, so I tried to maintain a calm exterior. I'm sure she could see through my attempt as she began to start talking about countries we could go to. It was important for Spanish t