The Orchid The Storyteller
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Yvette's Story free porn video
Chris is not an assertive man, a fact that is illuminated by his
supervisor bullying him into taking an extended break from his job. A
break he did not want to take, but he could not say no to. His wife
Christine is an assertive and self made woman, and she wants Chris to
stand up for himself and fight back. To do this, Christine challenges
her husband Chris to a wrestling match. The loser would be a servant to
the winner during their extended vacation. Chris did not want to fight
his wife, but he did.
Christine won the match, and, over the months that follow, she remolded
Chris. She stripped Chris of his name, his masculinity, his
possessions, his self-respect, and finally his own identity.
She did not do this alone. Chris spent a month being taught how to
behave in a submissive manner and learn how to be a most appropriate
French maid. There were other conspirators who participated in the end
of Chris Johns, including his own cousin and only living relative, Anne.
Christine sent Chris to work as her maid, and she arranged for him to
obtain a new identity, an immigrant worker from France named Yvette.
Anne and his only friend, Aanandidi, tried hard to convince Chris, now
called Yvette, he would be happier if he were involved and eventually
married to a very nice man, Gerald. As Yvette, Chris tried to be a
happy servant, a maid, a woman, but he could not.
Now, after nearly 8 months of his new role, Chris is shocked to find out
just how far his wife was willing to go to erase him. His marriage is
dissolved, and his wife now moving away with her new love interest. His
past job as a college professor is gone. His house is sold. And the
final nail, Chris Johns was declared a missing person presumed dead.
Yvette's Story
Christine had matter of factly just destroyed my world, gave me a kiss
and a hug, and walked out of the room to talk with my boyfriend. My
boyfriend, boyfriend, I am not sure just how interested I am in becoming
romantically involved with Gerald, or any other man for that fact.
Not sure, not sure, what am I thinking. I know I do not want to be
intimately involved with a man. I am a man, I thought. I am a man,
right?
I sat down on the bed and looked across the room at a mirror. The image
staring back at me did not look like a man. The image, my image, looked
like an attractive woman with long dark hair and tastefully done make up
and manicured nails, and as much as I did not want to be, I was proud of
how she looked. This woman, me, was sitting in a very demure and
feminine manner wearing an above the knee length ivory dress and black
cardigan sweater. She was wearing nude stockings, not pantyhose but
stockings, and open toed shoes with a four inch heel.
"I am a man," I said aloud, and put my hand to my mouth. That was not
said by a man. After months and months of practice, I sounded like a
woman, a French woman at that. "I am a man," this time more of a
whisper. I had tried to say it without the accent and failed. I tried
again to sound a man. "I am a man," but I was barely audible this time,
and not very convincing either.
I stood up and gracefully and quite femininely glided, not walked,
across the room. I stopped when I crossed the room turned and walked
back to the bed and sat down. I tried to sit like a man with my legs
apart, foolish, and not terribly comfortable, I thought. I stood up and
walked across the room again; this time concentrating on trying to walk
like a man, even more foolish, and even more uncomfortable. I was
brought out of my thoughts by Christine's voice coming from the living
room, her living room. This is not our house anymore.
"Yvette, honey, Gerald and I were hoping you could whip up a quick snack
while he and I get to know each other," Christine called from the other
room. This was not voiced as a question but more of an order like I was
still her maid. "There is an apron in the pantry, and I still have the
old uniform you used to wear. I would like you to put it on for
Gerald." Again she was giving me an order.
"Bien s?r, Madame Platt," I replied without even thinking, and started
for my old room in the basement. I did this out of habit, without even
thinking.
Did that just actually happen? Am I actually going to put on that
ridiculous uniform, costume really, and serve her? Not five minutes ago
she told me without so much as the slightest hesitation or remorse that
Dr. Chris Johns, college professor, was dead, and Yvette Dubois,
immigrant worker, was all that is left of me. I am proving her point
everyone's point that Chris died a long time ago and now all that's left
is Yvette.
Am I now going to be Yvette permanently? Will I have to marry Gerald to
make sure I am not potentially deported to France, a country I have
never even visited let alone lived in?
I am not her maid, not anymore; I did not even look for the costume. I
walked into the living room where Gerald and Christine where in a
conversation, about me. "I thought she needed the training..." When I
entered the room, they both looked up. A slight frown formed on
Christine's face; it was very subtle, but I saw it.
"Couldn't find the uniform? I am sure it is still in the closet. Would
you like some help?" she asked dismissively; turning her focus back to
Gerald where she picked up where she had left off in the conversation,
"so when she came home..."
"No, I didn't even look," interrupting her in mid sentence. "Christine,
I am not sure if you have even realized that I am not your maid. Not
anymore," I said with as strong a voice as I could muster. My use of
her first name made her take notice. If I am not mistaken, this is only
the second time that I have used her first name to her since just after
Christmas.
"Aren't we the independent girl now, Yvette," she said with more than a
taste of annoyance and sarcasm. Again turning her head towards a
stunned Gerald, "Gerald dear, please excuse us. It seems that I am
going to have to help Yvette," she said as she picked up my purse off
the coffee table approaching me with anger in her eyes. "I am sure you
know your way around a kitchen, you can make us something to eat, and
Yvette should be ready by then to serve us and clean up afterwards."
Gerald got up and headed for the kitchen. Turning her attention back to
me, "what the hell do you think you are doing," she whispered as she
grabbed my arm with her free hand. Walking me towards the basement
stairs, "you are embarrassing me, and you're embarrassing Gerald. What
can you possibly be thinking?"
All of the courage I just felt fell out of me as we walked down the
stairs toward my old room. "Je suis d?sol?, (I am sorry) Madame, je ne
sais pas ce que je pensais (I do not know what I was thinking)," I often
slipped into French when nervous or upset. I repeated my phrases in
English for Christine, because she does not speak French.
"Debbie, I mean, Yvette," she corrected herself, as she and I walked
into the small room, "do not forget your place," she said exacerbated
slamming my purse on the bed. She opened the closet and retrieved my
uniform. Thrusting the uniform hard into my chest, "put this on, and be
quick about it! You will find the black seamed hose in the dresser, and
the shoes are there," she said pointing to the black platform heels in
the closet. She then stepped towards the door; she quickly turned to
face me. "Yvette," she said with her finger in my face, "I don't care
who you think you are or are not. You are my maid no matter where you
are working or living. Now get changed, and when you get upstairs, I
expect an apology for this outburst to both myself and Gerald." She
shut the door and I heard her heels deliberately taking each step while
going up the basement stairs, "just remember what you are!"
"I am a man!" I said to myself as I took off my dress, heels, and hose.
"I am a man?" as I sat down on the edge of the bed, slid the black
nylons up my smooth legs, and straightened the seams. "Am I am man?" as
I stepped into the skimpy dress, and I put my feet into the 5 inch
platform heels. I looked to see if my polished toes were visible
through the peep toe of the shoes. "What are you?" I asked myself as I
touched up my makeup, checked my face one last time in the mirror, and
walked out of the room. (I was not due for a touch up of the permanent
make up I had had done in April for another month or so.) "I am the
maid," I told myself as I walked up the basement stairs. I could not
help think, that I managed the stairs better in my higher heels than
Christine did in hers. Would a man even think that thought, I thought.
"Oh, here she is," Christine told Gerald as I came into the room. "And
isn't she the prettiest maid you have ever seen." Gerald nearly dropped
the tray he had just taken out of the cabinet.
"Wow," was all he could say.
"Merci," I said blushing. And I then gave a quick curtsy and apologized
for my outburst. I was not sure if I was more embarrassed about the
fact that I was dressed the way I was dressed just having curtsied or
that I was dressed the way I was dressed and had just curtsied in front
of Gerald. I could not tell if he had sympathy or lust in his eyes
towards me, probably a combination of both.
I served the two of them not eating myself, and cleaned up the mess left
behind my Gerald. After I had finished cleaning up, I went back into
the living room. Christine was asking Gerald about our dinner plans and
how long were we planning on visiting. Gerald was hoping to see Boston
while we were in Massachusetts, and he admitted to Christine that we did
not have dinner plans but had made a plan on where we would stay
tonight.
"I was not sure how this reunion, of sorts, was going to play out. I
did not make plans for dinner, but I did reserve a room in Springfield."
"You will stay for dinner, and of course you will both stay here
tonight. I would love for you to meet Dave; he is flying in from New
York, and I am picking him up at the airport later tonight," she was
talking more to Gerald than to me, and he agreed to both dinner and
lodging on behalf of both of us. He went out to the car to get the
bags.
While he was outside, Christine apologized for her behavior earlier, "I
know you are not my maid anymore, and I should not have said what I
said."
"But you said it, Christine," and I got that look, "d?sol?, Ms Platt.
If I am not your maid, why am I not allowed to use your first name?"
"I am sorry, Yvette, you may call me Christine."
"Merci."
We stood and just looked at each other for a few moments. I told her
that I would like to get out of the uniform, and went down stairs to put
my other clothes back on. When I came back upstairs, Gerald had already
brought the bags up to the guest room. Christine had showed him where
we would be sleeping.
"You changed," he said when he came down.
"I hope you don't mind," I said looking down at my dress.
"You look beautiful no matter how you are dressed, by love."
"Awe, that is just so sweet," Christine added. "I hate to run out on
you two love birds, but I need to go and get Dave. He charters his
flights from New York to Westover airport. I will only be out about 90
minutes."
"If you don't mind, I would love to take a nap," Gerald asked both to
Christine and me. And we both said yes at the same time. "Care to join
me," he asked taking my hand. I shook my head, and he headed upstairs
alone.
"You make a cute couple."
"I thought you and I made a cute couple."
"Don't go there, Yvette. While I am gone, make yourself comfortable.
mi casa es tu casa."
"That's funny, because it seems to me that it really was mi casa not
that long ago."
She walked over to the counter where she had put the check. She took
the check and put it into my hand. "Here is your portion of our assets
including the house; I am not stealing anything from you," she spit out.
"I would have liked to have been a part of the decision making process,
but I was just the maid. And as the maid, I had no say in matters
pertaining to our finances." I put a strong emphasis on the word our.
"What did I do to make you hate me so much that you would take away my
dignity, and then cast me aside?"
"I am not doing this with you, Yvette, not now not ever," and she
stormed out of the house. I heard her car tear out of the driveway and
down the street.
I looked at the check. It was a large amount, a very large amount. I
did not believe the house to be that valuable, but I did not know how
much she had invested in the five years we were married. I was not sure
if this was a good idea, but I decided to call Anne.
"Yvette, I am not sure I want to do this with you."
"Anne, you are my only family now. Are you going to throw me away too?"
I was starting to tear up, and my voice was cracking. "I am not sure
how much more of this I can take. Was I so bad as a man that I deserved
this? What have I done to make people hate me so much that they want to
destroy who I am as a man? I don't deserve this Anne, I never have. I
did nothing but try to be a good man and a good husband, now what am I?"
"Yvette, I am not going to throw you away. And I don't hate the man
that you were, I just prefer the woman that you have become. Does this
mean you do not want to be my maid anymore?"
I tried to laugh, but started to cry instead. "Is that all that I am to
you? I want to be Chris Johns again; I just want to regain some
assemblance of my life. I am not sure I am able to continue with this
lie anymore. I cannot live like this, I can't. Will you help me?"
"Chris," she was now crying, "I am sorry." There was silence on the
phone for nearly a minute, and then she continued, "I should have seen
what I was doing to you, but I was too caught up in my life to even see
you. I am sorry for my part in creating Yvette, and I would like to try
and make it up to you. What would you like for me to do to help you?"
"Do you know about Christine's money? She gave me, well Yvette, a check
for $500,000. I did not think the house was worth that much. "
"Chris, she had made some very smart investments over the years, and
your books were bringing in more than you realized; you two were valued
at 8 to 10 million. And that is what she told me, who knows how much
more there could be. A half million dollars, she is shorting you a lot.
I can make a few calls to find out more if you would like me to. What
else?"
"If I am to start over, I could use as much money as I can, so if I am
owed more, I would love your help. On that same note can you help me
become Chris Johns again? Christine told me he was declared missing and
presumed dead. Will I get in trouble if I just show up one day? And
will either you or I get into trouble because of Yvette's license? Can
I deposit the check into Yvette's account without getting into trouble?"
"Don't worry about Yvette, I told you before Harold knows people who can
make Yvette disappear as easily as they made her appear. And I will
help you become Chris again. I can even get Chris Yvette's money
without any trouble. I am truly sorry I helped do this to you. I
really thought you liked being a maid. What about Gerald? He really
likes you you know."
"I know, but I am not romantically interested in him. I like him, and I
wish he and I could be friends. But I don't think he is interested in
being a friend to Chris Johns. I will tell him what I am planning on
doing; I am just not sure how or exactly when."
"Chris, good luck, I love you. I will call you in a couple of days when
I have some information for you."
"Thank you, Anne, I love you too."
I was beginning to really not feel so bad that Christine and I were no
longer married, and I was beginning to feel bad about this Dave fellow.
What would she do to him, if he ever failed to live up to her
expectations? I next called Aanandidi, and told her about Christine
declaring me dead, selling the house, getting the marriage dissolved,
and finally the money.
"Yvette, I am sorry to hear about your marriage to Christine, but I told
her before that she had moved on. Be happy with who you are and who you
are with. Gerald will treat you as you should be treated. He told me
so, and I believe him."
I laughed at that. "He told me about your conversation with him. But
Aanandidi I need to know something. Are you my friend, truly my
friend?"
"Yes I am."
"I need your help," I told her that Anne had promised to help me become
Chris Johns again, and I needed a place to stay for a little while. "I
would have money, and I could help with rent and food and..."
"Yvette, or I should start calling you Chris, I will help you. It is
going to be an adjustment, but I will help. If I helped in any way to
make you feel less than a person, I am sorry, and I will do my best to
make it up to you."
"Aanandidi, you are a friend, and I love you so much for that." She and
I talked for a while longer making further plans. I then found a pen
and paper, and I wrote a letter to Gerald. I could not do this in
person just yet. I explained my feelings. I would like to have been
able to be his friend, but I am not sure if there would ever not be
sexual tension.
Christine and Dave came back a little under two hours after she had
left. I was watching tv, when they walked in. Gerald was still
sleeping upstairs. Christine introduced me to Dave telling him that I
was her former housekeeper. I wonder if he knew what else I was.
"I should wake Gerald, so he can meet you too," I said heading upstairs.
Gerald and I came down stairs. Dave and Christine were getting dinner
ready together, and Gerald and I just sat at the table while they
worked, the two of them chatting and the two of us chatting. Dinner was
enjoyable, but just a little awkward. Gerald and I were household
servants while Christine and Dave were corporate executives there was
not very much common interest for us to talk about. We were able to
talk about a book we had all read that was going to be made into a
movie. I decided I was going to spice the conversation up during
dessert.
"So Dave, tell me what do you know about Christine's former husband."
Christine chocked on what she was eating, and Gerald dropped his glass
spilling his wine.
"Yvette, I am not sure this is an appropriate..." Gerald started trying to
dry up his mess. Christine quickly jumped up to get a paper towel or
cloth.
"I was just curious if he knew, that's all. Dave, do you know what
happened to him, or where he is?" I interrupted. Dave was looking a
little confused by not only the question, but the reactions to the
question that both Gerald and Christine had.
"Frankly, I am not entirely sure how this is your business, but
Christine told me the bastard up and left her. Fancied himself a
writer, so he went off to write. He also got himself fired from a
pretty good teaching gig too, I understand."
Christine was back at the table by this point trying to clean up the
mess Gerald had made. "Yvette, I am not sure what this is about, but..."
"Left you," I yelled at Christine, "you told him I left you! You sent
me away!"
Dave was really confused at this. "Christine, what the hell is she
talking about?"
"Nothing! She is talking about nothing," Christine yelled. Gerald did
not know what to say or do by this point. "Yvette, you just outstayed
your welcome. Get your things and get out of my house."
"Your house," I yelled back. "I put down the money so we could buy this
house, do you remember? You were not making much money when we first
got together. But money is not tight anymore for you, is it?"
Christine looked to Dave then to Gerald then back to me. "You wanted to
buy me off with half a million dollars while you made 8 to 10 million in
investments with the money my books made. Dave I would be careful if I
was you, I was once her husband, but I did not live up to the
expectations she had for me as a man. So she remade me. If you
disappoint her, who knows what would happen."
Christine launched herself at me. Hitting and hitting me over and over
again. "Lying Bitch," she kept yelling as she hit me again and again.
Gerald and Dave pulled her off of me. I was bleeding and starting to
bruise, but I was not crying or pleading with her.
"Dave, I am sorry if I ruined you dinner, but I had to tell you. My
name is Chris Johns, and I was married to Christine." And I looked at
Gerald, "and I am sorry to you as well. I cannot be with you. I will
not be living as Yvette very much longer. And even if you are gay and
still want to be with me, I am not gay. I cannot be with you in the way
you want me to. I left a note for you in your suitcase."
Gerald walked upstairs without a single word.
As soon as Gerald let go of Christine to go upstairs, she pulled herself
free from Dave and ran at me again. This time, I hit her. I swung my
fist as fast and as hard as I could and punched her right in the mouth.
She fell to the ground with her mouth bleeding. It hurt my fist easily
as much as it hurt her mouth, but I have never enjoyed pain as much as I
did right that second.
"Christine, I talked with Anne today. I cannot believe you are willing
to cheat me, so who is the lying bitch now? Whatever it is that I did
to make you hate me so much, I'm sorry. But I did not deserve this," I
said with my arms wide showing my dress torn as it was. I heard a horn
from outside. "That must be Aanandidi."
I walked out of the house without anything but my purse with the check
in it. I could hear Dave and Christine fighting as I got into the car.
Aanandidi let Yvette/Chris move in with her, and she helped Yvette
become Chris again. It took months of practicing to learn how to be a
man again, but he did it. He did come away from this experience with a
fetish for woman's clothing. Anne helped retrieve Chris' money as well
as his identity. Yvette did disappear as quickly as she appeared, and
Chris was able to get her money without any issues. Chris started
writing again and his novel about a princess kidnapped and forced to
serve as a servant in her own home was a huge success. There could be a
movie deal in the future.
Gerald was deeply hurt by Yvette rejecting him that night and he would
not talk about it with anyone. He quit working for Anne, and she does
not know where he went.
Aanandidi, with Chris' help, started her own cleaning company. Anne now
uses her services and she could not be happier.
Dave had no idea about what Christine had done to Chris and he did not
want to find out what could happen to him if he pissed her off. He left
her that night, and he let it slip to the board of directors where she
was to become the next CFO about her dark tendencies. Her job offer was
rescinded, but she still had nearly 5 million dollars and a good
business sense. She might be ok.
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