Marcia smiled at me from the sofa as I brought the two cups of tea into the living room.
“Thank you hun,” she said, “nothing quite like a mug of tea after a long day’s work.”
She slipped her black heels off and put her tan-stockinged feet up on the leather footstool as I sat in the chair opposite.
“Mmm, that’s good Jay,” she said sipping her tea, “so how’s the job-hunting going?”
“Still no luck,” I replied, putting my tea on the coffee table, “just doesn’t seem to be anything out there, I’m sure I’ll get lucky soon though.”
I’d moved into Marcia’s four-bed detached a month before, her husband had left six months ago and she needed a lodger to help with the mortgage, I was living in a bedsit at the time in a rough part of town and needed somewhere a bit more comfortable and out of the city. Marcia’s isolated house in the country was the perfect peaceful retreat, the only problem being getting work out in the ‘sticks’.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said.
“The housing benefit you get more than covers a good part of the mortgage and your income support means that you have money to feed yourself and get the things you need. So why don’t you just work for me?”
“How do you mean?” I said.
“Well I’m at work nine to five and to be honest I’d like to just be able to come home and put my feet up,” her stockings hissed lightly as she crossed her ankles, the hem of her black, knee length, business-suit skirt riding up a little.
“It would be great if you could do the housework, ironing, a bit of diy as needed, even have a meal ready for me when I get in. What do you think?”
I thought about it a moment. I could cook for sure, was fastidiously tidy, could iron my own shirts and my construction back-ground meant I could handle a variety of jobs…it sounded like a good idea, at least in the short-term and would take the pressure off me to get work for a while…
“Are you sure?” I said, “I think that sounds like a plan, it would certainly make me feel better to be contributing more than just money and sitting around the place.”
“That’s great,” she said smiling, “you’ll be like my own little housewife.”
“And if you do a good job I might even keep you,” she narrowed her eyes, pouted her lips and winked at me.
It made me shiver slightly.
“I’ll do anything you want me too,” I chuckled slightly nervously and drank my tea straight down.
“Hmmm…” she replied, her voice a little more firm now, “anything?”
“Well within reason,” I chuckled, I was feeling slightly anxious suddenly.
“Good,” she declared, “that’s settled then! Take these cups out to the dishwasher and pop the telly on for me hun.”
I bowed dramatically and giggled, “Of course Ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” she said, ” Oh no I don’t like Ma’am, makes me sound old, you shall call me Miss.” And winked at me.
“Yes Miss,” I replied and pressed the button on the remote control, still chuckling nervously.
Marcia was thirty, nine years younger than me and very fit, slim, probably a size ten.
She stood about five nine in her stockinged feet so was quite tall, her long, black, hair tumbled stylishly in loose ringlets, her make-up perfect and a mix of dark, kohled eyes and glossy red lips and nails, in stark contrast to her naturally pale skin.
When she wasn’t working at the law firm where she was a partner, she was in the gym. She had excellent taste in everything from the fine wines in the cellar, plush furniture and beautiful home, to her sharp business suits and new Mercedes soft-top.
Quite what she thought of a working class bloke like me I didn’t know, but she had welcomed me from the start when I answered the ad’ in the local paper, making me feel really at home.
If a little housework was the price of living in the comfort I found myself in I considered it a small price to pay, in fact it would be a breeze…
While I was busy in the kitchen putting the dishes and cups in the washer I heard her go upstairs and a few moments later the sound of the shower running.
I sat back in my chair just as she came down, showered and smelling fresh having changed into a black silk kimono decorated with embroidered dragons and flowers and flat, black shoes with little bows on.
“That’s better,” she said stretching out and lying back on the leather sofa.
“Do me a huge favour would you Jay?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Pop up to my bedroom, get the washing out of the laundry basket and put a wash on for me?”
“No problem,” I smiled getting up from my seat, it seemed my new position was to start immediately.
“You’ll need to do a delicates and a colour wash,” she said.
“I’ve let it build up a bit. Do the delicates first and it can be drying while you put the other wash on.”
It was the first time I had been in her bedroom, it was huge with an en-suite shower room off to the right. The wrought iron framed double bed was sumptuously bedded with a purple duvet set and four large pillows, the modern black furniture was set off by the lilac walls and reflected in the mirrored wardrobes that ran the length of the wall opposite the bottom of the bed, a couple of japanese ink drawings hung stylishly on the walls.
I went to the wicker basket underneath the flat-screen tv on the wall by the window and began sorting her clothes into three piles on the bed, whites, darks and delicates.
It was clear that she always wore matching underwear, expensive bra, knicker and suspender sets in black, purple and red and it would appear nylons to match, stockings only, no sign of tights. I picked up the armful of slips, nighties and undies and headed for the stairs.
It was then I realised that I hadn’t been in either of the spare rooms, quietly I crossed the long landing and opened one of the doors.
This was obviously a storage / cum dressing room as there was no bed, boxes and suitcases lined the back wall under the draped windows. It too had the long, mirrored, built-in cupboards. On a large pine dresser was her extensive make-up collection.
I slipped open the four deep drawers in succession and found each one filled with expensive nylon and silk underwear, slips, petticoats and pyjama suits. On inspection the wardrobes were home to her designer clothes and expansive shoe collection.
Quietly I slipped out of the room and tried the door handle to the room next door, curiously it was locked…
“Are you ok Jay?” Marcia called up.
“Just coming,” I answered taking to the stairs quickly.
As I entered the living room she was painting her toenails in her trademark red polish, a bottle of expensive red wine sat on the table, unopened, with two glasses and a corkscrew.
“You took your time,” she chuckled lightly, “thought you’d got lost.”
“Oh,” I smiled, “was just sorting the washing out. Shall I open this?”
“Please hun,” she said. I opened the wine and poured her a glass, putting it on a small table that I pulled out from the nest of three by the open fireplace.
“Not having one?” she queried.
“Well I didn’t want to assume,” I said, “and to be honest I don’t handle alcohol very well, I get squiffy quite quickly and end up a giggling hopeless mess.”
She finished painting her little toenail and put the varnish back into the make-up box on the floor next to her, her nails perfect and picked up her glass.
“You really are well-mannered you know, that’s nice,” she smiled, studying me.
“And I don’t mind one bit sharing a couple of glasses with a giggling mess. Go on, I’ll pour you one while you pop the washing down to the utility room.”
“Ok, thanks,” I said relaxing naturally in her friendly company.
As I crossed the room one of her stockings hanging from the bundle snagged on the corner of the coffee table and they weren’t the cheap ones from the supermarket, all of her underwear was expensive designer…
“Oops, sorry,” I cringed.
“Oh check it when you’ve washed them,” she replied, “if they’ve run I’ll just bin them.”
With the wash on in the cellar utility room I came back up and sat in the chair, enjoying the fine red and chatting with Marcia.
She told me how her ex was a chauvinist pig of a man who expected her to not only do her job but feed, pamper and run around clearing up after him. She said she had vowed the day he left for yet another younger model that she wouldn’t let another man humiliate her like that again.
The wine was going down well and we were into the second bottle when I heard the shrill pip of the tumbler finsihing its dryer program. I stood to get up and wobbled a bit, the wine going straight to my head.
Marcia giggled, “Be careful going down those stairs hun.”
I chuckled, my head a little foggy, a warm relaxed feeling inside and brought the washing up. I was on my way to fold it and put it on her bed when she stopped me.
“Oooh,” she smiled and drained her glass in one swallow sitting up, “did that stocking survive?”
I put the dry washing on the coffee table and sifted through the nylon and silk looking for the black stocking, now feeling very light-headed from the effects of the wine.
“You’ll never find a stocking with a run in like that hun,” Marcia said, her voice light and amused, “You’ll need to take each one, put your hand in and roll it up your arm, then you’ll see if it’s damaged”
She smiled and poured us both another glass of wine.
Feeling a little unsteady on my feet I sat down and seperated the black stockings, three pairs, from the rest of the pile, rolling up the sleeve of my shirt.
“Just pop your shirt off Jay,” Marcia directed, her voice a little firmer, “then you can roll it right up your arm.”
I smiled a little drunkenly and did as she asked, rolling each stocking up my arm in turn looking for a tear in the glossy nylon.
“You have a lovely slim body,” Marcia remarked, “almost girlish in fact. Have some more wine hun.”
I picked up my glass and drank, a black stocking rolled up the length of my arm from fingers to shoulder.
“Hmmm,” she said quietly, “does that feel nice against your skin?”
I had to admit that it did…the nylon and lycra mix feeling cool and snug on my arm. I tested the last stocking and was relieved to find all three pairs intact.
“It would feel a lot nicer without all that hair though and look better too,” she laughed.
“Why don’t you go get showered, but before you do, rub this over your chest, arms and legs and wait fifteen minutes.”
She pulled a tube that looked like shower gel out of her make-up box and came over, perching on the side of the chair. Her expensive perfume was musky and slightly overpowering…
“Here,” she said, “it goes on like this.”
Unscrewing the lid she she squeezed the tube and rubbed the creamy gel onto my chest, arms and belly, it smelled faintly of perfume and something bleachy.
“There you go,” she said handing me the tube, “now go do your legs and hop in the shower. Wait fifteen minutes remember.”
She pulled me out of the chair and guided me upstairs to the main bathroom. The alcohol had kicked in and I was feeling quite helpless but happy to go along with her request.
“And don’t forget your ‘boy-bits and pits’,” she said laughing, as she closed the bathroom door on me.
After I had rubbed the cream all over my legs and round my balls I waited.
My skin started to get quite warm until eventually I had to wash it off, I jumped into the shower and enjoyed the hot water washing the cream off my body.
I watched as I soaped up, all my body hair coming off and going down the plughole. When I stepped out and dried myself I found I was completely smooth all over, my body looking even more girlish and soft.
On the toilet seat next to the shower I found a note and a pair of silk pink panties, edged in white lace. The note said ‘Put these on for me hun, you’ll like the way they feel’.
Part of me was a bit confused, she wanted me to wear panties? But part of me was curious, I decided to play along with her sense of humour and slipped the cool panties up my legs, feeling my cock stiffening and bulging in the tight fabric…
“If you’re done come down and let me see,” Marcia called up the stairs.
Blushing, I went down and walked shyly into the living room, my cheeks burning red.
“Mmmm, very pretty,” she said from the sofa, “turn round and let me see your bum.”
I turned round, thoroughly embarassed and displayed my pantied arse to her, cock hard but held tightly inside the knickers.
She got up and ran her hand over the silk before lightly smacking my left buttock and laughed.
“Oh you do look a treat,” she came round and faced me, running her hand over my stiff cock through the panties, “oooh and excited too I see…”
She had changed her soft flat shoes for a pair of patent black slingbacks with a four inch heel, making her just slightly taller than me. Her kimono was was open loosely and she was wearing a black lace bustier which pushed her perfect breasts up firmly and a matching deep suspender belt with six silver clips, black lace thong knickers and black silk stockings.
Her deep black eyes looked into mine and she smirked…
“I think we need to finish the job,” she said wickedly.
From the table she picked up a matching pink and lace-trimmed bra and slipped it over my arms before doing it up at the back and slipping a pair of soft breast enhancers into the cups.
“Sit on the floor,” she directed quite firmly.
I did as I was told as she took a bottle of bright pink nail polish from her box. Quickly and deftly she painted my finger and toenails after trimming them into neat rounded shapes.
“Stand up,” her voice was quite stern now. I obeyed immediately.
Marcia took a pair of glossy, white nylon stockings from the table and slipped them up my legs, they felt tight and smooth and oddly cool against my skin before fastening me into a deep, matching pink and lace suspender belt attaching the stockings to the four pink metal clips.
She went behind the black leather sofa and pulled out a bag with a box in it and stood in front of me taking the box from the bag.
“I was shopping at lunchtime and went into my favourite shoe shop,” she said calmly, “I saw these and just had to buy them.”
Marcia opened the box and pulled out a pair of patent pink kitten heels with open toes and pink leather bows on the backs.
“Seems I got the wrong size,” she winked, “should fit you though…”
“But I’m a seven,” I said blushing and feeling vulnerable dressed in pink girly undies, the wine making my head fuzzy.
“I know,” she said, “I checked your shoes yesterday…”
It dawned on me that she had planned tonight in advance and now I was slightly drunk and dressed in her underwear and completely helpless. She slipped the shoes onto my stockinged feet, the pink nail polish just showing through the toe of the nylons.
“There,” she said, “don’t you look pretty. My own little housewife.”
She ran her hands up my nyloned legs, smoothing the stockings and slipped her hand into my panties, clenching my hard cock firmly.
“How perfect,” she said, “a housewife and maid to do my chores and a hard, hairless cock for me to use as and when I want to. I bought some other things yesterday that I think I am going to need to make sure you do as I tell you. A good sissy wife should be an obedient one of course…”
She pulled me by my cock towards the stairs, I tottered in the kitten heels following her up, her tight arse wiggling under the silk of her kimono. My stockings rasped as my thighs brushed each other, stiffening my cock further, both our heels clicking on the laminate floor of the landing. She took a key from her kimono and stood outside the door that I had found locked.
“This will be your room from now on, you will only come into my room when I tell you to, to fuck me, or to clean it and get my laundry, understood?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Yes what,” she asked sternly.
“Errm, yes Miss,” I replied, humiliated and blushing.
“Good girl Jane,” she said.
“Yes you heard right, you will be called Jane from now on.”
“Yes Miss,” I answered, my head in a whirl.
I was now her maid and housewife, her property and it was clear that I was expected to obey her completely.
She unlocked the door and pulled me in. Inside the room was decorated pink, with pink drapes and white nets, pink bedding on the white, iron-framed bed and a white, french-style dresser with mirror and pink-cushioned, white high back chair. On the dresser was make up and a stand with earrings, perfume and bangles on and a pink hairdryer next to a blonde wig tied in a ponytail on a wig stand.
In the corner of the room was a white, wooden rocking chair with pink leather straps on the arms and front legs, on the seat was a nine-inch black rubber dildo glued by its base so that it was standing stiff and upright.
“I have thrown away all of your male clothes while you were in the shower and am keeping your wallet in a safe place, you will not be allowed keys and will be locked in the house every time I leave. More often than not you will be restrained in some way that amuses me. Trust me, I have a good imagination,” Marcia said smiling at me.
“In these drawers and the mirrored wardrobes you will find your new undies and dresses. I will be buying some more shoes for you tomorrow now that you are my new maid. You will wear only what I tell you to wear and I will teach you to do your own make-up, again you will do it how I want it done and you will keep your body smooth, hairless and smelling nice with the perfume I have provided. When your hair grows longer I will take you to have it dyed blonde and done professionally, until then you will wear this wig which you will pin in place each morning.”
I swallowed and nodded, the full implications of what was happening dawning on me, I was to be her humiliated male maid and slut to use as she wished and now I was trapped without my clothes or wallet.
“Do you understand me Jane?”
“Yyyes Miss,” I stumbled.
“Good girl, now sit at the dresser.”
I sat still while she put the wig on me, a pink ribbon holding the ponytail in place as she showed me how to pin it securely to my own hair. She stood me up and went to the wardrobe taking a pink puffball-sleeved dress with a short puffball hem out and held it for me to step into.
She pulled it up, the net lining of the skirt slipping over my nyloned legs. I let out a little moan and felt damp in my silken panties.
“Mmmm, that’s a good girl, you will work on softening your voice, I like to hear you moan for me,” said Marcia.
I looked at myself in the mirror as she tied the corsetry on the back of the dress and tied a white satin apron over the pink dress with its white lace trimmed sleeves and hem.
I looked at the blonde, ponytailed maid in her pink dress and apron, white stockings and pink kitten heels and barely recognised myself. The silk underwear holding me tightly.
“Now,” she said, opening the white wooden ottoman at the foot of my bed…
“As I said you will be kept restrained, both while working and at night, when you will sleep tied to the bed. If you disobey or displease me you will be strapped into the rocking chair though I may just do so at any time for my amusement. The dildo is a vibrator so you will be in for an uncomfortable time if you piss me off, understood?”
“Yes miss,” I replied fearfully.
“Good,” she said smacking the back of my leg sharply so that I got the message, “if you remain a good girl and do as you are told I will look after you and you may even receive treats if I think you have earned them. If you are bad you will be punished.”
She pulled what looked like a length of chain out of the box followed by a pink leather collar with silver rings and a buckle on it. Standing behind me she buckled the deep collar around my throat and put a small silver padlock through the buckle so that I couldn’t remove it.