Perils of a Maid

Mel

The phone rang, and I saw that it was my temping agency.  "Here's a great job for you," came the voice of my contact there.  He told me the salary I'd earn, and I whistled.  That was far higher than anything I had been paid so far.

"What sort of a job is it?" I asked.  His reply astonished me.  "A m‑maid?" I stammered.  "What sort of job is that for a university graduate?  And why on earth are they paying so much?"

He explained that it involved working for a very wealthy eccentric called Fred Watt who had a fetish for blondes, and he liked them to wear a classic French maid's outfit with stockings.  "But don't worry, I promise he'll never lay a finger on you.  We've had a girl there for over a year with no hint of a problem, and she's only leaving because her father has just died and so she needs to go back to Sweden.  The work as a maid is very far from laborious, just some cleaning and making the bed.  He has a cook as well."

Well, I thought about it for a bit.  It seemed so stupid to work as a maid in fancy dress so some old buffer could ogle me, but it was hard to resist the money, more than I was likely to earn in any other job.  Reluctantly, I agreed.  So the next day I drove out into the countryside, and soon found an imposing mansion surrounded by a huge garden with a high wall.  The wrought iron gates were wide open, so I drove in and parked.  Somewhat nervously, I got out and rang the doorbell.  Soon, one of the big double doors swung open and I was greeted by a smartly dressed elderly man.  He beamed delightedly.  "Come in my dear, come in.  You look perfect.  Let me show you to a room where you can change."

He led me up a marble staircase to a small bedroom and left me.  There was a complete set of clothes, including underwear, so I took off everything I was wearing.  I put on the frilly white nylon blouse and matching panties and suspender belt.  I had never worn stockings before, but I worked out how to put on the tan seamed pair and fasten the suspender clips.  The outfit was completed with a short-sleeved and very short black dress, frilly white apron and shiny black stilettos with towering heels.  They all fitted perfectly, and I wondered how he could have known my size.  Tottering slightly on the heels, higher than anything I had ever worn, I went downstairs again.  My new boss stood at the foot of the stairs, clearly in a state of rapture.  "You are indeed a sight for sore eyes, the loveliest thing I ever saw," he enthused.

Soon he had me on my hands and knees with a dustpan and brush.  He stood behind me, no doubt able to see my panties.  Well, it was no more than I expected; I ignored his presence.  When I went up a ladder to dust the top of a bookcase, he was at the foot of the ladder.

Thus life continued for a while.  Sometimes we played chess; I always beat him.  I was getting increasingly irritated by his ogling, but I did need the money, so I stuck to it.  The cook was good company when I had a break.  Scarcely to my surprise, she was an attractive blonde in stockings, a miniskirt and stilettos.  Then one day, when it was the cook's day off, Mr Watt had to go to a meeting.  He told me to vacuum clean under the dining table with a small portable cleaner.  That meant a lot of crawling around on my hands and knees, but I was relieved that he would not be there to stare at my panties while I was doing it.  The cleaner was quite noisy, so it would drown out what happened next.

As I was working, two men broke in.  One of them entered the dining room, and he must have been treated to a spectacular upskirt view.  The first thing I knew about it was when a leather-gloved hand covered my mouth and then a finger and thumb pinched my nose.  I tried to scream, but little sound came out, and anyway as the house was detached and in large grounds, nobody was near enough to hear me.  I dropped the vacuum cleaner, and an arm went around me, trapping my arms to my sides as I was lifted into the air.  I struggled furiously and waved my legs, but it was futile; he was far too strong for me to escape.

"Here, you won't believe what I found," he called out.

Another man rushed in.  He was wearing a ski mask, as presumably my captor did, so I could not see the expression on his face, but it must have been one of surprise and delight.  "Cor blimey," he replied.  "Can we take her with us?"

"You bet," replied my captor.  "Help me tie her up."

The vacuum cleaner continued to make a noise, unheeded, as they stuffed a handkerchief into my mouth and held it in by wrapping several turns of black duct tape tightly around my head.  They tied my wrists behind my back, tied my legs together at my knees and ankles, and then joined my wrists and ankles in a hogtie.  I was left rolling around impotently on the carpet as they looted the house.  Finally, they came back for me.  Picking me up, they carried me out to a van parked next to my own car and threw me into the back of the van.

"Yep, this key fits this car," said one of the men.  I'll drive it and you take the van."  They were stealing my car!  They must have taken my handbag and my phone too.  I struggled and mmpphhed loudly, but they just laughed and closed the van doors.  Off we went at high speed.  Being unable to use my arms or legs to hold myself still, I rolled around in the van every time we went around a bend, bumping first into the loot they had taken and then into the side of the van.  It was a relief when we stopped.  They carried me out and into their hideaway, evidently a disused warehouse.  Dropping me on a table, they cut my bonds and then tied me spread eagle to the table.  My dress was pushed right up, exposing my frilly white panties.  What were they going to do to me now?

"You know, girly," said the man who had grabbed me.  "Seeing as how you vanished after that burglary, people might think you were an accomplice."  I stiffened in shock.  Yes, he was right of course.  But what could I do about it?

"We're fair-minded guys," he continued.  "We'll give you a chance."  What did he mean?  "Have you ever heard of a Hitachi wand?" he asked, brandishing something at me.  I'd heard of them, but never used one.  Why did he have one?

"Now," he continued, "I'll use this on you.  If you're a good girl and don't cum, we'll let you go.  We'll keep your dress and shoes as souvenirs, and we'll leave you hogtied and gagged by the roadside somewhere for someone to find you.  Then you can go to the police and they'll probably believe you had nothing to do with the burglary.  But if you do cum, we'll think of something else to do with you."

He switched on the Hitachi wand and started rubbing it on my crotch.  Before long, I felt it starting to affect me.  Struggle as I might, there was no way to escape.  I thought the most off-putting things I could, to try to distract my mind from the sensations flooding through me, but there was no way to overcome biology, and after a few minutes I orgasmed.  My captor laughed in triumph.

What would happen to me now?

END

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