Candice Parker - Part 1 free porn video

Candice Parker - Part 1 Chapter 1 - Inheritance "Excuse me?" asked Candice Aileen Parker, in complete shock. "Oh, there's no mistake, Miss Parker. You heard what you thought you just heard," smiled Mr. Adams, the attorney who was acting as executor for the estate. "Mr. Simmons bequeathed his entire estate to you alone, with no conditions attached. Just prior to his death, he decided to liquidate most of his holdings, in order to simplify matters; so aside from the mansion in which he resided and the property surrounding it, everything else has been sold off. A relatively small percentage of the proceeds from the sales has been deposited in a few savings accounts at retail banks, for your convenience, and the remainder has been invested in low risk mutual funds and other relatively conservative investments in various brokerage accounts, all of which will be in your name as soon as you sign these transfer documents. I'm afraid we'll be here for most of the morning and possibly well into the afternoon, tying up all of the loose ends; but for your part, it mostly will be reading and signing. I reserved this conference room for the entire day so that you wouldn't be rushed, and of course Mrs. Leung and I, as well as several of our other staff members, will be here to answer any questions as you plow through some of the more tedious contracts and other documents." He and Mrs. Leung confidently glanced at each other and then casually smiled at Candice, as though she had a clue what was going on. Candice had been introduced to Mrs. Leung by Mr. Adams just a few moments ago. Mrs. Leung is co-owner of the accounting and investment advisory firm that represented Mr. Simmons. Actually, this was Candice's first time meeting Mr. Adams in person, having spoken to him only once before, by telephone. He had called Candice last week to inform her of the passing of Mr. Simmons, and that Candice's presence was requested for the reading of the will at the law firm of which Mr. Adams is a partner. Mr. Simmons was an elderly gentleman whom Candice had befriended at the local park. Candice worked as a programmer at a tech company within walking distance of her apartment, and she often walked through the park after work, sometimes stopping to sit on a bench to relax. Others preferred stopping by a local bar to take off the edge from work before going home; but she didn't drink much, and she never felt comfortable socializing in straight bars... or gay bars, for that matter. Being transsexual, and being self-conscious about it, Candice never felt as though she fit in with either crowd, so she had always been a bit of a loner. One day, while Candice was sitting in the park, gazing into a pond where the ducks congregated, and contemplating her future, Mr. Simmons appeared and asked if he could share her bench. He was in his early nineties, but mentally sharp, and he could walk alone with the help of a cane. After a bit of small talk, their conversation expanded, and the two discovered that they thought very much alike. They randomly encountered each other in the park every so often, becoming more acquainted with each other, and a friendship eventually developed. The two enjoyed their casual conversations on a semi-regular basis, although they never met outside of the park, and neither of them knew where the other lived... or so Candice thought. For nearly a year, they continued meeting for their little chats in the park every week or two, and while Candice didn't know the man well enough to consider him a close friend, they did begin to confide a bit in each other; and Mr. Simmons seemed to enjoy the role of being Candice's informal mentor. It troubled him that she usually had a melancholy disposition; and one day, he risked mentioning it to her. Initially, she hesitated; but Candice decided to tell him about her family disowning her after she came out as transsexual in high school, and how she had put herself through college after leaving home. She didn't have the career that she wanted immediately after graduation, so Candice settled for job that at least would allow her to pay off her student loans and build a resume. She just barely could afford hormone therapy, but sex reassignment surgery was out of reach until her loans were paid off. Mr. Simmons never reacted negatively or awkwardly to her being trans, and it was refreshing for her to be able to talk about that with someone who wasn't a psychologist or a disappointed family member. In the years to follow, Candice would recall that conversation many times, and how much better it had made her feel that day. She even would blush when remembering Mr. Simmons' compliment, in that "charming old man" voice of his: "You're far too pretty a girl to go around looking so sad all the time." In a later conversation, Mr. Simmons asked Candice if she had someone special in her life, and she explained that she didn't have much time for romance. Even when she did find the time, being trans made that difficult, as did her peculiar... tendencies. Mr. Simmons politely pried, and she reluctantly shared that she's submissive... not just as a passive girlfriend, but submissive in the BDSM lifestyle sense of the term. She had never shared that with anyone else, including the psychologists whom she was required to visit for her hormone therapy. Surprisingly to Candice, he understood both the terminology and the concepts without her having to explain. Also to her amazement, Mr. Simmons disclosed that he and his late wife had a similar relationship, so he could relate to at least part of what Candice was going through. From the way he spoke of his wife, it was obvious to Candice he loved and missed his wife very much. She had died three years prior, not long after their sixtieth wedding anniversary. Candice felt sorry for old Mr. Simmons; but as it turned out, he felt even sorrier for her. His wife had been his true soul mate, as well as his loyal, obedient slave, for the entirety of their marriage. He fully appreciated just how fortunate they were to have enjoyed over sixty years of kinky bliss together. Having known others in the lifestyle over the decades, he knew all too well how empty Candice must have felt without the hand of a dominant lover to guide her. Mr. Simmons couldn't directly relate to her being transsexual, but he certainly understood the isolation that many in her situation must endure. While he didn't divulge quite as much about himself as Candice had shared about her own life, they both benefited from their occasional chats. However, Mr. Simmons couldn't help but feel concerned about this young woman's future. Just after winter had turned to spring, Mr. Simmons disappeared for a couple of months. Eventually, Candice received the phone call from Mr. Adams, explaining that Mr. Simmons had taken ill and died of natural causes. While Candice never got to know the dear old man as much as she would've liked, he had given her some very sound advice during their little chats, and walking through the park would never be the same for her. Back at the law firm, Candice spoke as calmly and professionally as she could. "Look, Mr. Adams... and Mrs. Leung... obviously, you must do this type of thing quite often, so I don't mean to tell you your business, but I wasn't very close to Mr. Simmons. I mean, we weren't related or anything, and I don't even know where he lived. For that matter, I don't understand how you knew where to reach me. I can't possibly be the sole heiress to his estate. I didn't even know he had an 'estate'." "Mr. Simmons explained to us that you'd be surprised," Mr. Adams replied. "But he made it very clear that everything (after applicable taxes and fees, of course) was to be left to you, and we're certain that you're the right person. Rest assured that there is no mistake. That being said, he did tell us quite a bit about you, so we apologize for having you at a bit of a disadvantage in that regard. We realize that, from both a legal and financial perspective, this is a situation that most likely will drastically change your life, and Mr. Simmons wanted the two of us to help guide you through the transition, for as long as you desire. Of course, you're under no obligation to continue a business relationship with either of our firms going forward, but until you designate your own accounting, investment, and legal representation, we've already been compensated for helping you, so we're at your disposal." Just as they had before, Mr. Adams and Mrs. Leung glanced at each other and then casually smiled at their new client, ready to answer her questions. Candice started with the obvious. "You mentioned a mansion. So, are you telling me that Mr. Simmons... actually was a millionaire?" "Oh, no, Miss Parker," Mrs. Leung beamed. "Currently, the net worth of his, or should I say your, estate is $16.7 billion dollars, in U.S. currency, including the mansion property, which is valued at $143 million." Chapter 2 - Transition Candice Parker spent the following week moving out of her apartment and into her completely furnished mansion. That first day in her new home had exhausted Candice, and despite her excitement, she couldn't wait to get to sleep. Most of her belongings had yet to be unpacked, but as she prepared for bed on her first night in the mansion, she took a special little pink bag out of a suitcase. It contained her only three items of BDSM gear: a silicone ball gag with a leather strap; a thin, leather, locking collar with a heart-shaped padlock; and a small, stainless steel, teardrop-shaped butt plug. Given her salary and expenses, these were the only toys she had allowed herself to buy since leaving home. She took the bag into the bathroom, placed a condom on the butt plug, inserted it, and washed her hands. Then, she locked the soft leather collar around her neck. Finally, she strapped on the ball gag as tightly as possible without being uncomfortable, and stared at herself in the mirror for a moment. She pranced over to her new king-sized bed, and proceeded to masturbate herself to the strongest climax she had experienced in a long while. After enjoying a few minutes of afterglow, Candice went to the bathroom to remove and wash her gag, carefully patted it dry, then hung it on a coat hanger to let the leather strap dry overnight. She went back to bed, still wearing her collar and plug, and quite possibly had the best night's sleep of her life. On that first day, Mr. Adams himself had driven Candice to see the mansion for the first time, spending most of the day giving her the grand tour. He introduced her to the staff, gave her the keys to the mansion itself and various other structures on the estate, and covered the typical information that a real estate agent normally would've covered, had Candice purchased the estate. She had only enough time to move her belongings into her bedroom before taking the tour. The next day, she unpacked a few essentials, then headed back out into the world to tie up the loose ends of her former life. Actually, moving out was a fairly simple matter, because Candice owned very little in the way of furnishings, and had just enough formal business attire so that she wouldn't appear impoverished at her job, from which she promptly resigned. Negotiating the buyout of her apartment lease, which would have been a traumatic event for her only a week prior, felt as trivial as ordering a pizza. Rather than haggle, which the apartment manager was willing to do, she simply wrote a check for the full remainder of the lease. Unlike the supervisors at her former job, who treated Candice as an easily disposable and replaceable cog in a machine, the apartment manager and staff always had treated her as a valued tenant, and she didn't want to cause them any inconvenience. As she walked out of the manager's office, Candice jokingly thought to herself that, had she wanted, she could have bought the real estate holding company that owned the management company that owned the apartment complex that held her lease agreement, let herself out of her own lease, and then sold the parent company. She quickly dropped her smirk and scolded herself for thinking such a foolish thing, even as a joke. She was determined not to let money turn her into a bratty little tyrant. Mr. Simmons chose her to run his estate, but she still didn't know why. Whatever his reasons were, she owed it to both him and herself to be responsible and kind with her new fortune. Leaving her past behind was the easy part of the transition for Candice. The difficult part was moving into a new home that felt more like a city block than a house, as well as facing new responsibilities as the sole owner of such a large estate. Reflecting back on the past few weeks, she still was in a daze. Everything had happened so swiftly, and she couldn't yet process the reality of it all. Initially, she had reacted like a cat does to new surroundings, immediately exploring every floor, every hall, every room, and every closet. She examined every piece of furniture, every appliance, all of the plumbing, every window, and mapped out all of the air conditioning vents. She circled the exterior of the main house multiple times, going in and out of every door several times, taking note of every tree and bush in the yard immediately surrounding the house, as well as the landscaping around the smaller structures on the estate, including the garage. For the first time in her life, she owned a vehicle... actually, several vehicles. Over the past few years, as Mr. Simmons had grown older and weaker, the estate's staff had dwindled to a handful of house servants. All of the landscaping, gardening, and other external services had been outsourced to third-party contractors, so the only direct employees of the estate were the mansion staff. Some of the few remaining maids quit after Mr. Simmons died, fearing the uncertainty that comes with a new owner, especially a young woman who might have very different ideas about how the estate should be run. To most observers, Candice passed as being naturally female, and Mr. Adams and Mrs. Leung knew that Candice was transsexual only because Mr. Simmons had told them, in the strictest of confidence. The estate's remaining staff knew nothing of the new owner, and assumed that she was biologically female. Aside from the day when they were introduced to Candice by Mr. Adams, Candice had met with them only one other time, to briefly ask them to carry on as usual until she got her footing. But now that she was getting settled in, Candice realized that she needed to address the staff about the current staff shortage, as well as her plans for the estate's future. She called for a meeting with all staff members, and asked the butler to choose the most suitable room and time to hold it. Candice was terrified, both of the new responsibilities that were obvious to her, and those of which she was yet to realize. She was comfortable being an introvert and a loner. She didn't want to be in the spotlight, and the idea of telling others what to do made her so uncomfortable that she became nauseous, if she dwelt on it for more than a few seconds. She couldn't understand why Mr. Simmons thought she would be suited for this. Candice knew that she wasn't a leader, and the staff would know it, too. Although she was intelligent and educated, she wasn't cut out for this level of responsibility and obligation, and she worried about having others rely on her ability to make important decisions. For now, she would have to fake it, until she figured out what to do. Chapter 3 - Culture Shock "Well, Mistress Parker, if I may be allowed to provide a bit of background regarding that point," offered the Head Butler, Mr. Wilson, who was now the only butler. "You see, Master Simmons grew up in this mansion, when his parents owned the estate. He was an only child, like his father, who inherited the estate from the Master's grandparents. The Simmons men all were long lived, outliving all of their wives, and the Master's father didn't have any children until he was well into his sixties, when he fathered a son with his second wife, who was three decades younger than he. The Master's grandfather also waited until later in life to have a child. Therefore, three generations of the Simmons family spanned a time frame that would normally see five or six generations. Because of that, you might say that time moved a bit slower here at the Simmons estate, at least in some ways. The late Master inherited a view of the world that was a bit more traditional and that, well, preferred a greater degree of formality than often is observed today. Please don't misunderstand; Master Simmons was an extraordinarily kind man who treated us with respect, as professionals, and he compensated us very well. However, he always kept things very formal, which explains our more traditional uniforms and the manner in which we addressed him, and now you, Mistress." Candice was seated at the head of a large conference room table, with the five remaining household staff members seated on either side of her. The table was far larger than this meeting required, with the length of the unoccupied end dwarfing the occupied end. The conference room reminded Candice of images of old English gentlemen's clubs. The room was darkly lit (compared to the rest of the mansion) and filled with studded leather chairs and furniture made of the most beautiful woods she had ever seen. The room's colors were deep, rich browns and burgundies, producing a decidedly masculine atmosphere. The edges of the conference table were lined with a glossy Carpathian elm burl that hypnotized Candice. She had visited every room in the mansion, and seen all of the furniture, but she hadn't had time to appreciate all of the little details. Gradually, she was beginning to fall in love with this house; not simply because it was expensive, but because everything was so beautifully purposeful. Each room intentionally was designed to force the occupants feel a certain way. It was more than the mere suggestion of a mood; this room, every other room, the mansion itself, and the estate as a whole were all forcing their wills upon her, dominating her emotions, mandating that she react to them as they desired... in her mind, at least. As if dragging herself out of bed after only an hour's sleep, Candice pried her eyes away from the hypnotic elm burl and focused her consciousness on the baritone voice of Mr. Wilson. His accent was clearly American, but it struck Candice as being upper class, as though several generations of his family had attended Ivy League schools. Despite her daydreaming, she had followed Mr. Wilson's response to her observation that the mood of the staff seemed "excessively formal" under the circumstances. Because of that, the meeting had not started well, and Candice had unintentionally threatened the respectability of the estate in the eyes of the staff members. They were trying their best to be delicate, when Mr. Wilson diplomatically spoke for the staff. It was clear that the others looked up to him and the Housekeeper (in effect, the Head Maid), Mrs. Belfridge. They occasionally nodded their heads as Mr. Wilson spoke. "Ah. Thank you, Mr. Wilson. I do appreciate your insight into the estate's history. I really don't intend to make any of you feel uncomfortable, and I'm sorry if I've offended any of you with my causal nature." Candice attempted to choose her words carefully, but she never was comfortable attending meetings at her old job, let alone speaking during meetings. Each one of the remaining staff members seemed so perfectly qualified for their positions, not to mention experienced (they all were between the ages of thirty-four and fifty-seven). She felt that she was the only one here who was unqualified. Candice already loved this mansion, but she realized that the staff knew the estate much better than she. "I hope you'll all forgive me, but I won't be addressing you one way while requiring you to address me another way. Either we're all formal with each other, or we're all casual. I'm not suggesting that Mr. Simmons was wrong, but he had his way, and I have mine." The staff continued to quietly listen. "I can't bring myself to address the maids by their first names while hearing them address me as 'Miss Parker,' or 'Mistress.' And, Mr. Wilson, I will never address or refer to you as 'Wilson' without the title 'Mr.' before your name. Were I to do so, I would feel so disrespectful that I couldn't look at myself in the mirror. That being said, I can understand if my suggestion that we all use our first names was too much of a change for you. If you, as a group, are of the opinion that a degree of traditional formality should be maintained here at the estate, then I'll agree; but you must meet me halfway. You may address me as Miss Parker, but please, not as 'Mistress Parker' or 'Mistress.' And I will address each of you by your surnames, with the titles 'Ms.' or 'Mr.' in return." Candice paused. "Agreed?" The butler, chef, and the three maids glanced at each other and nodded their heads. Mrs. Belfridge smiled and spoke up. "Agreed. But what about the issue of the uniforms?" Candice also had made the mistake of suggesting that the staff uniforms, especially the maids' uniforms, be 'modernized.' Currently, Mrs. Belfridge and the two remaining maids (they had made it very clear to Candice that they officially were 'maids') wore very traditional black and white uniforms, complete with white wrist cuffs, lacy collars, and headpieces. They weren't stereotypical, flimsy, French maid costumes; they were practical, yet feminine, working dresses with skirts just below the knees, and with functional aprons. Depending on their duties, they would switch between waist aprons and full-length bib aprons, but they all were white with ruffles around the edges. The maids also had fancier pinafore aprons for very formal occasions, which Candice had not yet seen, but that had been mentioned. Surprisingly to Candice, all three maids wore Mary Jane pumps with three to four inch [7.5cm to 10cm] heels, rather than flats. The cook wore a white double-breasted jacket, white pants, and a white chef's hat when cooking, which actually was quite stereotypical. Her apron was a unisex style and much wider than the maids' aprons, completely wrapping her waist. The butler wore a modern three-piece suit consisting a standard- length black jacket and pants with either a white or black vest, a white shirt, and a black necktie. For more formal occasions, he would wear a jacket that was considerably longer in the back. Being kinky, and having a few fetishes, Candice had always fantasized about certain uniforms for maids, nurses, waitresses, etc. However, being poor, her previous experience was limited to browsing over- sexualized uniform styles on retail websites. She never before had the means to purchase any such uniforms, nor was she knowledgeable about their functional, real-world counterparts. This introduction to the styles and purposes of real uniforms provided quite the edification for Candice, and she was determined to avoid trivializing any of the mansion's traditions out of her own ignorance. She allowed the staff to educate her. "For now, we'll drop the issue of changing the uniforms," announced Candice. "Even though I now own this estate, I understand that it has been here much longer than I have, and the five of you call the mansion home, too. I should have waited until I had a better feel for how this estate operates before making sweeping suggestions. Maybe after a few months, I'll have a better idea of what I'm talking about, and we can discuss things then." The staff responded well, and gained some respect for the new owner for not acting like a know-it-all at such a young age. Mr. Wilson went on to explain to Candice that one key reason the staff preferred certain traditions, such as wearing the relatively old-fashioned uniforms and addressing the Master/Mistress of the house in a formal manner, is that the formalities weeded-out new hires who weren't serious about maintaining the dignified standards of the estate. Candice concurred. The staff's collective attitude was having the same effect on her as the mansion's decor. It was as though the estate had a personality of its own, and it demanded respect. Candice moved on. "So, the next item on the agenda is the current staff shortage. I appreciate that you five currently have your hands full. It's my understanding that the mansion staff alone once consisted of over sixty employees, working various shifts around the clock. Considering that I'm single and have no immediate plans to start a family or move anyone else into my home, how many additional staff members do we need to efficiently run things without creating a burden on everyone?" Mrs. Belfridge and Mr. Wilson politely turned to each other, with Mrs. Belfridge giving Mr. Wilson a slight nod, indicating that he should speak first. "In previous years, Master and Mistress Simmons were in the habit of entertaining guests on a regular basis. There were occasional parties, some being quite lavish and involving over a hundred guests, but most affairs were considerably smaller. The Simmonses also allowed friends of theirs to stay here when they were in from out-of-town, either because they were in the city on business or here specifically to visit the Simmonses. They wouldn't stand for their close friends staying in hotels when this mansion was far superior in accommodating their needs." "Sometimes, their friends would stay for several weeks, or even months, at a time," Mrs. Belfridge added. "Neither the Master nor the Mistress had any family, you see. No blood relations, anyway. They treated their closest friends as a surrogate extended family." "Indeed," nodded Mr. Wilson. "Even in their sixties and seventies, the couple was very socially active, and up until the last decade or so, the mansion was a rather busy place, at all hours of the day and night, which justified a larger staff, working in rotations. However, as she entered her eighties, the Mistress began suffering from serious health issues, and their lifestyle toned down considerably. Two full-time nurses moved into the mansion, and stayed until Mistress' death. The Master was able to get around with minimal help until just a couple of months ago. Understandably, he never was the same after his wife had passed. After that, he left the mansion only for an occasional walk in the park, although that was more for sentimental than health reasons. You see, that's where he and the Mistress met, over six decades ago." It took all of Candice's strength to keep her eyes from watering at the mention of the park. "It doesn't quite explain everything," thought Candice to herself, "but the park must have been considered holy ground by that dear man. It's where Mr. Simmons met the love of his life, and it's where he listened to my problems. Maybe he wanted the park to be a starting point for me, too... but it can't be that simple, can it?" Mr. Wilson's voice interrupted her thoughts. "I'm sorry, Miss Parker, did I say something inappropriate?" Candice hadn't realized that she had been staring down at the table for so long, and quickly reassured the staff. "Oh, no, of course not! I was just trying to estimate how many employees we'll need. Assuming that the five of you decide to stay on, would eight or ten more be enough for daytime hours only, if I don't throw parties or have many guests for a while? I think we'd need a second butler, maybe a third, and the rest would be additional maids. What do you think?" "This is a rather large mansion, Miss Parker. eight full-time maids would be the absolute minimum, if attending to you alone, and assuming that you decide to continue keeping parts of the mansion closed off and the furniture covered. Although, if you decide to start regularly entertaining guests, or if you intend to maintain every room at all times, then I dare say even twenty maids would be overwhelmed," offered Mrs. Belfridge. "Also, if you'll require meals to be available at all hours, then you'll need at least a second and third cook. The mansion's supply room has extra aprons, equipment, and uniforms of various sizes on hand; but generally, the uniforms are custom ordered for the exact measurements of full-time staff." Mr. Wilson immediately followed, "Before Mistress Simmons became ill, the mansion had five butlers on rotation (who also served as chauffeurs), so that there was at least one on duty at all times. For special occasions, three, or even all five of us, would work together. If you'll need me only during the day, then I'll suffice. However, if you'll be needing a butler on duty twenty-four/seven, then I suggest at least three, with overlapping shift changes. Naturally, the more active you are, and the more of the mansion you use, the more staff you'll require." Candice responded, this time a bit more timidly, "Mr. Wilson, at the risk of drawing attention to my ignorance and inexperience, did Mr. and Mrs. Simmons run the mansion themselves, or did they have someone who served as a chief of staff? To be candid with you, I'm a bit overwhelmed myself, and I would need some help with interviewing applicants, not to mention running this estate on a day-to-day basis." Mr. Wilson smiled and reassured Candice. "Actually, that's quite a valid concern, Miss Parker. While she was healthy, Mistress Simmons was very much involved in directly supervising the staff. Master Simmons occupied himself with his career, and retired only when his wife fell ill. He never got around to hiring a replacement for his wife when she no longer had the energy, but most estates of comparable size do have an estate manager position, or a similar title which serves that function." Unknown to the staff, Master Simmons had ordered his wife to supervise the staff on a regular basis, because he didn't trust anyone else to handle the job. That was her official job, whereas her unofficial job was being her husband's slave. Candice sighed. "Well, then, it seems my first order of business is to hire a chief of staff, and have that person do the remainder of the hiring. I don't know how long it will take me to interview applicants, but in the meantime, we'll be short-staffed. I'm not about to ask the rest of you to do more than you can, so I'll be helping the maids with general cleaning until we get some more help." The staff looked astonished, and Mrs. Belfridge was about to object, but Candice cut her off. "I'm sorry if it makes any of you uncomfortable, but I'm not about to sit around by the pool while we have more work to do than the three of you can handle. Even with four maids, we'll have our hands full. For the areas that we don't have the time maintain, we'll continue to cover the furniture and close off those rooms of the mansion until we hire more staff. We'll focus on maintaining the most used and most visible rooms, which I'm sure you're already doing. Besides, I need to familiarize myself with my new home, and there's no better way to do that than to clean it." "Miss Parker, really, you shouldn't be..." Mr. Wilson tried, but was quickly cut off. "Desperate times call for desperate measures, Mr. Wilson," retorted a smiling Candice. Mrs. Belfridge finally got in a word. "But Miss, it won't look right to have you cleaning your own mansion." "Mrs. Belfridge, if you're concerned that it would reflect poorly on the estate, or specifically on you and the other maids, please realize that only the six of us in this room will know that I'm helping. None of the gardeners working for the independent contractor even know who I am. I don't have any friends, so there will be no one to gossip," Candice said with a wry smile, eliciting sympathetic smiles from the staff. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll stop cleaning if we have any company. It'll be our little secret; and besides, it's only temporary, until we hire additional maids." "Oh, I almost forgot; there's one last thing..." again, Candice playfully smiled, as the entire staff braced themselves. "As we've acknowledged, with the mansion being short-staffed, you five have been under a bit of a strain. In addition to my helping out, I've decided to enact another temporary, emergency measure. Until I can hire additional staff to relieve the burden, I'm changing your regular wages to double overtime rates, and any overtime hours that you work will be paid as quadruple overtime. Overtime will be strictly voluntary, of course. Regular hours for all staff will be daytime, Monday through Friday, with weeknights and weekends being overtime. Once we have a full staff again, we'll go back to your regular schedules and pay." The staff seemed pleased, with the two junior maids immediately making themselves available for as much overtime as they could schedule. So, Candice decided to hire a manager to act as her chief of staff. She knew that she wasn't ready to handle all of this. She needed someone to be the grown-up in the room, and do all of the tough things that she couldn't bring herself to do, such as give orders to the staff, hire and fire staff when necessary, and make sure independent contractors did their jobs. Candice would also need someone to see that mail and other deliveries are properly handled, and to ensure that monthly utilities and other expenses are paid. Paying routine bills and handling deliveries of supplies for such a vast estate, combined with all of the supervision required, was a full-time job, and Candice could afford to pay someone else to be responsible. Of more immediate importance to Candice, not only was she finally able to afford to dress up as a maid, but she would actually be able to work as a maid in a big, beautiful mansion. This had long been a fantasy of hers, and because this was her estate, no one could stop her. After dismissing the meeting, she immediately inspected the uniform closet in the enormous supply room, and found a few maid's dresses close enough to her size, a headpiece, and a bib apron. She already owned a pair of suitable high heels similar to the style that the other maids were wearing, but she would need to take a shopping trip to buy several more in her size, because she doubted that her cheap shoes would withstand the abuse of real housework. It was mid-afternoon when Candice scrambled upstairs to the master bedroom, where she stripped off her clothes as though they were on fire. She was so excited and clumsy that she almost tore the maid's dress while putting it on. She calmed herself, pulled the apron over her head, and tied the waist ribbons into a big bow behind her back. She then adjusted the headpiece and stared at herself in the mirror for half an hour, striking all sorts of ridiculous poses. She was fully aware of the fact that she was fetishizing what those other women did for a living, but she couldn't help herself. Besides, she meant no disrespect. Seeing herself in that cute black-and-white uniform felt so natural, so right, so...her! She was just about to reach for her pink bag when her cell phone rang. It was Mr. Adams, her attorney. She let that thought sink in... she actually had an attorney. "Candice Parker. No sir, I don't mind you using this number. Honestly, I still don't remember the number of the mansion's main line," she giggled. "Yes, sir, I'm free tomorrow. I can be there any... oh, you'll come here? Oh, eleven o'clock is just fine. I could ask the cook to have a nice lunch ready for us. Oh, well that's too bad, maybe next time. Right, I'll see you at eleven, then. Bye, Mr. Adams." Mr. Adams informed Candice that he had to personally deliver some documents to her regarding the estate. She figured it was something important, yet legal and boring, so she thought no more of it. Candice opened her pink bag and put on her collar, which perfectly matched her uniform. She stared in the mirror again, thinking about adding two more accessories, when she realized that she was no longer limited to the contents of her little pink bag. She had the entire World Wide Web of BDSM specialty shops at her disposal, and she could afford anything she found. She booted up her laptop and began surfing her favorite fantasy shops. She knew that she should be working on posting an announcement of the job opening for the chief of staff, but that could wait. Candice at least mustered enough responsibility to call the cook and let her know that she wouldn't be eating dinner tonight. She then gagged and plugged herself, and continued her on-line shopping spree until well into the early morning hours. Chapter 4 - Custom Maid Despite getting to sleep late, Candice awoke relatively early, just after sunrise. She quickly showered and put on more makeup than usual, going with darker eyes and lips, and using waterproof formulas wherever she could. She pulled her long hair back into a ponytail, showing off her golden hoop earrings. She often wore a septum ring, but decided that might be too much for the other staff to see on her first day as a maid. She had forgotten to remove her butt plug before jumping into the shower, so she decided to leave it in. She had worn it to work for kicks on a few occasions, but her previous work days were spent sitting at a desk. Today, she had planned to engage in physical labor all day, so it would be a bit of a plug endurance test. She was so busy yesterday that she never ate anything, having only a few glasses of iced tea, so she figured that she'd be O.K., ass-wise. Candice was in a very kinky mood, and she couldn't get downstairs quickly enough to start working. As tempted as she was to wear garters and stockings, she played it safe with pantyhose, but wore the sexiest black bra that she owned. She slipped on her black and white maid's dress, tied on her bib apron, fastened her headpiece, and strapped on some four inch [10cm] heels. She couldn't help but think that a lacy collar would look adorable with her uniform, but none of the other maids had worn collars, so she settled for a very understated, golden pendant necklace. Being satisfied with her reflection in the mirror, she scampered downstairs as though she expected to find a pile of gifts left by Santa Claus. The cook already had breakfast ready for Mr. Wilson at 7:00 a.m., as those two always were the first to get started. The maids started work at 8:30 on typical days, and two of them were having breakfast when Candice entered the kitchen at 7:30. All eyes turned to her as she seated herself between the other two maids, at the nearer kitchen table, whereas Mr. Wilson sat alone at another table further away. Candice sat very carefully, ensuring that the metal base of her plug didn't make any noise against the wooden chair. No one said a word; they just froze and stared, including the cook. "Why do I feel like I'm a notorious gunfighter who just walked into an old west saloon?" Candice jokingly asked. They two maids giggled, and the cook just shook her head and turned back to her stove. Before responding in an equally jovial mood, Mr. Wilson folded his newspaper (Mr. Simmons was old fashioned, and the mansion still subscribed to two newspapers) and removed his reading glasses. "Well, Miss Parker, for starters, in the two weeks that you've been here, this is the first time you been sighted in the morning before eleven o'clock." The cook chuckled, having attempted to serve Candice wonderful breakfasts on several occasions, only to be disappointed by her late sleeping habits. "And there's the fact that the Mistress of the... excuse me, the owner of the estate... is taking breakfast in the kitchen with the staff, which was, until today, unheard of," announced Mr. Wilson, as Candice fawned shame, tilting her head down while looking up with her best "I'm a bad girl" smirk. One of the other maids spoke up. "You'll forgive me Miss, but yesterday, when you said you'd be helping out, I didn't think you meant that you'd be in uniform." The other maid chimed in, "You have to admit, Miss Parker, it is a bit... unorthodox." It was at that moment that Mrs. Belfridge walked into the kitchen. Mr. Wilson took it upon himself to make the introduction. "Ah, good morning Mrs. Belfridge. Allow me to introduce you to our newest addition to the maid staff, Candice Parker. I hear that her credentials are impeccable." The cook and the two other maids laughed, not at Candice, but at Mrs. Belfridge's expression, as she stood behind Candice. Mrs. Belfridge had placed her hands on her hips, and looked down and Candice as though she were about to scold a naughty child. "Now really, Miss Parker! I do appreciate that the Mistress..." Mr. Wilson interrupted, raising and wagging his index finger, to giggles from the other maids, "Ah-ah! We no longer use that word!" Mrs. Belfridge continued, trying not to laugh herself, "...the lady of the house... generously has offered to help out while we're short staffed, but dressing as a maid in your own mansion is taking things a bit too far... if I may say so." She walked around the table to the cupboard on the far side of the kitchen, then brought a plate, a glass, and some utensils to Candice and placed them in front of her. "I see that none of you saw fit to tell our employer where things are. You'll have to forgive them, Miss. Parker. We serve ourselves in the kitchen." Mrs. Belfridge got a plate for herself and sat at the other table, across from Mr. Wilson. The cook had placed a variety of breakfast foods on some trays at the center of each table, according to the tastes of the staff. "If you'd prefer something in particular, Miss, jut say the word," the cook spoke up. Candice took a single slice of cantaloupe and poured herself half a glass of orange juice. "Oh, no thank you. This is fine." Candice looked across to the other table. "So, Mrs. Belfridge, what's on the housework agenda for today? You'll forgive me if I'm a bit anxious to get started, but I need to learn all of the chores before I hire a chief of staff." In between sips of coffee, Mrs. Belfridge gave her employer the rundown of the chores that the four maids would tackle that day. To Candice, it sounded like a week's worth of work, but then she was used to cleaning a mere studio apartment. "Well, if it's alright with you, Mrs. Belfridge, I'll give you 'operational command,' so-to- speak, considering that I'm new to all of this. After breakfast, just take me to where we need the most help and show me what to do." The eldest maid simply nodded as she sipped her coffee and thought to herself, "The poor girl won't last a day." For the next two and a half hours, Candice scrubbed bathrooms. Mrs. Belfridge naturally had given Candice the dirtiest job, hoping to discourage her from any future "help," but it had exactly the opposite effect. She was on a kinky high, living out one of her favorite fantasies. Even tough she was the boss in reality, she intentionally had talked herself into a corner, and she couldn't back out of her promise to help without losing face in the eyes of the entire staff. Although it was artificially created, she felt a sense of being trapped in servitude, which fueled her submissive drive. While working in the bathrooms, she constantly caught her reflection in the mirrors. Each time she caught a glimpse of herself in that cute little dress, with her apron, rubber gloves, kneepads, sponges, and spray bottles, it set her off... especially when she remembered that the girl in the mirror still had her butt plugged. But she knew that she didn't have time to stare. She had to make progress. She nearly was finished with the second bathroom, and there were only fourteen more to go, not counting her own master bathroom. She was on her hands and knees scrubbing the tile behind the toilet when Mr. Wilson appeared in the doorway. "Miss Parker, Mr. Adams is waiting for you in the study. He says you two have an appointment for eleven o'clock." "GOD-MOTHER-FUCKIN'-DAMMIT!" Candice internally cursed herself. Her mind had been in the "maid zone" all morning, and she had completely forgotten her appointment. She rose up to her knees and turned to Mr. Wilson, banging her elbow on the porcelain in the process. "Please tell Mr. Adams I'll be right there." As Mr. Wilson grinned and left, Candice scrambled to remove her gloves and kneepads. As she quickly attempted to untie her apron's strings, she clumsily got them stuck in a knot. Cursing herself again, she realized that she couldn't keep Mr. Adams waiting, so she'd simply have to greet him in her full maid regalia. "Ah, Mr. Adams, I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting," smiled Candice, shaking his hand. She motioned for him to sit, and she seated herself in the chair next to him. "Not at all, Miss Parker. I'm actually a few minutes early, so it's I who should be apologizing," Mr. Adams politely lied. "It seems that I've caught you at a busy time." He clearly was referring to her maid's uniform, and it was the first time that Candice had seen Mr. Adams being visibly caught off-guard. Candice suddenly realized how dirty her apron had become, and she was afraid that she had disrespected Mr. Adams. "Yes, the mansion is short- staffed at the moment, so I decided to chip-in and help get the housework caught up. I was astonished to learn just how much work goes into maintaining a huge estate like this. Again, please accept my apology for greeting you without cleaning up first, but I've been so busy that I simply lost track of the time. I must confess that I've been overwhelmed since moving in." "Perfectly understandable, Miss Parker. It's no small task, and you certainly seem to have taken the proverbial bull by the horns. Thank you for taking the time to see me, and I won't take much of your valuable time. Mr. Simmons left one more thing for me to give you, and it was his specific instruction to wait until you had exactly two weeks to become acclimated to your new surroundings." "Two weeks already... it doesn't seem like it," observed Candice. "Although, it'll probably be closer to two years before I would consider myself acclimated." "Indeed," Mr. Adams smiled. "This briefcase is locked with a combination lock, and this sealed envelope presumably contains the combination, but that's just speculation on my part. I wasn't given any further instructions other than to deliver this to you two weeks after you had moved in. I can assure you that there won't be any additional surprises. This officially concludes my duties regarding Mr. Simmons' will." Candice was confused, but she tried not to show it. "Thank you Mr. Adams. No doubt Mr. Simmons wanted me to have a bit of time to formulate my questions before he provided the answers. He always had a knack for timing. But, before you go, I do have a couple of things on my mind." "Certainly, Miss Parker." "I'd like for your firm to continue to represent me and my estate in legal matters, and I want Mrs. Leung's firm to continue to manage my investments and taxes. Now that the transition is complete, I assume that I'll need to enter my own contracts with both of your firms." "Excellent! Thank you for your confidence in us, Miss Parker. I'll inform Mrs. Leung, and we can schedule a meeting to sign the client agreements." "Great! And another thing I wanted to ask you... I'm going to hire a chief of staff to help me manage the estate... well, to manage the estate for me, to be more accurate. This might not be your area of expertise, but I've never hired anyone before. Would you know, or know someone else who knows, how to go about posting a job opening for such a position? I wouldn't know where to start looking for qualified candidates to manage such a large estate." "Well," Mr. Adams explained, "Our law firm doesn't provide that type of service, but I do know someone at another firm that serves as a specialty employment agency, among other things. I could send you the contact information; or, if you'd prefer, I'd be glad to contact that agency on your behalf." "Oh, it would be great if you could look into that for me, Mr. Adams! I trust your judgment. In the meantime, I'll draft a description of the job duties and expectations for the candidates and send that to you." "If it suits you, Miss Parker, I'll try to arrange the meeting on the same day that you meet with Mrs. Leung and me to sign our agreements." "Perfect," beamed Candice. "Whatever day that all three of you are available is fine with me, so go ahead and schedule the meetings, and then let me know. I can be available anytime, and I promise that I won't wear an apron." The two laughed, and Candice walked Mr. Adams to the front door, where Mr. Wilson was already holding it open. She waved bye, and Mr. Wilson closed the door. Candice thanked Mr. Wilson, and apologized to him for not informing him that Mr. Adams would be arriving. Mr. Wilson was much better at his job than his employer was at hers, so he handled the situation without any difficulty. Besides, he had met Mr. Adams on multiple occasions. Candice took the satchel and envelope upstairs an locked them in a suitcase in her closet. The contents would have to wait. The bathrooms weren't going to clean themselves, and she already was behind schedule. As she hurried back downstairs, Candice encountered Mr. Wilson again, who informed her that the cook wanted a word with her at her earliest convenience. She went straight to the main kitchen, where the cook was preparing lunch for the staff. In addition to their annual salaries, health insurance, and generous employer contributions to their private retirement accounts, the staff also received room and board. The cook, who previously had been the Master Chef at a prestigious restaurant before being recruited by Mistress Simmons, prepared three meals a day for the staff, in addition to preparing meals for he Simmons' whenever they requested. The staff members also were free to prepare their own meals and snacks at any time in one of the two smaller kitchens. "You wanted to see me?" Candice asked, as she entered the main kitchen. "Yes, Miss Parker, but I gladly would've come to you." "Oh, don't worry about that. I was in-between tasks, so it was on my way. Please, sit down." "Don't get me wrong, Miss Parker. I've enjoyed working here for the past several years, and I'm well-compensated. I realize that you're still getting settled, but with the exception of a few nibbles this morning, you've yet to eat any meal that I've prepared. Is there something about the food that you don't like, or is something that I've said or done to offend you?" "No. As a matter of fact, I seem to be the one who's offending everyone today. By helping with the cleaning, I seem to be encroaching on the maids' territory. I completely forgot to tell the head butler, the one person who should be told, that a guest would be arriving. I kept my guest waiting because I lost track of time, then wore a filthy apron to greet him. Now to top it off, I've insulted you by unintentionally avoiding your cooking. You've done nothing wrong; I suppose I'm just not used to being wealthy. I don't know how to behave, and I can't seem to get out of my own way." "Now, don't I feel like a mean ol' bitch," said the cook, with a straight face. Candice burst out laughing, and the cook followed suit. "The staff lunch is being served at 12:30. Will you be joining them again? I'm serving halibut." "Oh, I'm sorry," whined Candice. "I've got to get caught up on my chores. That meeting threw me off my pace, and I won't face Mrs. Belfridge with only two bathrooms done. But I promise you that I'll actually make time tonight to sit down to a real dinner tonight." "Is there anything special that I can prepare for you? Do you have a favorite type of food?" "Well, my favorite is Japanese food." As soon as Candice said that, she regretting putting the cook on the spot. "That settles it, then. What time do want your dinner served?" "Oh, well... when is everyone else eating?" The cook smiled and leaned toward Candice, as though she were about to tell a secret to her best friend. "As you said, Miss Parker, you're not used to being wealthy. The Simmons' and their guests never dined with the staff. They told me how many meals they wanted, what they wanted, when they wanted their meals served, and I made sure there were at least two maids on duty to serve the meals and clean up afterward. For large gatherings, additional maids would be serving, and dinner would be served in the main dining room, but the Simmons' usually dined in the smaller dining room, nearer the kitchen. Sometimes, they would have meals brought to them in their bedroom, the study, or their offices." She continued, "Miss Parker, collectively, it's our job to wait on you. Cooking for the staff is secondary; I'm primarily here to prepare YOUR meals, and I'm also accustomed to cooking for large numbers of guests. The maids work for YOU; you don't work for them or with them. They expect to serve you the meals that I prepare, and they are well trained and well compensated for it. I hope I haven't overstepped my bounds or been indelicate in what I've said; but the longer you do things such as eat with the staff, wear that uniform, and scrub bathrooms, the more difficult it will be for you to distance yourself once all of the staff positions have been filled. Please, let us serve you in the small dining room tonight. I promise you'll enjoy it." Candice reluctantly agreed, and ordered a Japanese dinner to be served at 9:00 that night, allowing the cook to surprise her with the specific food. Still absorbing the cook's lecture, she went back to her chores, and worked straight through to 8:30, giving herself barely enough time for a quick shower and change of clothes before dinner. She was laser focused on her work the entire time, the cook's words having thrown a blanket on her fantasy vibe. As Candice sat down to the dinner table, she was both exhausted and famished. Mrs. Belfridge personally waited on Candice, and the cook even checked in on her. It was the best meal that she ever had, with the best service she'd ever experienced, but she was too worn out to fully enjoy it. That night, Candice didn't sleep very well. She was still a stranger in her own home.