Skivvying - It's A Woman?s Work free porn video

Skivvying - It's a Woman's Work Chapter One I shouldn't have done it. It's always been my downfall, my stupid sense of humor, and when I've had a few drinks, stupid becomes more like insane. We'd enjoyed a decent meal at a restaurant in town. That's me, Ben Richards, and my wife of three years, Sandra. Three years during which she'd tried hard to push me into doing a few chores. Like clearing the dishes at home after dinner, and three years during which I'd managed to avoid any skivvying. That night I'd drunk a bottle of wine, and I'd started on a second bottle, when I saw the open door to the restaurant kitchen. One of the staff was slaving away at a pile of dirty dishes. She wore a long, heavy rubber apron to keep her uniform clean, and she was loading scores of greasy plates, cutlery, and pans into a monster dishwasher. When she was done, she filled a bucket with water and began to scrub the floor, down on her hands and knees. Ten minutes later, she began to use a mop. While she was working, the kitchen manager stood over her, a formidable woman with an angry red face. "I told you to hurry, girl. Finish scrubbing the floor, and then you can start cleaning the kitchen appliances when you're done. Do you understand me, stupid girl?" The reply sounded like, "Yeth, Madam." Satisfied, she walked away and I held back smile. Sandra said, "The poor girl, she has a lisp. It must be difficult to get and hold down a job with a problem like that." I pointed it out to Sandra that anyone could do a menial job like that one. "You know what they say. Skivvying, it's a woman's work." She looked at the kitchen maid, and glared at me. "You're a shit, Ben. That poor girl is working real hard although she must feel awful every time she speaks. You shouldn't sneer at her." I laughed. "Here's the thing, what she's doing, anyone could do it. Even with a speech impediment." Her expression was grim. "You couldn't." I almost split my sides laughing. "I could what she's doing standing on my head. It's just I have more important things to do right now." "Like what? Like finishing off that picture you've been painting for almost a year?" It was like she'd poured a bucket of cold water over me. I was an artist. Kind of. Sandra went out to work, she was a lawyer, and earned the cash that kept us solvent. I was waiting for someone to recognize me as a major talent, so my work would fetch big money. So far, it hadn't happened. Even worse, the painting I'd been working on had stalled. I couldn't get inspiration, and I'd even considered giving it up and starting on something different. "I'll finish it," I told her, raising my voice so that people looked across at us. "If I can't, I'll do something else." "Something different may be what you need. You need something to drive you along, Ben." I gave her a suspicious glance. "Like what?" She nodded in the direction of the girl, who was still mopping the kitchen floor. "Like that. She has a straightforward task to complete, and she's putting the effort into it. She can't think about it for a year, she had to finish." I chuckled. "Babe, I told you, that's easy work. Doesn't need any thought or brainpower, all you have to do is push a mop around and it's done." "Like I said, you couldn't do it, Ben." Why was she winding me up? It was as if she harbored some kind of a grudge. She should enjoy being married to a talented artist. "I can do anything." "Prove it. Maybe if you had a definite purpose in life, a simple project to complete, it would give you the impetus you need to finish the painting." I didn't get it. Maybe I'd drunk more win that I realized. "What are you talking about?" "I'm talking about you doing the same as that girl. Skivvying, domestic cleaning. You could start with some work around the house. Keep it nice while I'm at work." I grimaced. "No way. That's not me." "So it was all bullshit, when you said you could do it. You admit you can't." "It's not that, I just don't want to." Now it was her turn to laugh. "That's an easy let out. Face it; you're not up to it. You're a wimp. A failure." I felt my anger rising. "That's not true." "Like I said then, prove it." I sighed, and some fool impulse clicked in my brain. "Okay, I'll do it." "Like she is, just the same?" I didn't know what she meant, but what the hell. "Yes." "Is that a solemn promise? You'll copy what she does in every way. You'll be a skivvy?" I sighted with exasperation. "Yes." She smiled, which irritated me. "How do I know you'll keep your promise?" "Because I said I would." "You need something to give you an incentive. I have an idea, what about a sexual incentive? That would be good." There was a gleam in her eyes, and it looked promising. I felt a surge of arousal. "Go on." "A chastity belt," I gasped. "You wear a chastity belt, and swear off sex until you've completed, say, a month of skivvying." "A month? Jesus, I thought you meant couple of days would be more than enough." "So you're backing out?" She was watching me with a superior smile, and I reacted. "No! Okay, I'll do it." "Good. I'll go shopping tomorrow, and see what I can find." I wasn't totally against the idea of the chastity device. There was something about the idea. What a thrill, prevented from any kind of sexual relief for a short time. This meant when the device came off, it would be the biggest, most sensational climax known to man. We went home, and I staggered a bit. In the morning, I had a monster hangover, and the last thing on my mind was what we'd discussed the night before. I worked through the day, well, not exactly work. I looked at my painting, thought about it, and then watched a DVD. Sandra arrived home at the usual time, glanced at the mess I'd left in the house, and then pointed to the stairs. "I've got it, darling. Let's get it on you." "You got what?" "The chastity device. Remember last night, your promise?" Something stirred in the back of my mind. "Yeah, but I didn't think you'd go ahead with it." "You thought wrong. Upstairs, get your pants and shorts off, and lie on the bed. It's time to make a start." I did as she'd told me, and lay on my back on the bed, with my shorts pulled down. She opened the box she'd brought with her, and that was the first time I came face to face with my fate. It was horrible, terrifying. I'd imagined a gadget made of soft plastic, maybe rubber, with a simple strap to hold it closed. This was built like a shark cage. Gleaming stainless steel, with a ring to fit around the balls. A steel cage to fit over my cock, and a high security lock to prevent me from escape. "No." She looked at me. "You're going back on your promise, that's a shame. Why don't you try it for me, I can always remove it later." "I don't think so. Jesus, Sandra, look at that thing. It's medieval." "It also cost me a lot of money. Look, just for a short time. Like I said, it can always come off." I lay on the bed, my cock exposed. Sandra was persuading me to indulge in what was after all a bit of bondage, what could be the harm? Besides, I was getting hard. Real hard. Not a bad thing, although she didn't agree. Later, much later, I gave in. She smiled, and it wasn't an altogether pleasant smile. "Okay, that's good, you keeping your word. I'll have to deal with that," she pointed at my erect cock, "Before it'll go over you." "You know what to do," I said with a grin. "Yes, I do. Close your eyes, lover boy." I closed them, and she went to the bathroom. Not a problem, I could wait. She came back, and I kept the eyes tight shut, waiting for the moment of ecstasy. It wasn't ecstasy, it was a shock. Something ice cold and wet draped over my genitals. I flicked open my eyes, and Sandra was standing over me, looking like the cat that's got the cream "I think it should fit now, Ben. I'll give it a try, stay still." "Dammit, what was that you did to me?" "A wet towel to dampen your ardor, that's all." "You could have done the other thing. I was looking forward to a fuck." She didn't reply, but bent down and slipped the metal cage over me. The lock snapped shut with a terrible finality, and she got to her feet, looking down at her handiwork. "There, that was easy. Why don't you stand up and have a look in the mirror." I got to me feet, and immediately, the weight of the awful appendage dragged my balls in a downward direction. When I looked in the mirror, I felt like an extra from a torture movie. It wasn't me. "No, Sandra, absolutely not. Take it off me." "Not yet, remember the rest of it." "What was the rest of it? I forget." "Skivvying, you'll be my domestic cleaner for a little while. When I think you've fulfilled your promise, I'll take it off." "How long will that be? I can't stand wearing this thing for much longer." "It'll be as long as it takes. The next stage is to get you a uniform, like the kitchen maid wore in that restaurant. A dress, as I recall. Also a cap, rubber gloves and boots, and a rubber apron. As soon as I can source the correct garments, you can make a start." "No way, look, this had gone too far. Get me out of this. As for wearing a dress and a rubber apron, it's not going to happen." Her smile was wide. "Too bad, you promised, and I'm holding you to it. I think I'd like to see you doing the chores in rubber gloves and an apron. Yes, I'll see what I can find to suit you." "Forget it. It's not going to happen." Chapter Two I lasted ten days. Ten days of staring at my painting, and all I could think of was the frustration of not being able to touch my cock. Because of the design of the belt, I couldn't even take a piss properly, but had to sit, like a woman. Ugh! The sex was the worst, or the absence of it. It was when she bought a new dildo, and played with it after we went to bed, that I finally broke. She was about to insert it into her vagina, and that should have been my cock, no some artificial length of rubber! "Okay, Okay, you win. I'll wear what you want, and I'll do the cleaning. Just let me out of this." She stared at me for a few moments, and then closed her eyes with a loud sigh. She'd gone ahead and pushed it all the way inside her. She groaned, a long, loud noise, and then opened her eyes. "I'll take it off when I consider you've done what you agreed. In the meantime, if you're feeling frustrated, why don't you join me?" "Join you?" Her eyes looked down to the big rubber cock that stuck out of her. "You know how it goes. Use this to fuck me. I mean," she leered at me. "You're no use to me any other way. Are you, Ben?" I grunted a reply and took hold of the rubber cock. Pushing it in and out of her only served to remind me of what I couldn't have. My own cock was hard, painful, pushing against its steel prison, but it couldn't go any further. She climaxed with a shrill scream of pleasure, and I felt tears of misery pricking at my eyelids. The following day, she took me to the store to try on my 'uniform'. That was when my downward slide became a tumultuous plunge into a deep, dark cavern of despair. It wasn't just any store. It wasn't even a uniform store. She'd found a store that catered to the rubber fetish trade. I tried to reason with her. "Hey, Sandra, this isn't part of the agreement. Not this kind of thing, it's all, well, rubber." She stayed calm. "They sell rubber aprons, my darling." I heard her murmur, "Amongst other things." What other things? She led him inside, and an old-fashioned bell rang. A woman walked into the store from an inner room and smiled. "Sandra, you brought your kitchen maid with you, that's good. Everything's ready, just as we agreed." I gave her a hard stare. Kitchen maid indeed! "I'm her husband, Ma'am, not her maid. This is just for fun, it's not what you think." She was wearing a tight fitting dress, bright red polished latex. Over the dress, she displayed a boned rubber corset, tightly laced around her body. Her feet were encased in spike heels. The image of a dominatrix, and she behaved like a dominatrix. "My name is Miss Stern. You must be Ben Richards." "Yes, that's right. We're here to buy an apron." She smiled. "Of course you are. Sandra and I have at length about a suitable uniform, and it's all ready for you. Step through here, and I'll show you into the changing room." "For an apron? You can bring it out here." "Sandra said you'll be wearing a cleaner's uniform. That means a dress, do you really want to try a dress on in the shop?" Maybe I'd misunderstood, but I gave in, went through the doorway, and found myself in a changing cubicle. Sandra's voice called out. "Ben, take off all your clothes, and pass them to me." "My clothes? What for?" I heard Miss Stern murmuring something to her. When she spoke again, her voice had taken on a hard edge. "Ben, do it now!" Sandra's voice had become hard. "You have two minutes. After that, every minute you keep us waiting, I'll keep you in chastity for another day. Keep us waiting for five minutes, that becomes a week for every minute." I stripped off, and passed my clothes to her through the curtain. "And the shorts." "You're not serious?" "That just cost you a day in chastity." I stripped them off and passed them out. I was stark naked, and getting worried. Then the curtain opened, and the woman was staring at me. At my metal cage. "Oh, very nice, Ben. Very nice. Let me get this on you first." Before I could protest, she dragged a corset over my head and pulled it down over my body. I heard her call out to Sandra to help her with the laces. Then she fastened the first of the hooks and eyes that closed the garment around me. It was tight. Much too tight. "This won't do, Sandra, I never agreed to this. Get it off me." The storeowner slapped me on the face. "Be quiet, this is for your own benefit. Otherwise you won't fit into the dress your wife bought for you." I lost it then. "Hey, this is enough. I'm getting out of here." She faced me then, and her expression became pleasant. "I'm sorry, Ben, perhaps we've been too rough with you. Wait one moment, I'll get something to make it easier." "Make it a bigger dress," I shouted as she disappeared. "I don't need this damn corset." I heard her call back, "Don't worry, Ben, I'll sort it out for you now." I glared at Sandra. "This isn't funny, you and I are going to have words when we get home." Her reply was strange. "Are we?" Miss Stern returned, holding something in her hand, like a bag of some sort. "Turn around, Ben, this will help things along." "I hope so." I waited for them to release me. A second later, everything went dark. I couldn't see, I couldn't breathe, and I struggled to remove what she'd put over my head. I felt a hard rubber appendage push into my mouth, stopping me from speaking, and her voice came into my ear. "Breathe through your nose, you'll be fine. You must keep calm." I did as she said, and sucked air through my nostrils into my tortured lungs. At the same time, I felt her fasten straps around my neck. "I've put you into a bondage hood with a gag, Ben. It's just to keep you calm while we get you dressed. Don't try to struggle, you won't be able to breathe." I didn't struggle, it was all I could do to suck in the precious air through the gag. They laced the corset even tighter, and I felt something pushed into the cups over my chest. They forced me to sit on a stool, and pulled rubber stockings up my legs. I felt them clipped to the suspenders of the corset. One of the women, I couldn't see which, pulled boots onto my rubber stockinged feet, and then they made me stand again. I felt rubber panties being pulled up my legs, and then a flimsy garment over my body. "It's a rubber petticoat, my darling," I heard my wife say. "No self respecting maid would be without her petticoat. Now the gloves, they'll keep your hands soft and smooth while you work." The rubber gloves gripped my arms, past my elbows and almost to my shoulders. "Hold still while we get the dress on you. You'll like this." I didn't like it. I couldn't see it, but I felt it was voluminous and heavy. The worst was when they fastened the neck. It was high and stiff, and forced my chin up high to stop it digging in to the material of the collar. I wanted to protest, this was going too far, but all that came out was, "uumph." "Not long now, Ben, be patient and I'll take that hood of you. We're putting on your apron now, and it looks so pretty." I felt them tying something behind my back, I assumed it was the apron, and then to my horror, they locked shackles onto my wrists. Then the hood came off, and I looked down at my fully clothed body. And gasped. A maid's uniform. Like they wore in Victorian times, yet it was all rubber, from the rubber boots on my feet, to the dress, the gloves, and the apron. I shook my head. "No way, you can get it all off me now." Sandra gave me a sad look. "Bethany, you don't understand." She saw my shocked expression. "Yes, it's Bethany now. We couldn't call you Ben while you're dressed like a girl. You're piling up forfeits with your obstinate attitude, and already you'll be in chastity for the next three months. Now stop moaning and we'll get you finished so I can go home." "Bethany? What's this Bethany nonsense, my name is Ben. I want my clothes," I snarled at her. "Get them for me now." The two women looked at each other. "That's no way for a domestic cleaner to speak to her employer, is it? Would you like me to do something about her terrible behavior?" "Yes, I'd appreciate that." I was still shackled, and had no way of stopping them doing what they wanted. Maybe I should have held back, except my anger wouldn't let me. "Sandra, get me out of this fucking stuff, now! Bring back my fucking clothes." Miss Stern reappeared, with yet another strange looking object. Rubber, of course. I realized that's all they sold in this shop. But it was a kind of collar. I should have understood, but I was too dammed stupid. She wrapped it around my neck, and it covered my mouth and the lower part of my nose. A piece of hard rubber pushed between my teeth, into my mouth, and then she fastened it tight behind my neck. I struggled to suck in air as I heard her explaining how it worked to Sandra. "Bethany is wearing a gag collar, it locks onto the posture collar of her dress. There's a small tube at the front of the mouth obdurator, so she can breathe and take water, but of course, she can't speak. You want me to close the locks so she can't remove it?" I willed her to say no. Anything to spare me this awful thing, but to my astonishment, I heard her say, "Please do." The locks snapped shut, and they bundled me out of the changing room, into the store and in front of a full-length mirror. I could see what they'd made me. A serving maid, a domestic cleaner. A skivvy. And I couldn't protest, couldn't run away, I was trapped. Chapter Three I looked around wildly for some means of escape, for some way out of this nightmare. Imprisoned in a rubber domestic maid's uniform, I was hot and agonized by the tight, sweaty corset. Both women stood back, staring at me like I was a nothing, a nobody. Maybe they were right. I couldn't speak, could free my arms, and couldn't do anything. Where are my clothes? I glanced around searching for where they'd put them, but my wife anticipated what I was doing. "They're not in the store, Bethany. They've gone, and they're somewhere you won't find them." She looked at Miss Stern. "Shall we finish her off?" "Certainly." She looked at me. "Bethany, I need to remove your gag for a few seconds. You must stay silent, or I'll use the bondage hood. What's it to be? Nod if you agree." I nodded. She unlocked and unfastened my collar, and the awful gag came out of my mouth. "Now look Sandra, this has..." "One extra week of chastity." "Has to stop." "Two extra weeks. It goes up in monthly increments next." "You what? Now listen..." "That's one more month." I shut up, and watched in horror as Miss Stern produced a heavy open face rubber hood. She slid it over my head and down my neck. It was hot and terrifying. When she tucked it under the neck of my dress, and refastened and relocked the posture collar and gag in place I almost passed out with terror. "You'll need a cap, of course, this one will do nicely. It's more of a bonnet, but it'll look very pretty on you." The bonnet was a frilly rubber contraption that covered my entire head, like a Victorian parlor maid may have worn. It fitted tight to my head, and Miss Stern fastened the strap beneath my chin. I stood swaying under the layers of rubber while they inspected me, and she nodded with approval. "That's perfect, Sandra. She'll do nicely. Are you certain you want to leave her here for training?" "Oh yes, I'm sure. She won't behave otherwise, I know her too well." "That's fine. A week should be enough, although it could take much longer. I'll have a perfect domestic cleaning maid ready for you when you collect her." I couldn't believe my ears. She was leaving me here, with this crazy storeowner. I shook my head, but the gag prevented me from getting any sound out. Even the process of shaking my head was painful, gripped as it was by the posture collar. All I could do was suck in tiny amounts of air through the small hole in the gag. My wife chuckled. "I can't wait to see what you do with her. Will she need to go out at all, for shopping and so on?" "Of course, she'll do everything a domestic servant would normally do. Cleaning, shopping, general skivvying." "What about the collar and gag? Won't people stare at her?" "You paid for a mackintosh, remember. I'll show you." She went away, and returned with a huge, heavy, black rubber garment. "I'll unfasten your handcuffs, so you can put this on, Bethany. This magnificent raincoat is yours, you're very lucky." She released my wrists, and I massaged them as best I could through the layers of rubber that gripped them. As I sucked in rubber smelling air through the gag, they pulled the mac over me. It fastened with a zip from the calf to the neck, and then a long series of buttons. "The belt and the cuff straps, Bethany," she admonished. "Do them up, and make them good and tight." I did as she told me. The heat inside the layers of rubber was now unbearable. I have to admit, I was very frightened now. It had gone way beyond a joke. Trussed up in layer upon layer of rubber clothes, gagged, and my manhood caged, it was way over the top. I'd assumed she wanted me to skivvy for her, like the girl in the restaurant, but this was much more extreme. When I got home, I'd get out of this lot, and think seriously about revenge. Like a divorce and take her for everything she had. Miss Stern observed me tighten my straps. "Good, that's the way to fasten your mac. Just the hood to finish, Bethany. Let's show your mistress how it works. Pull it up and fasten it." Once again, I did as she told me and dragged the heavy rubber hood over my head. She came forward and put her hands up to the fastenings, explaining it as she went along. "The inner hood ties with a drawstring under the chin, like so." She tied a knot, and I felt it tighten under my chin and enclose my rubber-covered head tightly. "Next, there's a strap to fasten the thicker outer hood under the chin, and the poppers hold it like so..." I felt her fasten the strong rubber strap under my chin. "Last, here's the best part. Sandra, you were worried about your new cleaning maid looking stupid when she goes out shopping. However, once we do this, they won't even see she's wearing it." A high, wide storm collar pulled in front of the lower part of my face. She pulled the long strap around the back of my neck, and fastened it tight. "Even better, she can't remove it, not on her own. So you see, she's ready to begin her duties." Sandra smiled. "That's perfect. Bethany, I'm leaving you here with Miss Stern, you'll work for her for one week at least, and in return, she'll train you in your new career. Have fun, darling, and enjoy your skivvying. I know I will when you come to work in my house." She walked out of the store, and left standing there. At the mercy of the formidable Miss Stern, clad from head to toe in rubber clothing, gagged, and facing a week of terror. I waited to hear my fate, and it came seconds after the door closed. "Now your mistress has left, I want to lay out a few ground rules for you, Bethany. You can't speak, so each time I give you an instruction, you will curtsy. Like this." She bobbed a curtsy. "Now you." I shook my head. That was going too far, but it only amused her. "You're refusing? Very well, Sandra instructed me to give you an extra forfeit when you refused to carry out my orders. One month's chastity each time it happens, so that's what you've just earned for yourself. Curtsy." I shook my head again. "Another month. Keep this up, and you'll be in chastity for a whole year, maybe more." This time, I obeyed. It was difficult, hampered by all the rubber clothing, but she nodded her approval. "That's better. You will also curtsy to your mistress at the correct times, is that clear?" She waited, and I realized what I had to do. I curtsied. "Fine. You'll keep those clothes on for now, even while you sleep, as it's your new uniform. You'll sleep in a chair, you'll find it uncomfortable, but I'm sure you'll manage. I have an apartment over the store, and there's a filthy kitchen waiting for you to practice on. We'll go up there now, and you can make a start. Follow me." We went to the end of the store, she opened a door, and I followed her up a narrow staircase. She opened the door to her apartment, and I went inside. "Take off your mac, Bethany, you won't need to wear it in here." I began to unfasten the multitude of straps, strings, buckles, and fastenings that held me inside its dark, rubber folds. Thankfully, I pulled it off. She indicated a closet, and I hung it on a hanger inside. Wearing the heavy rubber dress, apron, hood, and rubber bonnet, I waited. Sweat poured down my body, and in particular, my hands, trapped inside the long, rubber gloves. "You'll start your training on the kitchen, as I said. Let's take a look and I'll show you what needs to be done." She wasn't joking. It was a miasma of filth, grease, and ingrained grime. She saw my expression and chuckled. "Yes, it is bad. I never clean it, because when I have a new domestic cleaner, it's good training for them." She pointed to a closet door. "In there, you'll find everything you need. A bucket, scrubbing brush, cleaning fluids, and of course, your protective clothing." I looked at her in puzzlement, until she pointed to the garments hanging behind the door of the closet. A pink rubber garment, some kind of coverall or mac, and a pink rubber apron. "You wouldn't want to get your nice new uniform dirty, would you Bethany?" I shook my head the tiny fraction allowed by the collar. "That's right. Put on the coverall, fasten it up, including the hood, and then the apron. That'll keep your new clothes clean. You must remove your rubber maid's bonnet first, and replace it when you've put on your protective clothing." She left me, and I took down the coverall and put it on. It was more of a rubber raincoat, thinner than the heavy mackintosh they'd given me, and it zipped from the hem, which fell to the same length as my long dress, and to the throat. The sleeves had elasticized cuffs that gripped my rubber-covered wrists. When I pulled the hood over my rubber-covered head, it was also elasticized. Trembling with the heat and fatigue of the weight of rubber garments that enslaved me, I pulled on the long apron and fastened it around my waist. Last, I pulled the rubber bonnet back over my rubber-enswathed head and fastened the strap under my chin. Miss Stern reappeared and looked me over. "That's a good girl, Bethany. You'll find rubber gloves in the closet, I know you're wearing gloves, but these are pink. They go with the rest of your protective clothing. Put them on, fill up the bucket with hot soapy water, and you can start on your knees with the scrubbing brush. Let's get you working the way we mean to go on." She left me again. I pulled on the gloves, and with my hands encased in two layers of rubber gloves, I filled the bucket in the sink, found some floor cleaner and poured it in. Holding the scrubbing brush, I went down on my knees and made a start. My heart was thumping, my guts were churning, and yet all I could think of was revenge. Get me out of this nonsense, I want my own clothes back and file for divorce. She came into the kitchen several times, and each time she wasn't satisfied. "Scrub it again, Bethany, it's not good enough. Keep scrubbing, I'll tell you when it's finished." It took hours and hours, and it was almost midnight when she told me to get to my feet. I staggering in all of the unfamiliar layers of rubber, and realized how hungry and thirsty I was. There was only one way to tell her, I pointed to my mouth. "Hungry?" I curtsied." "Thirsty?" I curtsied again. "Hmm, the thing is, you're in training, and it's a very severe training program. I'm afraid there's no question of you eating anything, but I will help you take a drink. Of course, you can't take water without help, all you have is that tiny hole to breathe through your gag. However, I have something special for you." She produced a plastic bottle with a straw, and poked it through the hole in the gag. I stiffened, as I couldn't breathe, but she shouted, "Relax, and take a small drink through the straw. Then I'll pull it out and you can breathe again. We'll do it several times, until I decide you've had enough." I was totally in her power, and I sucked in the water between breaths. She nodded her approval. "That was good, you have the hang of it. I will keep the bottle, and you can have a drink when I decide you need one. As for food, I'm afraid there won't be any for the first three days at least. You'll be too busy to eat anyway," she smiled. "Let me show you where you can sleep." She led me through to the living room and showed me a chair. A hard, wooden upright chair. "You will sleep there, at least for the first three days. After that, it depends on how well you behave." I shook my head, and she smiled. "No, it's not comfortable, I understand. But you'll get used to it." I shook my head again. This wasn't happening to me, it was time to put a stop to it. I may as well have not bothered. "Bethany, Bethany, that's another month of chastity you've earned. You needn't worry, you won't be spending much time on the chair. Your work routine through the night is one hour's rest, and one hour of work. You'll clean this room first, I want everything polished and dusted. Remember, one hour. Then you rest for one hour. I'll leave a timer for you, it'll go off every hour to remind you. When you're done, start back on the kitchen. Clean everything, the cabinets, appliances, and the floor again of course. That should keep you busy. Would you like a drink before I leave you?" I curtsied a reply, and she used the bottle. It left me gasping for air, but at least I had water. She moved toward the door that led to her quarters. "Remember, one hour on, one hour off. I have a camera hidden in the room, if I catch you slacking, you know the punishment. Keep your protective clothing on and get started. Now let me see, was there anything else? Yes, the bathroom." She indicated a door. "It's through there. It won't be easy in all those clothes, but I'm sure you'll manage. Perhaps I should talk to Sandra about catheterizing you, to save a lot of trouble. Good night, Bethany." She left, and I had no choice. I worked, cleaning scrubbing, dusting. It was terrible, hot, perspiring in torrents, and wracked with pain by the difficulty of working enswathed in the mass of garments. The chair offered little relief. By the time I settled on it, and started to doze, the timer went off, and I was back to work. I wondered what she'd meant when she said about catheterizing me. I didn't understand it, but I was certain it was nothing good. My waking moments were dominated by my planning to escape. Until the morning, when I was at my worst, hot beyond belief, exhausted, thirsty, and desperate for a means to get out of this terrible predicament. I would do anything. Then my tormentor made her appearance. Chapter Four . She waited until I curtsied. Then she gave me a small amount of water. While I was still choking and gasping with the effort of taking through my breathing hole, she inspected my work. She came to face me. "It's not good, Bethany. You'll have to do much better, or three days could become two weeks, or months if you don't improve. You must work harder, do you understand?" I curtsied for yes. "Good. Follow me down to the store, it's time to start work. Bring your bucket and scrubbing brush." I'd been working most of the night, but I went to the kitchen, filled bucket with hot water, and followed her. She showed me the floor, which looked as if it hasn't been cleaned in a year. "On your knees and scrub. You'll start by spending your days scrubbing the floor, so I can keep an eye on you. You still have your protective clothing, so make a start." I knelt, and I scrubbed. Hour after hour, sweating in the mass of rubber clothing. From time to time, customers entered the store, but they ignored me. I was the cleaner, why would they both to look? At lunchtime, I was still scrubbing when Sandra entered the shop. I'd never been so pleased to see my wife, yet my pleasure was to be short lived. She greeted me with a smile that had little warmth. "Bethany, how have you been? No, of course, you can't answer me. Are you enjoying your new career?" Miss Stern nudged me, and I curtsied. "Excellent. I came in my lunch break to help you. What next, Miss Stern?" "Upstairs, to the bathroom." She led the way, I followed, and Sandra came behind. In the bathroom, it was like nightmare. Everywhere I could see rubber tubes, metal stands, hoses, and a meter high long examination table. I knew whatever was about to happen, it was nothing good. Both women donned rubber gloves, and Miss Stern barked orders like a drill sergeant. "Lie on the floor, Bethany. Quickly, girl." I did as she told me, too weak to disobey. My wife pulled down my rubber knickers, and told me to bend my knees up to my chest. I obeyed, and then to my horror, felt someone fumbling in my ass, pushing a greasy finger up there. I struggled, but it was like fighting tigress. What happened next shocked me. An implement pushed into my anus, and then I felt warm water flowing into my rear. "It's an enema," Sandra said happily. "You need it to prepare for the next stage." I didn't want a next stage, but I had no choice. The water filled me, and yet it still flowed, until my bowel ached for release. After what seemed like a pain filled eternity, they helped me up and seated me on the toilet. The tube came out, and I emptied everything in a torrent of relief. Stupidly, I appreciate what they'd done. Not knowing what came next. When I'd evacuated more than I'd have dreamed possible, they pulled me up again, and made me lie on my back on the examination table. My knickers were still pulled down, and I shivered, wondering what new torment they had in store. And then, wonder of wonders, Sandra unlocked my chastity cage. I felt overwhelming relief, it was all coming to an end. I sensed my cock spring to attention, and it responded even more when she put her hand over it. "Not yet, dear, not yet. Miss Stern, would you put her ankles in the stirrups, please." "Certainly." They raised my legs, and strapped my ankles into the stainless steel stirrups set into the foot of the table. Unable to move my legs, Miss Stern pulled my wrist back and fastened them to similar steel stirrups at the top of the table. I was immobile, defenseless, with my genital s exposed for all to see. "We're going to catheterize you, Bethany," I heard Sandra say. "It'll make life easier for you, and you'll be able to spend more time skivvying." I looked up, and she was holding a long, thin rubber tube. Which she pushed into my urethra, and kept on pushing until it was deep inside me. When she was satisfied, and I was whimpering in pain, unable to beg her to stop, she used a syringe to pump liquid into part of the tube. She saw me watching. "It's to stop it pulling out, when we need to remove it, we simply let the liquid release, and hey presto, it comes out. The end of the tube goes into a rubber bag attached to your leg. Instead of urinating, the bag fills up through the day and at the end, you just empty it. More time to spend on your chores, dear." I was shaking my head in despair and horror, but worse was to come. They unfastened by ankles and wrists, turned me over, and I heard her say, "Now for the rear end." I shook, trying to break away, but the straps fastened me down. There was a burning sensation as someone pushed a tube into my rear, and I felt it inflating, to lock it inside me. They unfastened me again, and turned me over. Miss Stern pulled the tube from my penis through the chastity cage, and began strapping the rubber bags to my legs. Sandra relocked my cage, and Miss Stern pushed the tubes into place to make sure they were secure. I heard her talking to Sandra. "What's important is to make sure she empties the bags each day. Oh yes, and the liquid she drinks. It'll need to contain a quantity of laxative, to keep her liquid, if you know what I mean." "I know," I heard Sandra reply. "And I appreciate all of this. Will she be ready in a week?" The next words chilled me beyond belief. "I doubt it. She'll need at least two more weeks to scrub floors, it'll break her in as a hard working cleaner. Then there are the rest of her chores, she has a lot to learn. It could take a month, even two or three." My mind was reeling with horror and disbelief. "Whatever you say." She looked down at me. "You can pull your knickers up now, Bethany. I'll come back tomorrow, and see how you're getting on. Enjoy your skivvying." She left, and Miss Stern ordered me back down to the store. "You can keep scrubbing, Bethany. Perhaps next week I'll put you on something else when you've spent the day scrubbing floors. Like cleaning the toilets. Or maybe not, you may need a month before we reach that stage. Scrubbing floors is good training for new cleaners. When you go to your mistress, I want to make certain you have experience of every aspect of your new duties. Perhaps your new life." I starred at her. New life, what was she talking about. I shook my head, although I could only manage a small movement within the constraints of the collar. I saw her smile. "You think I'm not serious, or Sandra isn't serious? Perhaps you think things can't be any worse. Let me show you." She leaned forward, and showed me a small metal device she had in her hand. Some sort of off a tubular key. "This is the key to the breathing tube in your gag, Bethany. I can adjust it, like so." She pushed the key into the tube through which I sucked in the precious air, and turned. I doubled over fighting to breathe, sucking in the air against the increased resistance. "Calm down, Bethany, you have enough air to breathe. Just tiny breaths, and you'll be fine." I sucked hard, and the air entered my lungs, but in such tiny quantities. I was panting in terror as she continued. "I can control your air supply at any time. You may continue your work as you are, so you get used to taking smaller breaths. Scrub the floors, and keep scrubbing, until I tell you to stop. Make sure you work hard, I can always make life more difficult for you. Perhaps I could reduce your air supply a little more. It's good discipline, and will remind you to work hard." I worked hard. During the morning, she adjusted my air supply, so I could breathe a little better, but it was still a tortured sucking in of every breath. At the end of the day when the shop closed, she told me to go upstairs to the bathroom and empty the bags strapped to my legs. She watched my latest humiliation with a broad smile on her face. "Very good, Bethany. Let me tell you about your gag. I can adjust it between values of one and ten. One is the widest aperture, and ten is the smallest. You're currently on two, tomorrow I'll demonstrate how it works when you need some extra motivation." For the rest of the day, I scrubbed the floors. Nothing else, when I finished the floor she directed me to start again. The evening was the same routine, and all night every alternative hour, the timer buzzed, and I was back on my hands and knees, scrubbing. The following morning, after a choking drink of water, I started back cleaning the floor of the store. Until lunchtime, when my wife entered the store. She stood watching me for a few minutes, and Miss Stern joined her. "What do you think? She's making progress." "She is, yes, but one thing worries me. When I get her home, she'll rebel, and try to get me to ease off on her." "You want to make sure she keeps working? From early morning until late evening?" "Oh yes, that would be wonderful." "Let me show you how it works. Bethany, come with me." I followed her, and she instructed me to sit on the hard wooden chair. "Relax, I'm going to adjust your gag to number five." I would have struggled but she quickly inserted the key, and I panicked as most of my air supply was cut off. I could only suck in air with great difficulty. It was impossible to move, my brain would only think about the next sip of air I could drag through the terrible gag. I saw her watching me with interest, as if I was some kind of laboratory experiment. "Yes, it's not easy is it, the number five setting. I want you to stay on the chair, so you can see how far this can go. Sandra, if she misbehaves, this is what you need to do." She turned the key again. My mind did a somersault, she'd cut off all my air, I couldn't breathe, not a bit. My body went rigid, and I fought to tear off the gag. She pushed my hands away, and I heard her shouting close to my ear. "You mustn't panic, you can still breathe a little. Relax, suck in air, and don't try to move. Concentrate on breathing." Eventually I found I could suck in just tiny amounts of air, provided I didn't move. I went rigid, and every sense in my body, every muscle was focused on that miniscule lifeline. "Sandra, she can't work on number one, of course not. She can't do anything, just sit still and breathe. She has just enough air to sustain life, if she's careful. It's a terrible experience, I'm sure, and very frightening, but it'll keep her controlled when she thinks to disobey you. You just turn the key a couple of notches to persuade her to work harder, and all the way to punish her." Through my terror, I could see her smiling. "Yes, I see that. How long can she take it for, on the number ten setting." "As long as you wish. Just remember, she can't move, can't do anything. Just suffer. Then, when you open her breathing tube a little, she'll behave better." Miss Stern inserted the key, and opened the aperture again, and thankfully I could suck in air. I heard Sandra say, "May I try it?" "Of course." My wife turned the key in a savage gesture, and once again my air supply was cut off. I sucked in hard, all my concentration diverted to that single action. Her next words filled me with horror. "You're sure she can stay like that for a long period?" "Yes, she can. What did you have in mind?" "Until I call around tomorrow. Twenty four hours." "She won't be able to work." "That's okay, she can do an extra day with you to make up for lost time. Maybe an extra week." She stared into my tortured eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow, darling. Have a nice time." I had an agonized twenty-four hours. The seconds rolled into minutes, into hours, and I sat on the chair. Unable to move a single muscle, except to suck in the all-important air, breathed in tiny amounts. It was an eternity before I saw my wife's face in front of me, and I knew it had been twenty-four hours. She inserted the key, and opened the airway. All the way to number one, and I could breathe. Even when she ordered me to go down to the store and start scrubbing the floors I was grateful. I could breathe. For five more days I scrubbed, on my hands and knees, before Miss Stern allowed me to begin cleaning the rest of the store. The liquid she fed me now contained some liquid nutrients, and I began to regain a tiny bit of the strength I'd lost during my nightmare. I should have known better but I assumed it was coming to an end when she cuffed my wrists and removed the stiff collar. At last I could breathe normally, and even speak. "Miss Stern, I have to make this clear to you. I won't..." She held up a hand. "No, Bethany, you have it all wrong. You don't speak, not unless I give you permission. You will stay silent, I'm afraid you haven't learned your lesson yet. I think another week in the gag would be appropriate." I felt like sobbing as she fastened it around my mouth, and once again, my breathing was reduced to a tortured pant to suck the precious oxygen into my lungs. "Back on your knees, Bethany. Start scrubbing." The following day, Sandra appeared in the store in her lunch break. "How is she doing?" she asked Miss Stern. "She's improving, but there's a long way to go. I'd hoped to have her ready in another week, but it's not going to happen. I think another month may do it. Perhaps two. If she spends the next month in the gag, under strict discipline, then the second month she can begin her regular duties. Cleaning, shopping, helping me in the store, that kind of thing. After that, she should be ready to go home. Although she does insist on answering back when I remove the gag. We need to work on that." Sandra glanced down at me. "Bethany." I looked up, and she sighed. "No, I spoke to you." I scrambled to my feet and curtseyed. "Good. You'll need a lot more training than I realized, so I'm going to leave you here with Miss Stern for a lot longer. Do as she tells you, and I'll come back in a month to see how you're doing." She glanced at the storeowner. "I can see she still doesn't get it. Don't let up on her, one month of strict discipline sounds appropriate. Keep her on the same regime, and we'll see how she responds. I don't know what to suggest about her impertinence when the gag comes off, and she can't keep it on permanently." "I have an idea that will help, but in the meantime, I'll keep her as she is. See you in a month." "Yes." She glanced at me. "One month, Bethany. Make sure you have and do everything you're told to do." I curtseyed, there was nothing else I could do. To my horror, she turned on her heel and left the store. Leaving me to a month of floor scrubbing in the heavy rubber clothing. Gagged, catheterized and kept in a fog of confusion through lack of sleep and exhausting toil. She had complete control over me, my breathing, drinking, the nutrients she fed me through the tube, even my bodily functions, which drained into the bags. I lost track of time, and everything became a fog-shrouded blur. A continuous nightmare of floor scrubbing, over and over, moving slowly in the mass of heavy rubber clothing. Breathing no more than the little she allowed me. The days rolled by, and the weeks. Even months. I was surprised when I looked up one day and saw my wife staring down at me. Immediately, I climbed to my feet, curtseyed, and waited. "How have you been, Bethany? Do you think you've learned everything Miss Stern haws shown you? How to be obedient, how to scrub floors without complaint?" I curtseyed. She shook her head. "I'm not so sure. We want you to move to the next stage of your training. You'll serve Miss Stern in the store for a month, and carry out all of the duties she would require of a competent assistant, cleaner and maid. The problem we have is the moment we remove the gag, you'll do what you always do, and argue. Which would mean yet another month in the gag, perhaps more. I may even leave you for a week with minimum air, you may find that uncomfortable. Would you like to hear the alternative?" I curtseyed. She smiled. "We've found a simple procedure, that will help you a lot. It'll mean we may not use the gag, not so often. We'll see about that. It's also essential if you're to complete your training. You remember. The skivvy in the restaurant? The girl who has that job is leaving soon, and you'll be able to prove you were right about what you said. Curtsey one for the procedure, or two to spend each night with minimum air. I hope you make the right decision. For your sake. I curtseyed once, and she grinned. "That's settled. You may go upstairs, and sit on your chair. We'll be with you in a moment." I was so dazed by lack of food, sleepless nights, and endless floor scrubbing in the mass of heavy rubber clothing. I didn't stop to think, I just obeyed. When they appeared, Miss Stern carried a box, when she opened it I saw it contained what looked like a first aid kit inside. There were other items concealed beneath packets of dressings. Metal items. I began to feel the start of my misgivings. The two women strapped my wrists and ankles to the chair, so I was immobilized, and a further strap to immobilize my head. Unable to move, I could at least feel relief as the collar came off. I could breathe! "Thank you," I sighed, my voice sounding strange after being gagged to so long. "I do appreciate getting that off. It's a good feeling." That was all I said. Miss Stern pushed a metal implement into my mouth, which cut off speech, and began to turn the adjusting knob at the side. My mouth went wider and wider, and two metal prongs gripped the base of my tongue, holding it immobile. Then she sprayed something cold all over the inside of my mouth. "It's a simple procedure, Bethany. We're going to slit your tongue, which will make your breathing easier through the gag. You'll still be able to talk, don't worry. There may be another unfortunate side effect, it's an old fashioned way they used to deal with scolds. Just relax, this won't take long. I sprayed you with something to deaden the pain, so you won't feel a thing." I tried to resist, shaking my head, to protest, but I was locked down tight. She produced a set of stainless steel cutters, and pushed then into my mouth. She cut, and I felt it like an electric shock going through me. She cut again, and as blood began to pour down the front of my rubber apron. They unfastened my head and pushed it forward, so my blood was flowing down into a bowl, which Sandra held to catch it. Miss Stern pushed wadding into the base of my mouth, and then used the spray again. The pain was terrible, astonishing. "It's all done, Bethany, and we'll leave you there until the bleeding stops. Sandra, place some towels under her chin, and we can leave her while the wound congeals." They left me in pain and misery, and Miss Stern returned in the early evening. She examined the wound. "Yes, it's still bleeding a little. I'll leave you in the chair for a while longer to make sure it heals properly. I think five days should do it, then you can resume your work." Five days! I raged inside at the mutilation to my mouth, and being trapped in this chair, at my life being coerced into virtual slavery by this woman. Aided and abetted by my wife, of all people. After five days of immobility, with not food and a little water each day, my rage had eased. Both women came to release me one lunchtime. Sandra's expression was fierce. "I warn you, Bethany, if you try to misbehave, I'll ask her to cut out the rest of your tongue, so you can't speak at all. Is that clear? No a word, unless it's, Yes, Mistress." I nodded, and they began to remove the metal gag in my mouth. My tongue was still sore, but I could breathe, without the gag. First, they helped me strip off my rubber clothing, and led me into the shower, wearing only my chastity belt and the rubber incontinence bags still strapped to my legs. I stayed silent, not daring to speak. All that mattered was I was free. For a little while. When I emerged from the shower, they began fastening me back into the garments of my servitude. The rubber corset was laced much tighter, and when they'd finished with my undergarments, they pulled my rubber maid's dress over my head. I tied the apron to me, and pulled on the rubber bonnet. All in total silence. Finally, Sandra and Miss Stern looked me over. "You're ready to go back to work, Bethany. Think of today as the start of your new life. You won't need a gag, provided you curb your inclination to talk. When we're satisfied you've progressed well enough, you can put on your mac and go shopping. Do you understand? Don't speak, just curtsey." I obeyed and they smiled. "Excellent. Put on your protective clothing, and you start cleaning the store fittings." I curtseyed and started work, my mind in a turmoil of despair. How could I ever return to normality, after what they'd done to me? What would people think of the cringing creature I'd become? I worked until 3 pm, when Miss Stern told me to stop. "You're going shopping, Bethany. The first outing for you in your new guise. Remove your protective clothing, come with me into the fitting room, and bring your new mac." I walked through the door, and she was waiting to come in behind me. In an expert motion, she locked the collar around my neck, and fastened it to my dress. The dreaded gag filled my mouth, and once again I had to fight for breath. She spun me around. "As this is your first outing, I want to make sure you don't do anything silly, like trying to speak without my permission. You can write down anything you need to communicate. They'll think you're dumb, that's all. Put on the mac, and fasten it up. Everything, both hoods, all of it. The storm collar will cover your gag, so you won't be embarrassed." I buttoned myself into the dark, thick black rubber shrouds of the enveloping mac. When I had the hoods fastened tight, she helped me lock the storm collar in place. She handed me a list and a purse, rubber, of course. "You'll walk to the local market, and pick up the items on this list. I put a pencil and small pad in your mac pocket, if anyone needs you to clarify what you want, you can write it down. Good luck." For the first time in many weeks, I stepped outside. I walked the mile and a half to the market, and almost didn't make it. Trapped and hooded in layer upon layer of rubber, gagged and struggling to draw breath, I had another, serious problem to overcome. The sun. The day was hot, and the country was enjoying a heat wave, except for one citizen. With every step, the sweat poured down inside the rubber, and the heat built up until I felt as if I was inside a wet oven. People stared at the black rubber clad female shuffling along the sidewalk. It took me an hour and a half to reach the store, and almost fainting with heat fatigue and lack of oxygen, I went inside and proceeded to purchase the items on the list. To the amusement of the other shoppers, most if them dressed in shorts and T-shirts. More than once, I heard a comment like, 'she's expecting rain.' A couple of young women laughed, but I ignored them. I had my own problem, like remaining conscious. Fortunately, there was no need to make conversation, so I didn't need to use the pencil and paper. The downside was the number of bags I had to carry back. Had they deliberately chosen the heaviest items in the store? There were ten bags in all, and each one was heavy, crammed to the top with groceries. It took me two hours to walk back, and by now I was superheated inside my mass of rubber. I never thought I'd be relieved to enter that rubber store, but on that day, I was. Miss Stern glanced at me. "Take them upstairs to the apartment, and then come back here." I couldn't curtsey, laden with the bags, and I battled to climb the stairs. When I returned, I was seeing stars, on the verge of passing out. She looked at me, and barked, "Take off your mac, put on your protective clothing. Then get on your knees and scrub the floors. Again." I obeyed, and in spite of my tortured suffering, managed to keep working until she closed the store. Then I walked upstairs, to begin my next duties, cleaning the apartment. First on my hands and knees to scrub yet more floors for endless hours. The rest of the time I spent in general cleaning. At the end of the evening, I slumped in my hard chair, which had become my place of rest. She'd changed her mind a little, and I was allowed to close my eyes for two hours at a time, and then work for one hour. It was an improvement. In the morning, I was back in the store. Scrubbing on my hands and knees. Until lunchtime, when Sandra arrived. I jumped to my feet and curtsied. "I see you're learning to become a good skivvy, Bethany. The floor is at last showing signs of looking clean." I stared back at her, and something in my eyes told her what I was thinking. "Yes, you think if you scrubbed any more you'd wear it away. But you see, it's not how clean the floor is. It's how much you understand what we've taught you. The good news is you're coming to my home right now. You'll work the afternoons, doing my cleaning, and then return here, where you'll continue to stay while your training continues. If this works out well, we'll see about that task we've been preparing you for." I must have looked puzzled, for she said, "In the restaurant, remember? The skivvy, cleaning floors and dishes. Put your mac on, it's time to go to your Mistresses home." I followed her out of the store, where her car was parked. Our car. Or it had been once. I went to climb in, but she stopped me. "No, you're the cleaner, you don't ride in the car, you can walk." It was two miles in the hot sun, burning down on my rubber enswathed body. Even more exhausted, I reached the house. She let me inside, and ordered me on my hands and knees. "Scrub the floors, Bethany. Keep scrubbing until it's time to return to Miss Stern. That's what skivvies do." I endured another month of sweat, pain, and turmoil, before they were satisfied. I was working in the restaurant kitchen, with the heavy rubber apron fastened over my pink rubber hooded overall. Outside the kitchen door, the two women were sitting at a table, close enough to observe my progress. On my hands and knees, I scrubbed the filthy floor, my hands protected by two pairs of rubber gloves. Halfway through the task my new boss, a hard faced woman who was the kitchen manager, towered over me. "I told you to hurry, girl. Finish scrubbing the floors, and then you can start cleaning the kitchen appliances when you're done. Do you understand me, stupid girl?" I looked up at her, tired and soaked in perspiration. "Yeth, Madam." "Say it again, I didn't understand you." "Yeth, Madam." The woman sneered. "Stupid girl, another one with a lisp." Satisfied, she walked away. I heard Sandra said, "The poor girl, she has a speech impediment. It must be difficult to hold down a job with a problem like that." Miss Stern nodded. "That's true, but she's one of the lucky ones. With her employment here, and what she does in your store and at my home, I'm she'll continue to have a very busy and fulfilling life. Sandra smiled. "You're right. She's lucky to have people around her who care. You know, I remember someone once who said skivvying was a woman's work. She was right. Look at her. I kept on scrubbing. After everything they'd done, my starved and exhausted body had lost the will to resist, and my brain understood only what I'd become. I accepted it all. I was a skivvy.