The Unspoken Arrangement Ch1 A Change in Conditions
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The Unspoken Arrangement, Ch 4: Afternoon Tea With A Guest free porn video
CHAPTER 4
Afternoon Tea with a Guest
The maid learns how Ms. Anderson likes her tea.
---
As Cecilia served his Mistress breakfast, she announced, "My friend
Heather is coming over for tea today. I thought it would be nice if you
served us, Cecilia. Heather can help make you even more like a woman.
Won't this be fun?"
"Yes, Mistress Tate," he agreed uncertainly.
"There's a good girl," she said, admiring the prettily-tied apron bow
of his Hallowe'en maid's uniform. "We'll skip your training this
morning so you can get the house ready and prepare the food. Here are
the recipes I want you to make. When you're finished with that, you can
report to my chambers."
When after his morning's housework and afternoon kitchen preparations
he arrived at her chambers, she told him to undress. Unlacing his old,
store-bought corset, she said, "I have a wonderful surprise for you,"
and brought out his new bespoke corset and professionally tailored
maid's uniform. At first he was excited, but when he saw the knee-
length black cotton dress and the large white cotton cross-back apron,
he looked downcast.
"What's the matter?" she said as she tightened the laces of his new
corset. "Don't you like your new uniform? I suppose you were hoping for
some frilly satin French Maid's outfit."
"No, Mistress Tate," he lied.
"Hmph," she snorted. The corset was giving him gorgeous curves. "I
remember the costumes you chose. Well, it isn't Hallowe'en any more,
Cecilia. You're going to be dressed as a proper maid. If you want a
French Maid's outfit, you'll have to earn one. That's fair, isn't it?"
"Yes, Mistress Tate," he agreed, trying to hide his disappointment.
"We'll talk about your attitude later," she said as she zipped him into
the English Maid dress she had chosen. The dress hugged his shapely
body beautifully. Satisfied with his new look, she was tying his cross-
back apron around his reduced waist when the doorbell rang.
"That will be Heather," she said, adjusting the bow. "Go and invite her
in. You may address her as Ms. Anderson."
"Yes, Mistress Tate," he said, without much enthusiasm.
"GO!" she said impatiently, swatting his ass, and he hurried off to
answer the front door, his new dress swaying attractively, his high
heels clicking on the hallway tiles as he set one foot in front of the
other.
He swung the door open to find Ms. Anderson on the step. A short,
pretty brunette, she was dressed in a white blouse, black leather
pants, and a black leather jacket, looking hotter than usual. Glancing
nervously out at the street, he curtseyed reflexively and said "Please
come in, Ms. Anderson," in a feminine tone.
"Thank you, Cecilia." She looked him up and down and said with a smile,
"I always thought you'd make a lovely maid."
Blushing, he answered hoarsely, "Thank you, Ms. Anderson." Closing the
front door with a nervous glance outside, he said, "May I take your
coat?" She handed it to him wordlessly and he hung it carefully in the
foyer closet. "Mistress Tate is expecting you," he improvised, trying
to fill the silence.
"Mistress Tate, is it?" she repeated, amused. "Well, you'd better take
me to your Mistress, Cecilia."
"Yes, Ms. Anderson," he said, embarrassed. "This way, please."
As she followed him into the living room, admiring the wiggle in his
ass, she remarked, "That's a pretty bow. Did you tie it yourself?"
"No, Ms. Anderson," he answered. "Mistress Tate tied it for me."
"Well, I'm sure you'll be tying your own bows soon enough," she said
lightly as she settled her luscious body into a chair.
"Yes, Ms. Anderson," he responded. "May I bring you some tea?"
"That would be lovely," she smirked. He curtseyed and clacked off to
the kitchen, trying to walk as he had been taught. As he went about his
duties, he heard his Mistress joining her guest. They were laughing,
but he couldn't hear what they were talking about. He returned wheeling
the tea service on a trolley. As the women watched in amused silence,
he transferred the silver tea tray to the table in front of them,
poured the tea, and then served each of them tea biscuits. As he
offered Ms. Anderson her plate, she smiled up at him and commented,
"Your maid's uniform really suits you, dear."
"Thank you, Ms. Anderson." He said, flustered. Turning to face his
wife, he curtseyed. "Will there be anything else, Mistress Tate?"
"Thank you, Cecilia, that will be all for now," she informed him.
"Heather and I have a lot to discuss, and I'm sure you have work to do.
If we need you, I'll ring."
"Yes, Mistress Tate," he curtseyed again, understanding that he had
been dismissed to do the housework. As he left the room pushing the
trolley, he could hear them giggling.
He was just finishing clean-up in the kitchen when he heard the bell
ring. He dried his hands on a cloth near the oven, and then hurried
into the hallway to inspect his appearance in the full-length mirror.
He saw a modestly attactive woman looking back at him. The English
Maid's uniform hugged his curves sensually. The simple practicality of
the plain dress and full apron brought home his status as a working
maid.
He turned to view himself from the side, admiring the line of his
padded breasts. Adjusting his petticoats to fan them out more
appealingly, he corrected the front of his dress, smoothing down his
apron. Then he hurried on to the drawing room, one high-heeled foot in
front of the other, to serve his wife and her guest.
As Heather watched, he stood at attention in front of Mistress Tate and
curtseyed. "Yes, Mistress Tate?" he asked.
"Ms. Anderson wants to ask you a few questions," his wife informed him.
"Of course, Mistress Tate." He turned to Heather, who was observing him
carefully, and curtseyed to her. "What would you like to know, Ms.
Anderson?"
Heather smiled indulgently. "Your mistress tells me you're quite a good
maid."
He waited silently for a direct question or order.
"She says you keep a diary. May I see it?"
He stared at the floor in horror. His Maid's Notebook contained
intimate secrets, including the punishments he had received, why he had
deserved them, and what he had learned from them.
His wife interrupted his thoughts to say irritably, "Cecilia, what are
you waiting for?"
"Yes, Ms. Anderson," he curtsied, and hurried daintily out of the room.
Jennifer turned to Heather and asked, "What do you think so far?"
"I think this could be a winning idea," laughed Heather. "He looks like
he's enjoying this treatment."
Jennifer smiled. "I mean about whether he'll pass."
"He looks pretty good," replied Heather. "He's doing everything right,
but he still needs a little practice, if you ask me."
"I'll tell you what," said Jennifer conspiratorially. "I need him out
of the house for a day. What if I send him over to clean your place?
You can work on him while he's there."
"Sounds fun," grinned Heather.
"I just have to schedule a day, and then we can go ahead. Is that all
right?"
"Sure," agreed Heather.
Jennifer got out her cell phone and called a number she had ready.
"Hello, is this Panopticon Property Monitoring?" She stood up to leave
the room just as Cecilia returned with his Maid's Notebook on a silver
tray.
Cecilia curtsied and presented the notebook to Ms. Anderson.
"You present very well," she commented. "Is it something you were
trained to do?"
"Yes, Ms. Anderson."
She took the book and began leafing through it. "I see you perform
massages," she remarked. She flipped to another page. "And ironing,"
she noted with approval. Scanning the page slowly, she laughed, "My,
you certainly were taught how to iron properly, weren't you?"
"Yes, Mistress," he said, blushing as he remembered how he had been
caned over the ironing board for wrinkling one of Mistress Tate's
pleated skirts.
She riffled through the pages, looking for something. "What about
windows? Do you wash windows?"
He hesitated. "People might see me, Ms. Anderson."
"So?" she asked, looking up at him. "Are you ashamed to be a maid?"
"No, Ms. Anderson. . . " His voice trailed off. "But we don't want to
shock or offend anyone."
"Then it's in everyone's best interest that you look as convincing as
possible, isn't it?"
"Yes, Ms. Anderson," he agreed uncomfortably.
"Walk across the room for me."
He obeyed, his shoulders held back as he had been trained, his skirts
swishing as he sashayed in his heels, his back showing off the big
white X of his apron straps. When he was on the other side of the room,
she said, "Now face me and pretend to be washing a tall window."
He mimed washing a window. As he stretched upwards and rubbed the air,
his bosom began jiggling in the dress.
"Very good. Now turn around, do it the other way."
He turned and began scrubbing with his back to her, again stretching
high. His skirts arched over his petticoats, rocking gently back and
forth with his motions.
At this moment, Jennifer came back into the room. "My goodness, what's
going on here?" she asked.
"Cecilia's washing windows," explained Heather.
"Windows? Do you think she's ready?"
"She'd better be," said Heather. "Have you made your arrangements?"
"Yes, how does Thursday the 27th work for you?"
"I don't see why not," said Heather. "Cecilia, you can stop that now."
"Yes, Ms. Anderson."
"Come over here," Jennifer ordered him, sitting down next to Heather.
"Yes, Mistress Tate," he replied, scurrying over and curtseying.
"Ms. Anderson has expressed interest in having a maid clean for her.
She would like to try you out. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mistress Tate."
"We have agreed that on Thursday the 27th, you will be in her service
for a full working day, including the evening . You are to do as she
instructs you. Is that clear, Cecilia?"
"Yes, Mistress Tate," he agreed, curtseying. His stomach formed a knot
as he realized Ms. Anderson would be making him clean windows in his
maid's uniform, exposing his humiliation to passers-by on the street.
But then Jennifer said, "You're really having her wash the windows?"
"Why not? She looks like a woman washing windows to me."
"She does. But the English Maid's uniform is something people might
notice, don't you think?"
"True," Heather pondered. "Could we get her a regular housekeeping
uniform? You know, the kind the cleaning services use."
"That would look more convincing," agreed Jennifer. "Cecilia, would you
like a regular housekeeping uniform for your service at Ms.
Anderson's?"
"Yes, Mistress Tate," he agreed with relief.
"But you've always wanted a French Maid uniform, Cecilia. If we're
going to get you a new uniform, why not get you one of those instead?
Maybe something in satin, with a short dress and lots of white
petticoats and a great big bow. What do you think?"
He imagined how he would look cleaning Ms. Anderson's windows dressed
like that, with his petticoats and panties exposed to passers-by. Would
she do that to him? He said uncomfortably, "Mistress Tate."
"Well, ask for whichever one you prefer," she shrugged.
He was silent for a moment, and then asked in a hoarse whisper,
"Please, Mistress Tate, may I have the regular housekeeping uniform?"
"Yes, of course you may, Cecilia," said Mistress Tate with a grin.
"We'll order one today."
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