A Maids Duties

I recently got a job as a live-in maid. The wages weren't what you'd call crash-hot, but the job did include room and board which was useful. I fronted up on the first day not really knowing what my duties were. The woman who owned the place had been a bit vague.

Once I'd moved in I was provided with a uniform. A French maid's uniform. I thought the woman had to be kidding but she was perfectly serious about it. I put the uniform and it wasn't too outrageous. Actually, it was surprisingly demure but still giving a hint of sexiness. I figured that the hint of sexiness was totally missed by Mrs Fotheringham.

It didn't take long to work out what my duties were with the primary duty being to be a visible status symbol. Mrs Fotheringham had a tea party that very afternoon with yours truly doing the honours in her nice new maid's uniform. Score one for Mrs Fotheringham in her social circle.

That evening I was introduced to Mr Fotheringham. He was nice. Not bad looking, either, in a distinguished sort of way. He was very polite to me and hoped I'd fit in with no problems and to see him if I did have any.

That was his official position. His unofficial position was somewhat different. After I'd seen him and been dismissed I happened to be very close by when he discussed my appointment with his wife.

"Why the hell have we got a maid?" he wanted to know. "Mrs Grillin comes each day to do the housework. What use have we got for a maid? And why the crazy costume?"

"She assists me with all the little things I don't want to do. She's also acting as my social secretary." (That was news to me.) "And it's not a crazy costume. It's a very smart maids uniform."

I suspected that Mr Fotheringham (Call me Brian) hadn't missed the underlying sexiness of the outfit. I don't think much would get past that man.

"Well, if you have to have a maid, why not an older woman. That girl's still a child."

"Fiona is not a child. She's nearly nineteen. I didn't want an older woman because they're too set in their ways. I wanted a younger person who I can train in the correct way to do things."

As far as I could work it out the nice Mr Fotheringham didn't really want me there whereas the catty Mrs Fotheringham wanted her own personal slave. Forget about the fact that she was paying me. In her eyes that was what I was. Still and all it was a paying job and it did leave me a fair amount of free time. This didn't mean I couldn't stir things up a bit. Just by little things, like showing Brian that I wasn't a child.

I'm very handy with a needle and Mrs Fotheringham didn't even notice when I shortened my uniform skirts by an inch. He did, I'm fairly certain, but he didn't say anything. I also took care to get caught in situations where I'd be leaning over or stretching up for something, both positions that would cause my skirt to lift a little, showing off my legs. I'd have undone an extra button on the uniform top but I'm rather stacked in that area. I tried it in a mirror and there was just a little too much cleavage for my peace of mind. Some accidental teasing was one thing. A blatant come-on was something else entirely and I wasn't going that far.

All-in-all I had an interesting and amusing first week. The work wasn't hard and as long as I flattered Mrs Fotheringham I had it pretty easy. I had evenings and weekends off (unless required, which would be notified in advance) and on Friday I retired to my room after dinner.

I was lying back on my bed watching TV and wondering if it was worth getting changed and going out to a club. The trouble was I was just feeling really lazy so I didn't do anything about it. TV was enough for now.

I was still sprawled on the bed watching the TV a couple of hours later when there was a knock on the door. I just yelled, "Yes?" and the door opened and Mr Fotheringham walked in.

I was in my own room and on my own time so I didn't see any need to jump to my feet and stand at attention. I did mute the TV though. Brian looked around the room and seemed to nod approvingly which I took as a good sign. I am rather house-proud and I do like my room to look neat and tidy. He also seemed to look closely at me and give another small nod, which also seemed to be approving. I glanced down at myself and saw that my skirt had ridden up. Forget that extra inch. It was bunched up towards my waist and just barely covered my panties. What the hell. My room, my rules. I left it where it was. Let him look and wonder.

"Just thought I'd check up and see how things have gone this week," he told me. "No problems or anything?"

I assured him that I'd had no problems and expected him to nod again and depart. Instead of going he strolled closer to the bed, took hold of the hem of my skirt and tugged it higher, almost to waist level. I'm like, "Say what?" not believing he'd done that, my mouth open slightly as I looked at him feeling rather shocked.

He didn't stop at lifting my skirt either. As soon as it was high enough his hands reversed and moved in the opposite direction, taking my panties with them. Just like that I was naked from the waist down and had moved from rather shocked to absolutely stunned. I just could not believe that he'd done that. That anyone could do something so blatant.

There was more to come. While I was looking at my own nudity in shock Brian grabbed my ankles and spread my legs, climbing onto the bed to kneel between them. That accomplished he started unbuckling his belt.

I was all, "Wait, wait, wait! What do you think you're doing? You can't do this to me."

Then I switched to, "Oh my giddy aunt. You're doing it. You're really doing it."

I'm sure you can guess what he was doing. He'd very smartly dropped his trousers and this huge phallus was revealed. With that he'd leaned forward and very expertly steered his cock into position, pressing against my pussy in just the wrong place. Wrong from my point of view, anyway, because I could feel it pushing between my lips and starting to enter me.

By the time I realised he was serious about fucking me it was way too late. He'd already started. Not that he was rough about it. Once his cock found the correct spot and started its journey he moved slowly, just edging into position, giving me plenty of time to adjust to his intrusion. Adjust physically, that is. Mentally was another thing entirely.

"You stop that," I demanded. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Well, seeing my cock is well on its way to being fully inside you I would have thought you could guess what I'm doing."

Sarcastic swine. He knew what I meant.

"I know what you're doing. The question is why are you doing it?"

"Because sex is fun. Don't you agree?"

I was going to kill him. I really was.

"Maybe, with the RIGHT partner, which you are NOT. You stop that right now."

He gave one last little push and his groin was pressed firmly against me, his cock deep inside me. Really deep. I don't think I've ever had one that deep. Or wanted to.

"There you go," he said smiling. "Stopped."

OK, he'd followed the letter of what I said, just not the intent.

"Well, don't just leave it there. Take it out."

"All in good time," he said, and with that he started undoing the buttons on my blouse.

"Stop that. What are you doing?"

"You're starting to sound like a broken record," he grumbled. "Stop it. What are you doing? Stop it. It should be obvious to you what I'm doing if you'd just stop and think for a moment. As for stopping, there's plenty of time for that. Later."

I guess it was obvious what he was doing. First, his cock was fucking me. Second, he was opening my blouse so he could get at my breasts. This he promptly demonstrated by pushing my bra up and off my breasts, leaving them exposed to his gaze and his hands.

I was about to protest some more but he moved a hand from my breast to my mouth, holding a finger against my lips.

"Be quiet," he told me, speaking softly but firmly. "You can continue whining afterwards. Right now it's time to do your job."

With that his hand dropped back to my breast and he started playing with them, at the same time starting a slow rhythmic action. He pulled slowly out and returned; his inward thrust not much faster than his slow withdrawal. He promptly proved that you don't need speed to set up an exciting fuck.

He kept on at the same slow pace, which made it easy for me to move with him. At first I wasn't going to, just to show him he couldn't make me, but that oh-so-slow stroking just got to me and I was moving before I knew it.

It was exquisite agony, rocking slowly back and forth with his cock deep inside me, each gentle movement sending little ripples of pleasurable excitement deep into me. At the same time he was teasing my breasts, smaller ripples of pleasure coming from them, but steadily accumulating.

He just kept on going, leaving me mindlessly lying there, my body gently moving to the pleasure tide he'd instigated. I could hear myself softly moaning as he took me. No wild cries of excitement and eager bouncing of bodies, just that soothing rocking that seemed to be going on without end. How something that seemed to be soothing me was also slowly driving me wild with an aroused excitement is beyond me. I guess as you get older you learn these things.

They say that all good things must come to an end and so it proved with Brian taking me. (Not that I wanted him to, mind you. It was totally against my will.) He suddenly picked up the pace and exciting turned into devastating. He just seemed to pick me up and throw me at my climax and I quite literally shrieked as it smashed through me.

Brian rolled off me and lay on the bed next to me, one hand still resting on my breast.

"Now what were you whining about?" he asked.

"Why do you need to ask?" I demanded. "How could you do that to me?"

"Well, from the way you responded, with great skill and pleasure," he replied. "What was wrong with it?"

I couldn't believe he saw nothing wrong with what he'd done.

"It's not how you did it but the fact that you did it. You should never have done it in the first place."

"Why not? You've been teasing me all week and it's not as though it isn't part of your duties."

I felt myself blushing at the comment about teasing. It had only been minor stuff and I hadn't dreamt that it would lead to this. As for being part of my duties!

"What the hell do you mean, part of my duties?"

"When you started I specifically asked my wife why she required a maid. She said it was to do the things she doesn't want to do. This falls into that category. Ergo, part of your duties."

Well, as you can guess I argued that point very strongly. He had the gall to tell me if I wasn't sure then I should check with his wife. Ha, I could see myself doing that. Mrs Fotheringham, am I supposed to fuck your husband as part of my duties? Wouldn't that go down a treat?

"Well, even if it had been part of my duties, which it wasn't, I am now on my own time. I don't have to do any duties on my free time unless notified in advance."

"That's reasonable. In future I'll only take you during your normal hours. If a special occasion crops up I'll let you know in advance. I'm glad we've got that sorted out."

With that he rolled off the bed and departed, pulling his trousers up as he left, leaving me staring after him. He couldn't have meant that last bit. I was certain he couldn't.