Sima began training. Tales of the Maid begin.
The next day, while she was at work, Lee bought Sima a saucy little French Maid uniform. He got the whole nine yards: the heeled sandals, black hose and garter, short skirt, apron, sheer pleated blouse, elbow length satin gloves, choker, sequined cap and black velvet serving tray with silver wire edge. When she came by the next evening, he presented it to her. He led her to the bedroom where she saw it laid out on the bed. As she stood looking he said, “This stays in the drawer right by the entry. From now on, whenever you come over I want you to strip at the door, fold up your clothes neatly, put on your uniform and pose for inspection.” Sima looked at Lee, trying to judge whether this was some kind of joke, or if he was serious. It didn’t take but a moment to realize he means every word. She took a quick breath.
“Okay” said Sima looking at the ensemble with a mix of amusement and curiosity.
“Mmm, no Sima.” Lee puta hand at the back of her neck. “Bend forward and put your hands on the bed.” Sima hesitated a moment and he started pressing firmly at the back of her neck. Slowly she bent her knees and started leaning forward. “No Sima, from the waist. Lean forward from the waist and put your hands on the bed.” Sima stood strait and then awkwardly did as he’d directed. She felt her tights and calves stretching and more critically, her short skirt rode up enough to reveal the rounded bottoms of her ass cheeks. She got the point.
Lee stood behind Sima savoring her compliance and her taut muscles; the framing of her cunt squeezed between her thighs. She’d hurt no underwear. This was good. This was progress. He lifted her skirt and folded it onto the small of her back. Now her bare ass was completely uncovered. He slapped her bottom three times, hard, rapid, making Sima gasp even though she’d anticipated the spanking. Then he let his fingers slide along the lip of her wet pussy lips and smiled. This going to be fun, he thought.
‘Sima, do you see how, when you say ‘okay,’ you see how that implies that it’s ‘alright’ with you to do what I’m telling you to do? You see how the ‘okay’ basically says you have the option to disagree with what I’ve told you to do? Right?” He let his fingers venture a little deeper into her slit, feel her shiver at the invasion.
“So, that’s not the head space I want from you, slut. The proper response when I tell you to do something is, ‘Yes, Sir.’ Is that clear?” Sima looked back over her shoulder, a little shocked by his instruction. Lee looked at her, displeased with the reticence written in her face. “Sima, I can see you’re not quite with the program yet, so let me put it in terms you’ll feel comfortable with.” Lee paused a moment, looking up at the ceiling, thinking about what to say.
“Right. Okay.” He slapped Sima’s ass to get her attention out of her cunt and focused on his words again. “Sima, just respond to any order I give you as though …well, let’s see … just pretend you’re squatting on that cock in that urinal again. You’ve got that load of cum dripping out of your cunt and two more were dripping off your face. You had the third dude’s cock in your hand and he told you to put it in your mouth. Remember how you put your mouth right onto his cock? You remember that moment?” Sima certainly did remember that moment. Goose flesh ran down her spine, followed by a flush of heat from her arousal.
“Uh, yes Sir, I do.”
“Great! Remember that moment now, how you didn’t hesitate even an instant. He told you he wanted that thing in your mouth and you just put your mouth onto that cock. Sima, when I tell you to do something, anything, I want to feel You are that kind of eager to please me.”
Sima hung her head and breathed out slowly as her cheeks flamed bright red. The floor fell out from beneath her belly. “God, he really was there!” Sima remembered with crystal clarity the events he’d just described. Shame flooded her at the vivid memory of her utter compliance when the guy had gruffly ordered her to start sucking his dick. And clearly, Lee had seen her instant and eager compliance. His reference to that moment was devastating: what wouldn’t she do to experience that kind of shameful use?
Lee started spanking her ass again and Sima was clenching her butt cheats to help manage the sing pain. She was still feeling very guilty about the bathroom sex and had been nervous all day about how it would go this evening. This was the first time she’d seen him again after that night, after her punishment and she didn’t want to do anything to upset him. She liked the uniform idea, actually, and had been looking forward to an evening of being the naughty maid. But this was the second time he’d told her to call him ‘Sir’ and she wasn’t sure where this was going. And now he was punishing her again. Part of her wanted to protest, but again, she didn’t want toget him upset and … dammit, the spanking; his dominant manner … it was all making her really wet again. “What the hell?” she thought. “Just make it part of the French Maid thingy: the Master of the House disciplining the help.” Lee paused after ten strokes.
“Does that resonate, slut? Do you get the response I’m looking for from now on, when I tell you to do something?” Sima shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying to reduce the burning from her whipping. She whimpered slightly as her pussy lips slide freely past each other. Her juices were leaking from her fuck hole and her clip was swollen and sensitive. Oh yeah, the whole scene resonated for her! It was weird but she couldn’t deny how aroused she was feeling being bent over by him, exposed and punished, being trained to be his … Sima Couldn’t finish the thought. She didn’t know what Lee wanted her to be – other than compliant.
“Yes, Sir, I apologize. I understand your order and in the future, Iwill do my best to comply so that you won’t need to punish me.” Sima stayed bent over the bed, waiting.
He hit her again. “Well that’s a start. What did Machiavelli say? “Tis better to be feared, me Lord, than loved.” Sima, you need to understand that I punish behavior that displeases me. Like saying ‘okay’ instead of ‘Yes, Sir!’ Punishments will be part of being with me. If that’s not alright with you, then you should walk out the door right now. But regardless of your choice, please understand that I’d rather you show eagerness because you want me to be pleased with you and not simply so I won’t punish you.” All the while, Lee was struggling her red cheeses, the heat of her whipped flesh making his dick stir. He felt Sima relax under his cares and feel hopeful. “Anyway Sima, if you’re going to stay, put on the uniform.” Sima didn’t hesitate.
“Yes, Sir!” She knew she needed time to think things through but she wasn’t ready to leave, even if she didn’t know if she’d come back. Lee had asked if all this ‘resonated.’ She had to admit that it did, in ways she didn’t really understand but that she clearly could’t deny.
Lee left the bedroom and sat in his comfy chair in the living room, rubbing his stiff cock while he waited for Sima to come out. When she did, he was happy to see she was in the uniform, and not simply getting ready to leave. He held up a hand and, finger twirling in the universal sign, had her pirouette. He scowled. “It’s too much. Ditch the blouse and skirt and try again.” She went back into the bedroom and then reappeared. Lee stood and walked around her this time, touching her lightly along her spine, just beneath her nipples; ran nails down the middle of her taut belly to her navel. He skipped past the apron tie, lifted the skimpy square of black fabric and lace and Continued a path to just above her clitoral hood. He saw her belly clench, heard her hiss. Goose flesh erupted all over her body and he smiled.
“That will do, Sima. Wear just that from now on, but keep the two other pieces available. Now, I want you to go fetch me a gin and tonic with lots of ice. But let’s have it served on your little silver tray.” It was then that Sima paid closer attention the device. The tray had two sets of ties. Where the edge rested against her torso, there were Velcro strraps that wrapped around her waist. At the front of the tray two chains were attached. The chains ended in a set of clover clamps. Lee secured the Velcro tabs quickly. Then he came around to her front and gently brought both clamps up to her nipples. He looked in her eyes a brief moment, waiting to see if she would rebel. Sima eyes widened as he pulled the chains taught and she hissed as he set both clamps to her nipples simulateneously. He stepped back to assess his handy work.
“Oh, that is so fetching, slut. I really like the look of that. Now, go fetch me the drink.”
Sima was trying hard to simply ignore the pain. She wasn’t quite winningyet, but she didn’t wait for victory. She turned, winning, and headed for the kitchen, thinking about his desire to see eagerness, to feel her wanting his pleasure. She hurried into the kitchen. She sublimated the pain from her nipples by focusing on mixing the drink. She groaned slightly. She’d got on top of the pain in her nipples but setting the drink on the tray set off a fresh round of tight pinching pain. She breathed rapidly, fighting the urge to rub her nipples, fearful she’d end up ripping the clamps off if she put her hands near them. When she finally managed to get back on top of the burning pinch, she carefully walked to Lee with the drink balanced on the felted tray. By the time she got there, seeing his pleased expression, she was almost able to forget the weight of the tall glass pulling on her nipples.
Lee didn’t dawdle. There would be time to dawdle in the future he thought, amused. He removed the drink quickly and took a sip.
“Very good, Sima, but one more lime twist in the future, well squeezed. And always rub a bit of the lime on the rim and then onto your nipples, too. Like this.” Lee fished the little green wedge out of the icy drink. Sima moved close to the side of the chair and bent her knees, trying to give him better access to her nipples. Lee took the wedge and smelled it firmly all over her erect buds and the pink areoles. Already firm, Sima’s nipples turned white and rock hard and aching when the cold citrus juice hit them. She shivered very lightly as he worked the wedges all over them.
When he was done, he plopped the green wedge back in his drink and lifted it from the tray. Lee reached up and caught one of the clamps and used it to pull her towards him. Sima bent forward – at the wait Lee noticed, quirking his lips. It was a little awkward, but her breasts were full and pointed and he managed to suckle each nipple around the clamps, appreciating how the slightly musky oils expressed by her breast tissues blended with, and melted the tart hit of the lime and alcohol.
“Mmmm, yes, just like that in the future, understanding?”
“Yes, Sir.” Sima stood, belly tight from the stimulation of her nipples and waited for more instruction. The icy/hot of the limes and then Lee’s warm tongue had juices of an entirely different type oozing between her thighs. Lee noticed her squirm a bit. “Oh, and Sima, always stand at attention with fingers laced behind your back and your tights spread wide enough that you can’t stand there rubbing your pussy lips together.”
Sima flushed, embarrassed to have been so obvious, aroused to be put so much on display, her pussy made so explicitly available. She widened her Stance, linked her fingers loosely. Her shoulders swiveled back; her breasts thrust forward proud and firm, nipples still glistening from the mood of his saliva.
“No, no, no! Not like some bowlegged cowgirl. Christ, you look like you’ve just been fucked by the whole bunk house. No Sima,Not like the slut we already know you are. Try for some subtlety, slut! Merely the hint of an invitation. Enough to see daylight; to let the warm spice waft up, not the juice spill out. Not so wide that the maid could ever be accused of trying to seduce the Master of the House. No, never! Just wide enough though, that the flat of his hand can always slide unbidden between her cunt lips … like this.”
Sima moaned as Lee’s rigid fingers slide deftly between her parting lips. He sawed back and forth slowly a few times, his fingers grew slippery, coated with her juices. Sima struggled to stay upright; to remain in place; in form; knees bent slightly, not locked, not sagging. She struggled most however to keep from throwing her thighs wide open, hoping he might force those slick fingers clear up her cunt.
“That’s good, Sima. Like you don’t dare to acknowledge the liberties being taken, because a good girl of vitamin would of course then be compelled to quit her position at the Manse. She knows that could cause her descent into a truly mean condition. Better to be used occasionally by one clean, generous and not so demanding Master, than be forced to prostitute herself to base hordes in back alleys or in some filters whosehouse.”
Lee knew of course, that Sima would probably prefer the latter fate. He’d watched her nostrils flare while describing “that fate worse than death,” saw the flush spread across her chest and the slight quivering in her thighs. He continued to oh-so-slowly slide fingers through her slit, starting high now, making the lightest of contact with her hooded clip, then cutting a deft semi-circle through the clef, ending the run with fingertips grazing her anus. Lee continued talking, spinning his tale in the dim light of the living room. Sima stood beside him listening, worse than naked, tingling, barely breathing, eyes vacant.
“But the maid had misjudged her Master,” Lee continued. “He had tastes less simple than she’d assumed. He took his pleasure of her liberally. And though she feigned always to be unaware of his liberties, as though the pretense could wash away the shade she felt at his use, He showed no hesitation whatsoever. He took her with complete confidence of her assent, with no slightest hint of shame or dissembling. The entire household knew; many even witnessed him having her, since he took her in every room of the house at one time or Another and cared not who might witness him rodding her cunt with his ample prick. Nor could they fail to hear his moans of pleasure as his seed jetted into her young tight cunt. Nothing was ever said. But she knew that all the other house staff were aware she was his household slut, had watched more than once as she was rutted by the Master. To her shame, the maid found herself becoming eager for his constant liberties and she Couldn’t deny that she’d began responding to her abuse with sounds of undeniable password.
Then one day the Master bid that she bringswith her a flask of his favored drink, with cup, and had her follow him to the stables. He sat in the heavy leather chair found there, so that squires could assist in putting on and pulling off his stiff riding boots. His hand found its way to his favored position, four fingers deep into her cunny. Despite the invasion, the maid compiled when ordered by him to pour his drink. As she poured though, she heard a noise. She finished the pour and looked up to where her Master’s eyes had traveled.
The Head Groomsman had entered with one of the younger squires, both walking almost silently on the rotted hay and dung littering the stable floor. She looked curiously back to her Master; saw him nod slightly at the two men and her womb grew tight. No! He wouldn’t! They wouldn’t! They couldn’t do this!
But they did. The Master’s hand shot up into her deeply, pinning her in place so that she danced on tip toe. She looked from down to his face and found nothing there but eager determineation, deep lust and utter confidence. She dared not refuse her disgrace. She looked back at the groomsmen. The Head Groomsman was devastatingly handsome, thick chestnut hair greying at the temples, early 50’s, deep chested from a life spent breaking, and training horses, mucking stalls and bruiting about enormous bundles of hay and fodder. It was also he, she thought, her womb lurching, who choreographed studying of the mares.
Just yesterday, she’d been helping the Laundress gather in the dry bedding from the clothes line before a freak rainstorm could ruin it. And she’d stood in awe, looking towards the corral, witnessing a calmion mounting a mare in her heat. The calmion had recovered up, his massive organ stiff and swwaying, spearing blindly to find the mare’s cleft. The Groomsman had sidled up so as not to spook the animals and had deftly reached between them and guided the stallions monstrously thick and throbbing meat home. She watched spellbound as the stallion’s flanks rippled and quivered, driving his hips in an unnatural but utterly primary angle, surging his massive balls clear to the mare’s hindquarters, embedding his huge slug of flesh deep in her puss. The maid was flustered. “The power” she thought, as the calm rested his chest on the mare’s broad back, using his purchase to drive his massive hips again and again against the unresistant mare. “So much meat sliding in and out. So thick … ” His massive head was thrown back, eyes showing whites, teeth flashing as he drained his seed into the mare’s heat.
After a time, she knew not how long, the calmion ceased the titanic thrusting of his obviously large sex into the mare’s cunt. As he dismounted, the maid watched transfixed at his thick organ seemed to slightly endlessly from the mare’s receipts. Though it took no more than part of a second for the calmion to withdraw, it seemed an endless spectacle of obscene carnality to the maid until finally, it fell free, its full girl exposed, swinging pendulous beneath his flanks, wet and glistening. A gout of thin milky fluid spewed from the mars cleft, reminding the maid unavoidably of the gobs of semen that so often oozed from between her own tights after being rutted by the Master. She shivered at what she’d witnessed; felt an ache in her womb and a throbbing in her clip.
She tore away her gaze only to lock eyes with the Master Groomsman, whom she realized with a shock, had been watching her closely. His eyes raked her taut young body in its fitted uniform, a knowing grin etched on his face. Like he knew her soul, knew its carnal stain. For the maid knew she’d been unguarded and her soul’s sin had shone itself clearly. Her lips were parted, her face flushed and her hands were gripping her skirt hard at the delta of her mons. She was wet from the rutting she’d witnessed and he knew it.
Sima moaned. Somewhere around the time the calmion had “plunged his monstrous throbbing prick” into the mare, Lee had speared hercunt with four of his fingers. But she was spellbound by his story. Hovering on the edge of a massive orgasm, she’d adjusted her body only slightly, dutifully trying to imitate the maid of the story by acquiescing to her violence without really acknowledging that a hand was now thrust up her cunt.
But Lee had stopped the tale and now Sima was on the verge of an intense release. She felt it welling in her belly, pulsing and rippling out of her core.
“Don’t slut!” Lee’s hand withdraw from her cunt in the blink of an eye. Sima stumbled. Unconsciously, she’d been bearing down on Lee’s invading digits. Though her legs were barely flexed, all her energy had focused on the hardness penetrating her core, embracing its invasion; willing it to sink deeper into her cunt. When he withdraw she gasped and stumbled, feeling a terrible emptiness.
“That’s a good girl, Sima, because I have other plans for you at the moment. We’ll revisit the Maid and Master at another time, but now my sweet little slut-maid I have your first cleaning assignment. I want you to transfer all the stale urine and dried precum coating my dick into your mouth. I think we both know the little bit of extra filter won’t make much difference in that mouth of yours, don’t we? And by the way, the next time, when I send you into a bathroom, I’m going to make you lick up your mess afterward, so think of this as practice.” Sima simply nodded, too overwhelmed with need to speak.
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