Shoplifter (Part 2 Of 3) free porn video

SHOPLIFTER (Part 2 of 3) By Lisa Lovelace When I awoke, I was lying on a bed in my new maid's uniform. I was in a bedroom decorated in feminine shades of lavender, pink and cream, with lace-trimmed curtains and bedclothes. I recognized the d?cor. I was in Sir and Madam's house again. I heaved a huge sigh of relief. I'd escaped! I was no longer in the place its victims called Pink Prison. I'd been taken there months ago after being caught trying to shoplift ladies' lingerie and a dress from a department store. Security didn't call the cops. Instead, they sedated me. I woke up in a big windowless room with pink walls where two dozen male panty thieves like me, dressed as girls, were forced to work off the price of the clothes we tried to steal. We didn't know where we were or who held us captive. They even changed our names. I used to be Lance Wilcox. Now I was Lisa. Just Lisa. The work was idiotic. Wearing smocks over our dresses and petticoats, we spent six hours a day silently hand-stitching strips of ruffled lace onto the seats of white satin panties. Three strips per panty. Sewing machines would have been vastly faster, but being forced to sew by hand was more humiliating. Each panty we finished was a dollar off our debt to the store. Every mistake we made added a fine to our debt. We spent another three hours a day in Girl School, where we were drilled in feminine deportment, manners and behavior. The longer we took to pay off our debt, the girlier we became. Not just mentally, but physically. I was sure we were being fed hormones. One day, a powerful couple, known to us only as Sir and Madam, toured Pink Prison and inspected all of us girls. They showed interest in me and left. Later, I was taken to Sir and Madam's house, a fabulous Art Nouveau mansion, where I gave Sir a blowjob, let him fuck me in the ass, and then gave Madam multiple orgasms with my tongue. I must have pleased them, because they offered me a job as a maid in their house. I eagerly accepted. I would have agreed to do almost anything to escape from Pink Prison. ~ ~ ~ So now I was here, in the remarkable Art Nouveau house that I hoped would become my new home. I still didn't know where I was, and had no idea who Sir and Madam were - but at least I wasn't stitching panties in silence, and look, I had a window! I got up and looked outside. I guessed it was sometime in the afternoon. It was a dormer window high in the house, and looked out over a huge yard, an acre or more, filled with manicured lawns and gardens and surrounded by a high brick wall. I assumed there was a gate in the wall, probably on the side of the house I couldn't see. I wondered if Sir and Madam would let me go outside. I hadn't been outside in months. I wanted to feel sunlight on my skin. First things first. I was awake. I was dressed in my new uniform. Now what? I tried the door of the room. It was locked. I sat on the bed and took stock of my new surroundings. Could this be my new room? It seemed too fancy for a maid. The bed was a double - I hoped I wouldn't have to share it. There was a sizable chest of drawers and a vanity with a lighted mirror and an upholstered stool. Doors led to an en-suite bathroom in pink and white tile with a shower enclosure and standalone tub - luxury! - and a walk-in closet. I turned on the light in the closet. Hanging from a rack were two more maid's dresses like the one I was wearing, and two more dresses with shorter skirts, one in black satin and one in pink satin. A fairly standard fantasy maid's wardrobe, I thought. The closet also held the other trappings of a maid. Several white cotton aprons, some with bibs and some without, and a white satin hostess apron. Little maid's caps decorated with ruffles, ribbons and lace. Three pairs of shoes on the floor: black patent Mary Janes with two-inch heels, black patent stilettos with four-inch heels, and a pair of pretty white boudoir slippers. There was a garment bag at the back of the closet. I opened it. It was a little girl's dress in my size. It was made of lemon-yellow organdy, with a Peter Pan collar, embroidered flowers on the bodice, a poufy skirt and a sash that tied in back in a big bow. The skirt was very short - barely long enough to cover my panties. The bag also contained a petticoat that matched the dress, a pair of anklets decorated with yellow lace, and some lengths of yellow ribbon. What was this outfit for? Did she want to make me look like a little girl? Why? Was it a punishment dress, like the one I'd had to wear in prison? Someone unlocked the door from the outside. Madam entered and closed the door behind her. "Stand and curtsy when I enter the room," she said. "Yes, Madam." I hurriedly did so. I needed to make and keep this woman happy with me. She sat at my vanity. I remained standing. "Welcome to Dullard House, Lisa," she said. "I will explain your duties and a few rules." "Yes, Madam." Wait a minute. Dullard? Like the store where I was caught? "You will be our housemaid and will do all the household chores. Cooking, cleaning, dusting, the laundry and anything else that needs to be done." "Yes, Madam." "You will obey all orders from Sir or myself. If you get conflicting orders, come to me." "Yes, Madam." "To be clear, these may include engaging in intimate activities, as you did on your first visit, with us or our guests." Guests? I didn't like the sound of that! Still, it beat sewing lace on panties. "Yes, Madam." "You will curtsy when you enter a room where either of us is present. You will curtsy if you speak to us. You will curtsy to us before leaving the room." "Yes, Madam." I curtsied. Evidently I would be doing a lot of curtsying. I didn't mind. It shamed but excited me to curtsy to a superior. "If you disobey an order or execute it improperly, you may be punished. We will not beat you. We use humiliation instead." No spankies? "Yes, Madam." Curtsy. She rose and walked up to me. She fussed with my maid's cap and hair, and retied my apron strings, tighter. "You'll learn to dress more smartly, but he won't notice. Come with me and meet Sir." She led me down the hallway and descended two flights of the magnificent staircase to the ground floor, where a short hallway led to what she told me was Sir's office. She knocked on the door, opened it and led me inside. Sir sat behind a large desk opposite the door. There was a graceful armchair to the side of the desk. Madam sat, leaving me to stand awkwardly in the space before Sir's desk. "Sir." I curtsied. "Lisa," he said. "Welcome to our house. Be a good girl, do as we say, and you will get along very well." "Yes, Sir." Curtsy. "Very well. Madam will instruct you in your duties and our rules. Dismissed." "Sir." I curtsied. Madam led me into the kitchen, and my life as their housemaid began. ~ ~ ~ I was pleased to discover that I didn't need to keep up the whole house. The entire servants' wing, including the 1900 kitchen, had been closed up in a good state of preservation. That explained my luxurious room - it was a guest bedroom, not maid's quarters. We lived in a part of the house that had been carefully modernized without destroying its character, and that was all I needed to keep clean - a couple thousand square feet at most. Which was good, because my new master and mistress - I still didn't know their names - began using me for sex almost immediately. I got used to it. It definitely beat sewing lace onto panties for six hours a day. I was not fond of sucking cock, but I could usually bring Sir to climax quickly, unless he perversely slowed me down to prolong his pleasure. One thing I appreciated about him is that he rarely grabbed my head or hair to face-fuck me. He let me bring him to climax instead, in a way that was less frantic until the very end. I enjoyed the feeling of Sir's penis up my sissy pussy, because he was exactly the right size for me: long enough to reach my love button, slender enough not to hurt too badly going in. He could make me come even with neither of us touching my cock, and my orgasms felt deeper, more profound, and longer-lasting - more like what I imagined a woman's orgasm was like. Cunnilingus with Madam was more of an acquired taste. I didn't mind licking and sucking her clit until she exploded. It was cleaning up the messy aftermath that lessened my enjoyment. Still, it beat sewing ruffled lace onto panties for six hours a day. I would much rather lick Madam once or even twice a day. I expected Madam would ask me to clean her up after Sir sowed his seed inside her, but she didn't. I wondered if Sir was sleeping with her at all. He was making me suck and be fucked daily now, so if he wasn't taking care of his wife, I could see jealousy and trouble ahead. I was powerless to prevent it - or was I? Perhaps my tongue was an adequate substitute for my master's manhood. He could rub the walls of Madam's vagina better than I could, but my tongue owned her clit, and that seemed to be what she preferred. If I could keep them both happy without sex with each other... was that so bad? It certainly made them both more dependent on me. If I could keep them both happy. I heard Madam shouting at Sir behind a closed door one night. "I'll let her suck you off, but I don't want you fucking her - the only person you get to fuck is me!" Madam shouted. "Why is this all of a sudden a problem now?" Sir said. "You were okay with it when..." I couldn't hear the rest. I backed away from the door. This was terrible. The last thing I wanted was to cause discord in their home or have either of them upset with me. They'd taken me away from Pink Prison - presumably they could send me back. The thought made me shudder. I quietly returned to the kitchen and tidied the already tidy counters. That was the last I heard of their argument. They were polite to each other over breakfast. Sir left for wherever he went during the day - an office? - and I was alone with Madam, who worked from home. If I'd been her friend, I would have made her tell me what was wrong, but I was her maid and couldn't think of taking such a liberty. I did my chores as usual, made her lunch, did more chores and, after checking to make sure they would be eating at home, planned a nice dinner. Grilled salmon, saffron rice and haricots saut?ed in olive oil, minced garlic and spices, with a chilled pinot gris. I had my usual salad for dinner, but they let me eat their leftovers, so I usually got to taste whatever I cooked for them. I found that I liked cooking. It was an outlet for my creativity, a way to show them I was more than a mopper of floors, a cleaner of toilets and a provider of orgasms. I still gave Sir a blowjob every morning on our usual schedule, but I noticed he was fucking me only when Madam was out of the house, like a little boy hiding a naughty secret from his mother. Even when he did use me, it was often a quickie that didn't give me enough time to climax. I bitterly reflected that this, in a way, gave me something in common with real women who had inconsiderate or incapable husbands. To my dismay, I found myself resenting both of them - Sir for denying me most of what pleasure I could take from sex, and Madam for making Sir do the denying. I chided myself for it. I was utterly dependent on them now. I needed to serve them as perfectly as possible, with a smile on my pretty face and a bounce in my girly step, and I could not afford to have negative thoughts that might affect my performance as their maid. I tried to stop keeping track of how many days it had been since my last climax. At least Sir and Madam seemed to be getting along better. I heard no more harsh words, and they seemed to be spending more time together. They had long closed-door sessions in their home offices, and I frequently heard Madam's high-pitched laughter. Not long after that, Sir and Madam called me into Madam's office for a talk. "Lisa," Madam said, "we are so happy with you as our maid that we want you to start meeting our friends. We're going to have a dinner party for some of them." "Yes, Madam," I said with a curtsy. "You'll serve, of course. I want you to wear the pink satin uniform in your closet. You'll look so cute in it! This Friday night. Cocktails at seven, dinner at eight." "Yes, Madam. Will they think I'm a real girl?" "I certainly hope so! I'll send you to the salon. Your hair's longer now, and we'll see what they can do with it. You don't need to keep it in pigtails any more. You'll get a massage, makeup and a manicure, too. I want you relaxed, happy and proud of yourself that night. You're going to look so pretty!" "What if they ask me questions about who I am?" "Don't mention the private facility. If you do, I'll send you back there. Tell them the truth: You're a grad student with too much student debt, so you're working for us and just loving it. You do love it here, don't you?" "Yes, Madam." We talked about a menu, and she settled on gazpacho, thick cut pork chops, grilled asparagus, a strawberry, bacon and spinach salad, and chocolate gelato. She said I could buy the gelato instead of making it from scratch. I curtsied and left Madam's office feeling apprehensive. Would their friends accept me as a female, or would they be able to tell I was male? They'd be seeing me up close. The potential for humiliation was high, especially in that silly dress she'd told me to wear. I was afraid of making a stupid mistake, humiliating Sir and Madam in front of their friends, and losing their trust. I was, as always, afraid of being sent back to Pink Prison. Madam took me shopping for ingredients on Thursday, and drove me to the salon on Friday morning. I wore my uniform, but took off my apron and cap. It felt strange to leave the house and do normal things. She reminded me that they could track my rhinestone GPS bracelet on their phones and computers, and that I would be quickly recaptured if I tried to run away. At the salon, an old lady complimented me on my dress and petticoat, saying it was nice to see a young lady so nicely dressed. I blushed and thanked her and curtsied without thinking, which tickled her pink. I ended up with a chic medium bob with bangs. It was undeniably cute and unambiguously feminine. My makeup was perfect, and my glossy red nails matched my lipstick. Back home, I stepped into the pink dress just to see how it all went together. Yuck! All wrong. I was a hot babe masquerading as her little sister. I took off the dress, went into the closet and grabbed the black satin uniform. When I stepped into it, I could tell at once that this was the look. My makeup was perfect against the black. But Madam told me to wear the pink. I decided this was a good opportunity to see how flexible or inflexible Madam was about orders she'd given. I put on the pink dress, adding the shorter petticoat that went with the satin uniforms, picked up the black dress, and found Madam in her office. "Yes, Lisa?" she said. "Here is the pink maid's dress, Madam. It's so lovely, but I'm wondering if my makeup and nails go with it." "Hmm," she said. "I see what you mean. You brought the black satin? Try it on." "Yes, Madam," I said, and hurried to obey the order I'd intended her to give me. She looked me up and down. "Better," she said. "Wear that tonight." "Yes, Madam." Curtsy. Elation. Madam tapped her foot. "The problem is, I told you to wear the pink, and you obviously preferred black. So you decided to challenge me and see if you could make me change my mind. I'm not sure I like that. What decision of mine will you challenge next? Does my maid feel free to challenge any decision I make?" "No, Madam." Deep curtsy. "Then what made you think you could challenge this one, maid?" "When I looked at the pink, Madam, I was afraid I would not represent you as attractively as you deserve to be represented. I was afraid you might have overlooked the black satin in my closet." "You were afraid. Well, I must say that's not a terrible thing for a humble little maid like you to be. I'm tempted to make you wear the pink just to teach you a lesson - but I won't, because the black satin really does look better." "Thank you, Madam." Deep curtsy. Vast relief. "Well, run along and stop wasting time getting dressed. You have chores to do, a table to set, a meal to prepare." "Yes, Madam." Curtsy. Flee to kitchen. Start to breathe again. That was close. I won! But I wasn't about to try it again. I would have to be super-obedient for a while. I kept the black satin dress on and went upstairs to finish getting dressed. I wore my fanciest maid's cap and my satin hostess apron, the smallest, laciest apron I had. With some trepidation, I stepped into my four-inch patent stilettos, the most dangerous shoes I had, and went downstairs to present myself to Madam for inspection. "Oh, my," she said. "Lisa cleans up nicely, doesn't she? Hmm. I wonder." "Yes, madam?" "I'm worried the gentlemen may get frisky with you later in the evening, when their inhibitions are lowered. You are very attractive, and I fear we won't be able to keep their hands off you." I did not reply. "I would like to request, Lisa - request, not order - that you allow them to touch you, as long as they follow these rules. They may not cause you pain. They may touch you through your dress, but they may not touch you under your dress, including your panties. If they try to touch you under your dress, you have my permission to slap their hands away." I thought about this. "What if they try to kiss me, Madam?" "Only on your lips, nowhere else. Don't let them slobber all over you." I wondered how touchy-feely their guests would be. They, too, would probably be powerful people, used to being served and obeyed. I had no idea what they might do to me, nor did I know what Sir and Madam would allow them to do. It would probably be smart for me to go along with whatever they wanted me to do, as long as it wasn't disgusting or dangerous. I hoped they limited themselves to the things Sir and Madam had already done with me. "Yes, Madam," I said. I returned to the kitchen and, to protect my satin uniform from spatters, covered it with a voluminous cooking apron that covered my entire front. I made the gazpacho and salad and put them in the refrigerator. I could pan-cook the chops and asparagus in butter and herbs at the last minute, so I took time to dust the dining room before setting the table as beautifully as I could. When I was done, I put six bottles of the pinot gris in the second refrigerator - of course they had more than one! - to chill. That should be plenty. The doorbell started ringing a minute later, and for a time I was kept busy welcoming guests to Madam's party. I curtsied to all of them, and I think they all accepted me as female. I recognized a few of them from before I was sent to Pink Prison, but I won't mention names here - they have lawyers, and I don't. The first guests to arrive were a well-known TV news anchor, tall and handsome in a bespoke suit, with perfect hair and a blonde clinging to his arm. He gave me the once-over and said "Ooh la la!" The blonde, who wore a gorgeous LBD but not a wedding ring, shot him a dirty look. The next guests were a massively popular female singer, who was my size, and a well-known athlete, who was a foot taller than me. She wore a sequined gold miniskirt, while he wore a crisp white dress shirt with no tie under a charcoal gray suit. They ogled me and exchanged a smile with each other. I didn't recognize the last couple. He was wearing jeans and a black t- shirt under a perfectly tailored sports jacket, so I guessed he might be a tech executive. His wife wore black leather pants and a black satin corset under a lipstick-red bolero jacket. "Well, look at you!" she said. While Sir and Madam greeted their guests in the living room, I hurried into the kitchen to pour wine for the guests. I'd already set up a tray with eight glasses. I poured an Oregon pinot noir in four of them, and a Yakima Valley sauvignon blanc in the other four. I made myself a bet that the men would all take red wine and the women would all take white wine, and that is exactly what happened. I smiled inside and made a mental note to pay myself the million dollars I'd won. I remained in the kitchen for the bulk of the cocktail hour, briefly circulating twice more to refill empty glasses. I served the gazpacho, to give guests a colorful sight when they entered the dining room, and began heating up a cast-iron pan to saut? the thick pork chops and asparagus in butter and spices. I had no problems while serving those courses or the strawberry, bacon and spinach salad and the chocolate gelato that followed. The guests were going through the wine at a rapid rate. They probably all had drivers sitting in their cars eating fast food. I would have liked to cook for the drivers instead of the rich people around the table, but the world was the way it was, and I was still grateful not to be silently sewing strips of lace onto white satin panties. I cleared the table. As I did, the TV anchor ran his hand over my butt, and the athlete toyed with one of my breasts. Neither of them put a hand under my clothes, so, remembering Madam's rules, I didn't try to stop them. In fact, I found myself halfway enjoying their touch, and wriggled slightly in response. It took me several trips to remove all the china and silver and crystal. On my second trip, the tech guy's wife grabbed my crotch through my skirt. I jumped in surprise, but then let her feel me up. As I retreated into the kitchen, I wondered what made them think they could grope me that way, especially in someone else's house. Was I so delectable that they couldn't help themselves? I didn't think so. Did they treat all their servants and staff this way? Not a smart way to run a business. Or had Sir or Madam told them that I was fair game, or hinted as much? I made coffee and took two trays into the living room, where Sir, Madam and their guests adjourned after dinner. One tray held a coffee service, and the other held bottles of port and sherry and the appropriate glasses. Curtsying to the group, I said, "Will there be anything else, Madam?" "Yes, Lisa," Madam said. "Come with me." She took me to her office. "Here is what will happen next. You are going to show off your talents for our guests by giving orgasms to my husband and me." "What?" I said. "Sex with you in the living room, in front of strangers? Please, no!" "They're not strangers, they're our friends," she said. "They're very liberal and open-minded, and won't think any less of you for giving us pleasure. We told them they would see something that might interest them tonight, and this is it." "Do I have to have sex with them, too?" I said. I felt overwhelmed. It was too much. My lip trembled. "Not tonight," she said. "Maybe later, if they like you." "Is there any way I can avoid this, Madam? I'm willing to serve you and Sir, that's my job, but six other people? Some of them are famous! I don't want to get caught up in -" "All of them are famous in their fields," she said. "If you give them what they want, they might give you what you want. What do you want, Lisa?" "Not to have to do this!" I said. "I'll feel like a whore." "You are not a whore!" she said. "You are our beautiful maid. So beautiful that you are in demand as a courtesan. Bend over. I'll lube you so Sir doesn't hurt you going in." I bent over, holding on to her desk as she inserted a plastic bottle in my anus and squeezed. I could feel the lube inside. "What's going to happen?" "You'll give Sir a blowjob. Then, while he recovers, which won't take long, you'll lick me to an orgasm or three. When he's ready, he'll fuck your sissy pussy until he comes, and hopefully you'll come, too." "Oh, my! Do I need to take my clothes off?" "Only your panties." I pulled them down to my ankles and stepped out of them. She dragged me into the living room. The sofas had been pulled back to face a recliner set in front of the fireplace. "Ah, here they are," said Sir, standing by the recliner. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce you to Lisa, whom we discovered working in one of our facilities. She is an experienced housemaid and, as you just saw, an excellent cook." "Hear, hear," said the TV anchor, to mild applause for me. I blushed and curtsied. "Lisa is talented in other ways that we will demonstrate now," Sir said. He sat in the recliner and drew it up to normal height. He caught my eye and pointed at the floor in front of him. I decided I might as well do a good job of it. I stood in front of him. "Sir," I said, and dropped into a curtsy, and kept going down until I was on my knees in front of him. I reached for his trousers and pulled out his genitalia. I kissed it and licked it and stroked it and sucked it, and in short order received my usual reward. I swallowed, stood, and curtsied again. "Thank you, Sir." The guests applauded. I stepped back so Sir could rise from the chair. He tucked away his tool, and Madam took his place. She leaned back in the chair. I hadn't noticed earlier, but was grateful to see the skirt of her chiffon dress was full enough to allow easy access. "Madam." I curtsied to her and knelt between her thighs. She slowly raised her skirt until I could see her labia. She wasn't wearing panties, either. I leaned forward and gave her clitoris a gentle lick. "Ooh," she said, and wiggled. I leaned closer and started licking and sucking on her clit. Her excitement mounted, and it wasn't long until she shrieked and came for the first time. I waited a few moments for her to recover. While I waited, I heard Sir unzip his trousers and step up behind me. I rose from my knees, staying bent over to service Madam's clit, and wiggled my butt at him. I felt a trickle of lube drip from my hole. My master lifted my skirts and began to enter me. He seemed fully erect. I wondered if any of the other men in the room could recover as quickly as he did. He slid inside, and I was grateful once again that his cock was long and slender, able to reach my pleasure spot without tearing me apart. Oh! Ahh! There - yes! There! I resumed licking and sucking Madam's joy button. She quickly mounted to her second orgasm, moaning with pleasure and finally shaking like a leaf in the breeze. I stopped to let her recover. Sir pounded away behind me, and my excitement rose, as did the unfeminine organ between my legs. I started working on Madam's third orgasm. We were all panting now, with Sir's shaft rubbing against my special spot, and me sucking and slurping on Madam's even more special spot, until finally we all climaxed at the same moment. Sir shot his load deep inside me. I screamed and came without touching my cock. Madam bucked and ground against my mouth. The guests whooped and whistled and applauded as we subsided. We separated ourselves and stood. Sir tucked himself back into his trousers. Madam and I lowered our skirts. "Ladies and gentlemen," Sir said, "I give you Lisa." Another round of applause. I made a low curtsy, staying down until they stopped clapping. "Is it possible to arrange to have Lisa give my house a good cleaning?" said the TV anchor. Sir looked to Madam. "Yes," she said. "Of course I need her here, but I could part with her for one day a week - shall we say Monday? - so that she can clean house for each of you in turn." "In that uniform?" he said. "No, she'll wear her regular day uniform," Madam said. I could have kissed her for that, but it would have been a liberty. "It's more practical. After all, I expect she will spend most of her time actually cleaning." "Will she be prepared to do... uh... very deep cleaning?" said the famous athlete, whose name you would know in a second. "As deep as you can go," Madam said, and everyone but me laughed. "And she'll tend to your lady, too." The tech dude's wife - wedding ring! - spoke up for the first time. "Are there other activities we can engage in with Miss Lisa? Does she like being spanked?" Madam turned to me. "Do you?" I was on the spot. This was so embarrassing. "I don't mind a spank or two, ma'am," I said. "Not too hard, but not too soft. I don't like being spanked hard enough to make me cry." "Do you like being tied up, Lisa?" she asked. "I've never been," I said. "I don't think I'd like it." "You're plain vanilla," she said. I don't know how I remained outwardly calm. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted out. I didn't ask for this! With no warning, my life had just changed. I would now be a whore one day a week. I didn't know if people would actually pay for my services, but my master and mistress would be making me available to other people for sex. I stood in front of them, feeling Sir's semen leaking out of my sissy pussy, tasting their intimate juices in my mouth, keenly aware I had no panties on. I felt a wet spot on my slip. I was completely abased, utterly humiliated, worthless. I could take some small pride in performing well as a maid, but how could I possibly take pride in being fucked in front of strangers? Even if they applauded me. I had hoped I might become - well, not their friend, since I was a nobody, but someone they cared about, someone whose feelings mattered to them. A beloved servant, not a sex toy they would hand out like party favors. I knew I owed them my gratitude, but my feelings were hurt. Madam told me I could go and put on my panties. As I fled to her office, I heard the guests start to talk about me. When I returned, they were getting up to go. As they filed out the door, I curtsied to each of them. The tech dude reached out and toyed with my left breast, smiling, but didn't touch my nipple. Some of the others praised me for the dinner or the exhibition afterwards or both. The last person out, the tech wife, kissed me on the lips. The door closed. I was upset. I was struggling to control my voice. "Madam, couldn't you have warned me about this earlier?" Madam gave me a look and said, "Why? You didn't need to know." "But, Madam, I'm not comfortable being lent to other people for sex!" "Don't give me that attitude, Miss Maid! When you came here, I specifically told you that you would be expected to engage in intimate activities with us or our guests." I tried to remember. Yes, she did say that. Abashed, I fell silent. "After all, you may find the duty pleasant," Madam said. "A different house to clean, and they'll all be nice houses. You don't seem to mind having sex with us, which frankly surprises me a little, and I doubt they'll want more than what we showed them." "Except for Ms. Leather Pants," Sir said. "Yes," said Madam. "Lisa, you control how much pain is OK. You like a sharp spank or two, that's fine. You don't like being beaten. If anyone hurts you more than you want to be hurt, tell them to stop, and if they don't, tell them you're going to report them to me. If it happens twice, you'll never see them again." "Thank you, Madam," I said. I wanted to cry in gratitude, but I was not allowing myself to cry. I was actually feeling numb. Too much had happened today. "Could I please just go to bed?" "Beauty regimen first," Madam said. ~ ~ ~ So I did it. The next Monday, I cleaned house for the famous athlete and his equally famous wife. He was quite generously endowed, and I could not take in as much of him as he wanted. He climaxed satisfactorily, but I was not proud of my performance. I apologized abjectly and promised him I would practice and be better next time. He smiled, ruffled my hair and said I did good. I took pains to please his wife as well as I could. I ached pretty badly afterwards, but there was no blood, so Madam declared it a success. The following Monday, I cleaned house for Mr. TV. He lived in a downtown condo in which his blonde did not appear to be in residence. The place was a typical bachelor pigsty. The bathroom and kitchen were particularly appalling. I excavated a burial mound's worth of dirty clothes and started the laundry. He got dressed in this mess and then appeared on the news? Eww. Making his place fit for habitation would be a multi-week project. A week later, I cleaned the tech couple's house. It was already clean. I reported to the wife, who smiled, took my hand and drew me into her bedroom. I spent much of the day pleasing her in every way I could. We played one game where she gave me a swat every time we passed in a hallway. I would shriek and try to run away in my heels, and she would catch me and swat me again. In the afternoon, she lubed me up and handed me over to Mr. T-Shirt Dude. Like all the other men, he had me blow him first, and then he plunged into my rear passage. His dick was not unlike Sir's, and I came just before he did. Ms. Tech came up behind me in the kitchen later and ran her hands over my body, from shoulders to crotch. I stiffened at first, then relaxed. It felt good. "You've never been tied up?" she said. "No," I said, suddenly afraid. "Would you like to try it? Would you let me?" "No, thank you, ma'am," I said. "If I'm tied up, I won't be able to clean your house. What if I just licked you again?" "Go for it, girl!" I did. Like all the other women I'd served, her clitoris was her most sensitive part, and licking and sucking on it produced the usual effect, except that she went berserk when she had an orgasm. She hooked her feet behind me, scratched my back with her enameled talons, howled in whatever her native language was, and nearly crushed my head between her thighs. I was able to give her the usual three orgasms, after which she uttered a huge sigh and fell asleep. I found her husband downstairs and reported to him. He was pleasantly surprised to hear she was sleeping - apparently she'd been having insomnia. He took me in hand and emptied himself down my throat, then drove me home. This three-week rotation continued for a month, and then things changed again. Sir and Madam offered my services to more of their friends, and now I was working outside the home for two days a week. And then three days a week. For people I didn't know. Why were my master and mistress doing this? Were they being paid? I couldn't imagine they needed the cash. If money was involved, I certainly wasn't getting any. It expanded to four days a week, and at this point I began to lose it. I couldn't stand it any longer. I couldn't keep up with everything I needed to do. I hated, hated, hated being lent out to people I barely knew or didn't know at all. Not all of them were as nice as the first three couples I served. I assumed money was changing hands, because otherwise why would Sir and Madam do this? I was a whore now. The only good thing about it was that I didn't have to walk the streets to get customers. Which was worse: being pimped out to strangers, or sewing strips of lace on panties? I wasn't sure. I started thinking about how I could escape. Could I climb the wall that surrounded the estate? Probably not in my dress, petticoats and heels. I couldn't steal Sir's clothes, as they were far too large for me. I could steal Madam's clothes, but her trousers would be too long, her dresses were mostly tight and would be more confining than my uniform, and her shoes were just as impractical as mine. Dig a tunnel under the wall? Not in my maid's dress and heels - I'd get filthy, my nails would be ruined, and Madam would notice. I doubted I could finish it in one night, even if I could get my hands on a shovel. I just wasn't built for manual labor. Could I escape while cleaning at a customer's house? Why not? I wasn't fettered or restrained. Just slip out the front door and disappear. Of course, I would be walking the streets in a maid's uniform and heels, which might draw unwanted attention, but I just needed to find someone who was willing to help me. Crap! I forgot about my rhinestone GPS bracelet. I wondered if I could cut it off my wrist. I would have to try, or give up. One day while both of them were out, I snuck into the garage and found a small pair of tin snips that would do, unless the bracelet was made of titanium or something similar. I hid the tin snips under my mattress. I made my plan. Tin snips in my purse when I work at someone's house. If a good opportunity presented itself, try to cut off my GPS bracelet. If I succeed, walk out without being noticed. Quickly get out of sight from the house. Head for the most developed area nearby and tell people I'd escaped from kidnappers and needed help - which was true. I'd probably end up in the hands of the police. I just had to hope I was somewhere where the cops were reasonably well-behaved. Two nights later, I was taken to the house of the tech couple, whom I now knew as Mr. White and Ms. East. They liked having sex at the beginning of my shift, so I accommodated them before starting a load of laundry and doing the breakfast dishes. They both headed upstairs, where I imagined they would spend most of the day staring at screens. This might be the perfect time to make my break. I knew by now that while their property was fenced and gated, there was a button outside the garage that opened the gate, so that the staff could take out the trash and recycling, or fetch the mail. I got the tin snips out of my purse and tried to cut off my GPS bracelet. It snapped, and I removed it. I stripped off my maid's cap and apron and stuffed them in the clothes hamper, so that I'd look like a normal woman instead of a maid. I tossed in the bracelet and tin snips, too. I opened the front door, afraid that it would trigger an alarm, but if it did, it was silent. They had a high-tech doorbell that was probably shooting video of me, but I couldn't help that. I pressed the button outside the garage, walked quickly down the driveway while the gate opened, and stepped onto the sidewalk. I was free! I was in a neighborhood of big homes on big lots. Rich people. Some but not all were gated. If I knocked on a front door, would I get help or be told to get lost? Choosing a direction at random, I turned right, hurrying as fast as I could in my heels. I passed the first house to the right, which had a gated driveway that was closed, when I heard a car squeal around a corner and a familiar hum coming down the street behind me. I looked over my shoulder and, to my horror, saw Mr. White's Tesla heading straight toward me. Opening the front door must have triggered some sort of alarm or alert. The doorbell video would show them what had happened. They were coming for me. I started to run. Realized I couldn't, not in these heels. Kicked them off. Ran down the sidewalk in my stockings, flashing my petticoat - I should have taken it off, too, but I was so used to wearing petticoats that I forgot I had it on. Turned into the first driveway that wasn't gated. Hoped to reach the front door, hoped someone was home, hoped they would let me inside before the Whites recaptured me. The driveway was long and uphill. Damn! The Tesla turned into the driveway, zoomed past me and braked to a stop, cutting me off from the front door and almost pinning me against a stone wall. I circled around the back of the car. The driver's side door opened. Mr. White hopped out and grabbed me by the wrist as I tried to get past him and reach the front door. "Stop!" he shouted. My body betrayed me by automatically obeying him. I stopped and tried to break free of his grip, but it was useless. He was taller, bigger and stronger than me and was in excellent shape. "Let me go!" I cried. He twisted my arm behind me. I was helpless. "Help! Help!" I shouted. By now Ms. East was out of the car. She had a pair of handcuffs, and quickly pinioned my wrists behind me. "Silence!" she hissed in my ear. Mr. White opened the rear door on the driver's side. His wife shoved me inside and slammed the door. I sprawled on the seat. With my hands bound, I couldn't sit up, let alone open the door. I was afraid to shout for help now. It would just make them angrier. The two of them hopped back into the car. Mr. White backed down the driveway, saw that the street was clear, pulled out into it, spun the steering wheel and headed back to their house. He pushed a button, the gate closed behind us and a garage door opened. He pulled inside. The door rattled down. My freedom had lasted a minute or less. I was trapped in their handcuffs, inside their car, inside their garage, inside their steel gate. I was their helpless captive, and I was shaking with fear of what would happen next. Mr. White turned in his seat and glared at me. "That was very foolish, Lisa, and you will be very sorry you did it." He opened the rear door, pulled me up and helped me out of the car. I hobbled inside in my tattered stockings. My shoes were out on the sidewalk somewhere. I was doomed. I was in such trouble. I had broken so many rules. Attempted escape. Refusal to obey orders. Loss of shoes. Destruction of stockings. Out of uniform while on duty. For starters. "Go to your room, Lisa," Ms. East said. "You can stay cuffed for now." I went upstairs, and immediately faced the problem of how to pee in a dress and petticoat with my hands handcuffed behind my back. I managed, but it took twice as long as usual, and I couldn't wipe afterwards. That was the least of my problems at the moment. I wondered how they would punish me. A heavy spanking for sure. I waited. I looked out my window and cried. My door opened. "Come with me," Mr. White said. I took the stairs carefully, knowing I was helpless to stop myself if I tripped. In the foyer, Mr. White blindfolded me and put a hood over my head, the way I usually traveled to and from customers' houses. He led me into the garage and pushed me headlong onto the back seat of the car. He took a length of rope and tied my ankles together, then got into the driver's seat. I felt the car back out, head down the driveway and turn left. Taking the usual circuitous route, he drove me back to Sir and Madam's house, where he untied my ankles and, without a word to me, handed me over to Madam. He spoke to Sir in his office. Madam removed my hood and blindfold and sent me to my room with my hands still cuffed behind my back. I sat on my bed and cried tears of bitter regret. I was so stupid! A stupid bimbo. Stupid enough to find myself in this humiliating situation. An hour later, Madam returned. She grabbed me by the arm and walked me downstairs. I almost tripped and fell. Sir was waiting in the foyer, holding a plastic cup of water. "Sit," Sir said, pointing to the loveseat in the foyer. He held the cup to my lips. "Drink." Oh no. Oh no. Oh no no no. When Sir and Madam's friends took me to their houses, they blindfolded and hooded and handcuffed me and made me lay down on the back seat or in the trunk of the car. They didn't sedate me. The cup of water meant only one thing. I was being sent back to Pink Prison. "No! No, please!" I turned my head away from the cup. I futilely struggled with the handcuffs. "Be still!" Madam grabbed my head and held it tight. I refused to open my mouth. Sir pinched my nose, cutting off my air supply. When I opened my mouth to breathe, he poured in the liquid, and she forced my head back so that I had to swallow. Before passing out, I had a vision of the face of Miss Madison, the mean girl prefect who made my life hell the last time I was in Pink Prison. She was laughing at me. End of Part 2