Maid To Serve 3

London. A city that, on the outside, was one of the most celebrated and visited cities in the world. Its history spanned nearly two millennia. The old mixed with the modern, London boasted some of the most photographed locations by tourists worldwide. For me, the London they saw was just an illusion. The divide between the wealthy and the poor was vast, although subtly hidden by London's grandeur. It was rare to see the poverty-ridden people; they were swept away from the tourist traps. If you looked closely, you could see the benches with the armrests positioned to prevent the homeless from sleeping on them or the underpasses that passed under the roads, gated to prevent those needing shelter from taking cover.

I moved here from Argentina three months ago with a student visa. At first, life had been fantastic. Drawn in by the glamour and excitement of the London nightlife, I settled in, quickly making friends at the university I studied at. Most evenings were spent partying, both on campus and out in London's vibrant nightlife. The demand from studying and partying took its toll, and I couldn't hack working a part-time job on top of that to pay for the partying and the luxuries.

I was in desperate need of an additional income to survive in London, and I started looking into more nonconventional avenues to earn money. Becoming a content creator on OnlyFans helped a little. Swallowing my pride, I posted suggestive shots in my underwear and amassed a few followers who subscribed to my page' however, it wasn't enough. I didn't have the time to advertise my page, and I wasn't willing to plaster nude or sexual images of myself online to try to make it in an over-saturated market. Not yet, anyway. The way things were going, I needed to make a change.

During my first few months in London, I had grown close with a handsome young man named Freddie, who studied with me at the same university. He came from a wealthy background and disobeyed his father's wishes by going down a path of his own making instead of taking his place as expected in the family business. We used what little money we had to rent a room in North London since we couldn't share a room with the opposite sex on campus. The room was based in a derelict block of flats that was a far cry from the type of properties you encountered in Central London. Troubled by gang violence and drug dealers, I feared for our safety as we slept here and commuted to university. The police rarely came to these parts unless a serious crime was committed; they knew better than to confront some of the people who lived in this neighbourhood.

The desperation that weighed on me to find my way out of this place and to a wealthier neighbourhood drove me to extreme measures. I didn't want to go any further with my OnlyFans, and Freddie's pride prevented him from turning to his family for help. My own family had used up their life savings to send me here to London for an education, I couldn't ask them for any more. When I asked for suggestions in a WhatsApp group with fellow OnlyFans girls, one of them suggested a worldwide agency that intrigued me. In her home city, New York, there was a growing demand for 'sexy cleaning maids'. The first thing she reiterated was that it wasn't a job where you were paid for sex. You turn up dressed in a revealing maid's outfit and clean the place half-assedly whilst the client perves over you.

The role was a significant step up from what I was doing with OnlyFans, but the money I would earn was significantly more for little work. The girl in the group said the company had clients looking for services like this worldwide, including in London. They protected their agents by screening and giving a rating for their clients, similar to how companies like Uber work with their drivers and passengers. Of course, I would have to get used to creepy men leering at me whilst I wore next to nothing, but at least they wouldn't be touching me.

Freddie was reluctant to let me take the work. We had a little argument that I was whoring myself out, and he was worried for my safety. I explained to him that I would always be clothed and that I was doing this for us. Six months working for clients would provide me with enough to find a safer and more pleasant place nearer the centre of London. We could stay there until we graduated, and as long as I could earn an apprenticeship somewhere, I could apply to stay in the country for another three years until I was classed as a skilled worker. Once I'd got a career as a skilled worker, I was entitled to stay here.

The first client I received was a booking in Central London in an apartment overlooking the River Thames offering incredible city views. The agency had provided me with their standard outfit for the service that had been delivered this morning. Thankfully, Freddie was at the pub with a few friends watching football; I couldn't imagine he'd be too happy if he saw what I had to wear for the session.

The outfit consisted of about five parts. First, there was a sexy pair of Brazillian-styled panties made of mesh and lace that reminded me of a pair I had lost back home in Argentina. They were the type of panties you saved for when you knew someone would end up seeing them. The black skirt, topped with a frilly-edged, white apron, was shorter than I had thought, showing the very top of the back of my thighs and even more when I bent over.

Instead of the full maid's outfit that covered my top completely, they only supplied a black push-up bra lined with a frilly white design to match the skirt with a strap that hung around the back of my neck to keep it on. The shoes they expected me to wear were stiletto heels. I hated wearing heels at the best of times and generally reserved them for if I was on a night out, trying to pull someone; if I remember rightly, the last time I had worn them had been the night I had pulled Freddie. The finishing pieces were a frilly white headpiece and a neck collar to complete the look. The agency also sent cleaning supplies and equipment, though there was a note to use it sparingly.

There was no way I would head to the client's place looking like this, so I stashed the collar and headpiece in a bag and shoved on a pair of leggings and a jacket to cover the outfit. As I stepped outside, I noticed the usual drug dealer and his cronies standing outside their flat. Their wolf whistles made my skin crawl, and I quickened my pace, ignoring whatever inappropriate drivel they spewed in my direction.

The client was situated in one of the apartment buildings overlooking the River Thames, not too far from the Bank underground station. Nervously, I pushed open the heavy doors and walked into a grand foyer. The woman posted at the reception desk eyed me immediately as if instantly realising that I didn't belong. As I approached the desk, her look of distrust was replaced by a fake smile.

"Good evening, dear. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"My name is Anya, and I'm here to see Mr. Bruce. I have an appointment."

My accent was thick as I spoke. I'd picked up many English accents and speech mannerisms, but my original accent always came out when I had been drinking or was feeling angry. The way this woman looked at me as if I was dirt whilst she called Mr Bruce's landline was getting to me. The disbelief was visible in her eyes after Mr Bruce confirmed my visitation, and she directed me to the lift, telling me to press the button for the fourth floor and to head to apartment number eight on that floor. I can see that she was considering sending a member of security to escort me up, but in the end, she let me go.

The vast difference in quality of living within less than ten miles irked me. People here lived in such opulence, while people like me lived in squalor, struggling to make ends meet. The wealth on display sickened me, but I had a job to do. Putting on a pleasant face, I knocked on Mr Bruce's door and grinned widely as he invited me inside. He was a small, mousy man, balding and stuttering with every sentence. Like a gentleman, he took my coat and hung it carefully in his entrance hall.

It was clear that the man wouldn't tell me what to clean; he appeared very nervous. Setting down my cleaning equipment, I went around the apartment, dusting and cleaning surfaces while he sat down and watched my every move. His timid nature helped me feel safe, and I felt comfortable acting more seductively. As I wiped the glass table in front of where he sat, I bent down slowly with my ass barely an inch from his face. When I turned to face him, his eyes were full of shock, and he couldn't take his eyes off me. His stunned silence amused me, and I started having fun as I posed in positions that showed off my body while I cleaned. It surprised me to realise that this was turning me on, and I put on as much of a show for the man as I could. At one point, I crawled seductively along the floor as I cleaned a bit of the floor by his feet.

The hour passed so quickly, and it was only when Mr Bruce informed me that his time was up that I realised it was time to stop. The man stuttered, showering compliments my way for the service, and even gave me a small wad of cash as a bonus. As I left the apartment building, I was grinning from ear to ear. I was in such a good mood that even the judgemental look from the reception woman on the way out didn't bother me. I met Freddie as he left the pub and ordered a Chinese takeaway for us to enjoy back home.

Freddie was a little tipsy from spending the last few hours drinking, and he was flirting heavily with me as we walked into our block of flats. Still feeling the arousal from earlier this evening, my clothes were off, and the Chinese takeaway was flung on the side as I pulled Freddie towards the bedroom. He eagerly took my jacket off, and his eyes widened as he took in my maid's outfit.

"Oh yeah, that'll do it."

Freddie grinned and pushed me down onto the bed, laying over me as he kissed me and stroked me through the lace panties. His actions were clumsy due to the alcohol, but he made up for it in enthusiastic effort. I was gagging for it, and I motioned for him to remove my panties. That was enough foreplay; I wanted him inside me.

Freddie was all too willing to comply with my desires, and he fumbled to undo his jeans. The moment his boxers dropped to the floor, his veinous dick sprung to life. Even with the alcohol consumption, Freddie had the stamina and desire that many women craved in the bedroom, and he had an almost feral nature without being too rough. His desire matched my own, and I gave as good as I got, nibbling on his neck as he thrust inside me. As he hit that spot inside, I dug my nails into his back, clinging on for dear life as my eyes rolled into the back of my skull. Oh yeah, that was the spot. The pressure grew inside until it erupted, sending shockwaves of pleasure ripping through my body.

Freddie still wasn't done, and I moaned my appreciation as I rested my face against his, feeling like a rag doll as my body moved with each thrust. I could tell by the expression on his face and the desperation in which he thrust inside me that he was getting close. I bit down on his neck once again, lightly sucking as I did. That pushed him over the edge and me with him. I cried out once again as the pleasure overwhelmed my body.

Breathless, we lay together in each other's arms, treasuring the moment, I think it was safe to say that he approved of the maid's outfit. The last couple of months with Freddie had been nothing short of incredible, even with living in this shithole. It was such a culture shock when I moved here to study; thanks to people like Freddie and some friends I made at university, it had been easy to adapt.

A few months passed, and I took at least one client weekly. I tried to time it when Freddie was out with his friends; it made it easier for him to accept what I was doing. Mr Bruce had been impressed by my first session with him so much that he booked me another four times, with another one scheduled in a couple of weeks.

Thanks to the scrupulous screening by the agency, I haven't encountered any issues with any clients so far. Their ratings had been close to perfect, and I rated them so they would rate me back. I boasted a score of 4.98/5, and because of that, I was rated near the top in my region. With the popularity came the demand. I was receiving more and more requests. With the money that could be earned, I couldn't turn the requests down. If this continued, I'd be able to afford to rent a place in a better area of London sooner rather than later.

On my fifth visit with Mr Bruce, I became more adventurous, hoping it would earn me more of a tip. Ten minutes into cleaning his apartment, I slowly removed my panties and handed them to him to look after. His face was a picture as I bent down in front of him again, revealing my nether regions in all their glory.

My naughty behaviour turned me on; this was quite unlike me. Mr Bruce didn't complain about the scent of my arousal that slowly became more noticeable. The grin on Mr Bruce's face told me he was enjoying the show. He was usually so timid that it surprised me when he held my panties up to his face and sniffed them. Behaviour like that would usually creep me out, but I had developed a soft spot for Mr Bruce, and I wanted him to get the most out of my sessions. As he breathed in my scent, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of arousal.

Mr Bruce tipped me generously to show his appreciation. He still stuttered when he spoke, but he was much more animated when he talked to me. It was lovely to see him coming out of his shell. He handed me back my panties after one more smell, and he had already booked the next session before I left his apartment.

A few days later, I received an email from the agency informing me that a new client had booked me for a session. The booking was double my usual rate because the client was new and had no rating. Should I accept the booking, the agency would provide an intimidating, muscular man to accompany me to the booking. They would act as a deterrent for any unwelcome behaviour and stationed inside the apartment near the entrance. I was still a little dubious until I saw that the client was an eighteen-year-old woman. She had travelled from Cuba half a year ago, and I imagined her feeling lost and alone in a foreign land. I immediately felt sorry for her and decided to accept the booking.

I didn't tell Freddie about my first booking with a woman client later this evening. At the moment, he was happy with the money and the little treats that came with that to argue against it. Our sex life had also benefited from my role, and that was another thing he couldn't argue against. I'd given him a little extra money to treat himself at the pub with his friends, and he was happy.

I met up with the security man accompanying me this evening by Hyde Park. He looked somewhat like a biker; tall and hairy, tattooed, dressed in leathers, and built like a brick shithouse. To my complete surprise, the man spoke with a soft and soothing voice. He introduced himself as Blade, and he looked like he was in his late twenties. I had dreaded meeting him due to the nature of the work, but he instantly filled me with ease.

"Don't you worry, Miss, I'll be out of sight, but if you have any worries, call out to me and I'll respond instantly."

Blade continued making small talk as we walked towards the apartment building. I'd seen some wealth recently at my client's properties, but I could immediately tell that this one was going to top the lot. The apartment building was modern and tall, with balconies that overlooked Hyde Park and the city. The foyer of the apartment building had its own security team present, and there was a grand water display with well-kept indoor plants and art hanging on the wall. I approached the receptionist at the desk, and he was far more pleasant than some of the others I'd encountered. Especially that judgemental bitch back at Mr Bruce's apartment building. My visit was already scheduled on his computer, and he pointed me to a separate lift guarded by a security member and metal detectors.

"Good evening, Miss."

The security man was so tall and well-built that he made Blade look small. He was polite as he searched my bag of cleaning supplies, and I walked through the metal detector without setting it off. Thankfully, I hadn't gone ahead with the nipple piercings I was thinking of getting; that would have been a fun one to explain.

As the lift doors closed, I realised that we were travelling up to the penthouse floor at the top. I grew nervous once again and I looked to Blade for reassurance; he smiled warmly in return. The doors opened to an entrance lobby with space to hang coats and bags and even a seating area to wait. The door opened and out stepped one of the most stunning women I had ever seen in my life.

"Welcome, Anya. My name is Livia."

The first thing I noticed about Livia was that she was slightly taller than me. She was wearing a short pair of denim shorts and a white crop top that rested on her large chest, two with two little peaks in the fabric showing that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath. Her skin was tanned and flawless, and she was slim and toned. I was envious of her immediately. The question was, why was she hiring me? With her looks, she could probably get people to clean her place for free.

Blade sat in the entrance lobby as I was led inside her place. The penthouse took up the entire top floor of the building, and it was mostly open plan with a modern living area, a contemporary built-in kitchen, and separate rooms for a luxury bathroom, shower room, bedroom and personal gym. The more I saw of her place, the more envious I got of this mystery woman guiding me.

After the tour, Livia took a seat on the sofa as I got to work. The place was nearly immaculate; there wasn't much to do. Still, I put on a show, just like I had with Mr Bruce and others before. Livia had the same hungry gaze on her body as my other clients as she watched me clean, biting her lip at times as she watched me bend over in front of her.

Towards the end of the session, Livia made me a cup of tea and thanked me for my service, saying I performed perfectly and that she'd be booking me again. There were so many questions I wanted to ask her. Like, how did she afford a place like this? Or why did she hire me? Instead, she made small talk, asking about me and how I was enjoying the job. She did reveal that she had come from Cuba and that she had only been over here half a year. It was easy talking to her, and ten minutes had passed before I realised that Blade was waiting for me, and if I didn't go out there soon, he'd come charging inside to check on me.

The next month passed in the blink of an eye as Autumn came to an end, and my workload became a little overwhelming. University work was piling up, and since my popularity had grown so much with the agency, I was getting so many requests that I needed to turn some down. I decided that I'd make sure that I would always accept Mr Bruce's bookings. I don't know whether it was because I felt a little sorry for him or that he tipped well, but I enjoyed my time with him. Livia had booked me another three times since the first time, and I was getting on very well with her. Sure, the girl intimidated me a little with her beauty and stature, and she always seemed to have this smirk on her face as if she knew something I didn't, but she was very easy to get on with.

On top of everything, Christmas was approaching, and I was looking forward to spending my first festive season in London with Freddie. He had treated me the other day to a trip to Winter Wonderland at Hyde Park, I had such an amazing time and it really got me into the spirit. Despite the gloom associated with the part of London I lived in, the centre of London was truly beautiful this time of year. Of course, it was also much colder than I was used to.