Jacqui

by

Karen Anne Summerfield and Kelly Ann Rogers
© August 2002

 

Part II - Jacqui Becomes a Maid

_______________________________________________________________

"Time to get up, sleepy head." Melissa shook my arm.

"Just leave me alone." I tried to shake her hand off.

"No can do, Jacqui, we've orders. I'm going to obey, and it's my job to assure you obey yours as well. So up an' at 'em, girl." She pulled me upright on the roll-away cot I'd set up for the night in the computer room. I pulled at my chastity belt, trying to keep it from chafing.

"Listen, first day in a chastity belt is the worst. First week, first month, it really only gets a little better, but you adjust. It’s entirely in your attitude. I'm wearing one and you so are you. That’s all there is to it." I tugged at it again, trying to pull a little bit of slack in the steel, which, of course, wasn't happening.

"Go shower and shampoo twice. Don't do any more than towel dry it then come to my room when you're done." I did exactly as I was instructed. My chastity belt was most definitely going to take a lot of getting used to, starting with using the toilet. Peeing wasn't any big deal, but...

Carla was talking with her sister and looking through the things Melissa had hung in the closet. "If I'd known, I could have brought a few more uniforms, Sis. I do have a few that match."

"Mum, Melissa, not 'Sis'. I'm going to insist on this and I do expect that you'll remember your status here. You and Jacqui are employees, my maids, and not my relatives."

"Yes, mum."

"Good morning, mum." I curtseyed. For some reason, I seemed to hold no resentment about the way things had gone the previous evening.

"Oh, and good morning to you also, Jacqui.

"We were just discussing what the two of you will be wearing this morning. I'd have preferred matching uniforms, but that doesn't appear possible today."

"Mum, I did bring two that are identically cut and trimmed. One is black and the other one, gray."

"Let me see." Melissa brought out the two hangers. "Yes, those will do. You wear the black one.

"What do you usually wear with them, other than the aprons."

"Bra, panties, pantyhose, black with that and white with the gray, one or two plain petticoats, more with the black. The gray one is a day uniform for doing chores, so I wear white shoes with only a two-inch, chunky heel. That black one is a bit more formal, for afternoons when there might be casual guests and I'll be serving refreshments or serving a lunch. I wear plain black pumps with a four-inch heel. Oh, and a head piece too, mum."

"Two petticoats each, stockings not pantyhose and no other panties, ever, except on my instruction. You both are wearing all the panties you need or will be permitted." Carla turned to me.

"You will always wear stockings, Jacqui. You have white stockings and a garter belt. Wear those with those cute, white lace up shoes you have."

"Both uniforms and the aprons need pressing. Do assure I do not see wrinkles when you come down for inspection.

"Melissa, the plainest studs you brought, for your ears; no other jewelry for today. No, you may both wear a thin watch. I'm going to be strict about timeliness.

"Get started."

We both curtseyed and waited until Ms. Martin had left the room before doing as we'd told. It took longer to iron our uniforms, petticoats and pinafores - they were more than just aprons, than it did to put everything on and apply the light makeup, that Ms. Martin had decreed appropriate for days.

Our uniforms were quite plain, with white pointed collars and cuffs on the short sleeves. The moderately full, above the knee skirts were pouffed out some by the gathered cotton petticoats we wore. Melissa had only pantyhose. I loaned her a garter belt and gave her a plain, pair of sheer black stockings to wear. Seeing the shoes I brought to the room, she produced a similar pair in black.

Ms. Martin approved of both of us.

"Melissa, as first girl, I'm placing you in charge and holding you responsible.

"Here is my charge card and some cash, should you need it. Get Jacqui's ears done and don’t forget that new hole in your left lobe then get your hair done.

"I think I'd like to see both of you with a lot less eyebrows." Ms. Martin used me to demonstrate what she desired. "They are to start inside the eye and end at the outer corner. Have them waxed and only leave a thin line, as high as possible."

"That's not much at all, mum."

"Is that a complaint or the beginning of back talk, Melissa? Say another word about it and I'll tell you to have yours removed completely."

"Yes, mum."

It felt really strange walking into the mall. Although Jacqui had been in public many times before and in much shorter skirts, higher heels, more makeup and a lot more jewelry, in short, outfits that drew a lot of attention to me. I must say though, that walking next to Melissa in a full maid's uniform seemed to instantly draw every pair of eyes to us like magnets and I felt very vulnerable and exposed. I told Melissa about my feeling about how I felt.

"I used to feel the exact same way, especially when I was fat," she giggled. "There was almost twice as much of me then. The worst was when I had to go to a supermarket and do all the shopping in my full French regalia."

"What do you mean by, 'had to go'?"

"I worked my way through college hiring myself out as a maid. I'd do cleaning, laundry; you name it. I'd serve lunches and formal dinners and I'd do parties. I bought a chastity belt after one of those. I felt like I was going to be raped by every guy there, every one of them.

"Anyway, during one formal diner, a guest, he was older than my grandfather, asked me if I'd spend a three day weekend at his place being his maid and doing everything. He promised no sex and no kinky stuff. Just that I'd have to be uniformed the entire time, I'd be photographed and video taped constantly. The pay was a grand a day and an additional thousand if I didn't call it quits before the end.

"Wouldn't you, in my position, do anything, including going to a supermarket in net hose and six-inch heels?"

"Yes, I guess I would," I giggled. "Carla…"

Melissa cut me off. "That's Ms. Martin to you, Jacqui. You better get used to it quick."

I sighed. "I'm afraid that's going to be difficult, Melissa, I can't help, but think of her as Carla."

"Well, you can think whatever you want, but neither Ms. Martin nor I will permit you to call her by her first name. If I can figure out how to do it, so can you. Now what were you saying?"

"Huh? Oh. I was saying that Ms. Martin," I put the emphasis on the Ms., "said that as her maid, I'm only going to get minimum wage. but, it is steady employment." I had to laugh.

"That's a girl, laugh about it."

Having three silver studs shot through each ear was not the big deal I had always thought it was going to be. In fact, I loved it. Something about having it done made me feel incredibly feminine. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I began to wish for some nicer earrings, and, as I stood there, I had a little fantasy. I was the girlfriend of some very rich man and he was presenting me with beautiful earrings. I was so thrilled I stretched up to kiss him for his generosity, bending one knee behind me as I did. Yum.

Everything about this trip was different. Even though John had had my hair trimmed in beauty salons for years, walking in as Jacqui, a maid, was much different.

When Melissa explained just what we wanted done, rather, what Ms. Martin wanted done to us, we were placed in adjacent stations to be worked on by the same beautician. It was comforting and reassuring to have Melissa there next to me, and seeing everything that was done to me, done exactly the same way to her.

Melissa told Tracy, our operator, each step of all the procedures was to be performed on me first, starting with the smelly hair coloring, blue black. While that gook did its thing on our heads, Tracy removed most of our eyebrows with wax; having all those hairs yanked out hurt!

"Just let me get the strays, Jacqui, then I'll put a nice soothing cream there." She daubed the tears that were in the corners of my eyes with tissues.

I was both thrilled and freaked out having my hair cut into a very feminine bubble cut by Tracy. Though Melissa had given me bangs the day before, Tracy combed all the hair in a line, ear to ear across the top, forward, and cut it into a crescent, making my bangs even fuller.

Once our hair was finally done, it was in an almost spherical shape that curved in at the bottom. The ends of our hair formed one continuous curve that crested in the middle of our foreheads, swept down around our eyes and over the middle of our ears. In back, she cut it above the top of our necks and shaved off everything below that.

Melissa asked if Tracy thought that she could give us a 'China Doll' make-up and to attempt to make us look as closely alike as she possibly could.

"Just not too bold, Tracy. Our employer wants it on the subtle side."

"Are you two really maids?"

"Yes, we are really maids," I found the courage to reply, even though I was still trying to understand what that meant. I just had to hear myself say it aloud, hoping perhaps that I would begin to believe what now appeared to be an inescapable truth.

Once we were done and Tracy had spent an inordinate amount of time replacing the white fan headpieces just so, Melissa led the way to our next set of tasks. Each of us was to buy a dozen pairs of heavy, opaque white stockings and seamed black sheers. We were to find boxy, white PVC purses, like the handbags that little girls carry around at Easter, and matching white shoes. These were to be smooth calf, with rounded toes and about three-inch heels. They were to have a wide strap across the vamp, if we could find them, or ankle straps if we couldn't.

We cleaned out the entire stock of both styles of stockings in one hosiery store, ending up with only eleven pairs of the black and seventeen of the white. We went to another and, finally, a third before we could meet our goal. Our new purses were easy to find in the children's department of a discount store and cost only two dollars each. I just knew I would feel like an idiot carrying such a bag if the occasion ever arose. I mean, what kind of grownup would carry a bag like that?

We visited every shoe store and shoe department in the entire mall before selecting the shoes that came closest to matching the ones we were told to buy. The shoes we bought had one-inch platforms and five-inch heels that flared at their tips. There were two straps with large silver colored buckles instead of the one specified.

"These shoes are really ugly, Melissa. I'd never have bought them."

"I agree. They are ugly. I think, Ms. Martin intends them to be."

"Why? I would think that she would want us to be as pretty as possible?"

"For a party or guests, sure. A woman I worked for a few times explained her thinking this way -

'I know you are an intelligent girl, Melissa, however, it is my desire that you appear and act like a stupid immigrant. There are many maids who are incapable of being anything more than a maid and that is how I wish you to appear,' she told me."

"All she let me do for her was a very heavy cleaning of her hot attic. I was a total mess after two weekends of that."

"She kept the damn uniform and didn’t clean it. By the last day, I smelled like a horse and she had me go to the store that way. Talk about a weirdo."

"Why'd you do it?"

"Wouldn’t you, for forty dollars an hour? Besides, it was good exercise and I started to drop some serious weight. It was after that that I got very serious about not being a fat cow any longer."

"You ever do any kinky stuff as a maid?"

"Just once. Crazy as it might seem, I really enjoy being a straight, plain vanilla maid, doing all the chores, cooking and serving meals, and taking care of guests. Beats the shit out of the work I did for my recent employer."

"Why?"

Melissa stopped to stare at me a moment before she answered. "It's a bit strange talking like this since it was your company." She tilted her head and studied me for a few seconds then giggled lightly to herself. "But you’re a maid named Jacqui now, aren’t you? You’re not Mr. Ingram, the boss."

I paled and could feel my mouth draw back involuntarily in a gesture of dismay. "Talking to you about my experiences at Carla’s company," she really emphasized the Carla, "shouldn’t bother me at all." And she giggled again.

"It was a do nothing, go nowhere job. I knew that when I took it. What I hated was the stress."

"Stress, as a receptionist! What stress?" I couldn't believe she thought a receptionist's job was stressful.

"Oh! There wasn’t any real stress in the work and the guys were great, no problem with any of them. It was the women and the competition they created. No matter what I wore, how I did my hair, make-up, nails, whatever. Always, no matter what, one or more would make some catty, snotty comment. 'New shoes Melissa, were they on sale at Payless?' There is none of that crap as a maid.

"Anyone who criticizes my uniform, my shoes, my make-up, anything, is criticizing my employer. Real maids, like you and me," my stomach did a little flip when she said that, "do not get to make choices about how they appear or dress - they are told, and their employer supplies the uniforms. If someone takes exception to my appearance, they can tell the person I work for about it, not me. If they do tell me, I don't care, I didn't choose it."

"You said you like the work. How can you enjoy ironing or scrubbing the floor and cleaning toilets?"

"How is it that people who have more money than they know what to do with enjoy going to a gym and working out on a stupid machine and paying for the privilege of exercising? In my book, that is totally stupid and dumb, working up a sweat and accomplishing nothing while paying for it!"

"Those rich jerks, and some not so rich, all look down their noses at someone who is just a maid or a receptionist, Jacqui. I earned a four-year college degree. I paid for every cent of it. I bought my food, my clothes and my hot, new SUV and I paid cash. I've never established credit and don't use plastic. I did it by working, not because my Daddy handed it to me. I worked as a maid earning hundreds a day not five bucks an hour at the library or Micky D's."

"They can look at me and sneer, if that excites them. Damn few can say they did, on their own, what I've done. Far fewer than that, can say they love doing what they do and feel proud at the end of the day. They drag themselves home, totally exhausted and stressed to the breaking point. They pour a glass of whiskey and hope that it kicks in before their worrisome thoughts about the next day overwhelm them."

I had obviously hit a hot button and Melissa was on a roll; spilling out her entire view of life in an apparent response to the many slights she had experienced in the past.

"Melissa the maid, finishes her day tired, sometimes. I'm satisfied that the rooms are properly cleaned and the other chores are done. I don't have worry one. My clothes for the morning are already picked out along with everything else. I have something to eat and relax before getting a solid night of sleep without needing any depressants to make my mind turn off all the perceived problems others think they should bear."

"Melissa...?"

"I'm not done yet."

I butted in anyway, "What about challenge, intellectual stimulation, and all of the other things the stressed will tell you they need to make them satisfied?"

"You want challenge as a maid? I challenge you to do all your assigned chores in the time allowed, keep your hair and make-up neat, your entire uniform spotless and not chip your nails. You're allowed to soil your apron or pinafore, just don't go using it as a towel.

"No way in hell can I honestly brag that I can do it every day or even most days, I can't, but that's the challenge I have every time I go on duty. Most days I lose, but I sure as shit tried, and just because I get one spot on my uniform, does not say that it is OK to get two.

"Now, what was it you wanted to ask me, Jacqui?"

"You answered it. You've obviously have thought this maid thing through and are passionate about it. I’ve always given mbe sure to remove those gloves, Jacqui. Set the dining room table for one. The servants usually eat in the kitchen, though in our case it'll be the maids' quarters."

Though we served throughout dinner, Ms. Martin essentially ignored both of us until we were cleaning up. I didn’t see her come into the kitchen, but when I saw Melissa curtsey, I turned and did the same. Carla's green eyes examined both of us for a moment before she spoke.

"Melissa, take Jacqui back to your apartment to help you move out and make arrangements to terminate your lease. I believe that you can serve my needs better if you are free from that encumbrance. Bring back the rest of your uniforms and whatever else you want.

"See that you return in time to serve dinner tomorrow evening. You may both dress as you wish, unless you want to go in uniform. Consider it your day off this week."

"Finish here then you are dismissed for the evening."

"Yes, mum."

"What does all that mean, exactly?" I asked when I turned back to the few dishes left in the sink.

"Pretty much that I've been fired from my other job. Looks to me like I will have what I always really wanted, a full time, real maid's position."

"Doesn't it bother you that your sister talks to you like that?"

"Nope. Bothers me about as much as you should be bothered that John was once her husband."

"That was a low blow."

"Just the truth. Listen, I gave you my personal recipe for a happy life, earlier. I think you had better get it settled in your little maid’s brain between those cute little pierced ears of yours, girl. Either of us can walk out whenever we choose to, but you know what the consequences are for you if you do.

"Carla is my sister, Ms. Martin is my employer. Best get that straight as it pertains to you too."

I went to lay on my cot that night with my head full of concerns. The change from being John, the CEO, to being Jacqui, the maid, had happened so quickly that I didn’t quite know what was going on. Could I actually follow Melissa’s happy maid philosophy? I had lived as John for more than thirty years and for the last eight I had run a company. I didn’t understand how concentrating on dusting the knick knacks without dirtying my uniform was going to fill my thoughts, which typically contained five or six things at a time. Carla was treating me like an employee and I didn’t like it. Melissa was bossing me around and I didn’t like that either, although she did seem sincere about doing a good job and was obviously into teaching me now to be a proper maid.

What if Melissa was right? As I thought about it, while idly scratching around my chastity belt, I began to convince myself that the only way I could survive and, perhaps enjoy the next three months, was to adopt Melissa’s point of view. She had warned me to stop thinking like I was John, indeed to stop thinking that I was John and just become Jacqui, the maid. I was thrilled that Jacqui was going to get to live as herself twenty-four/seven for the first time in her life, but apprehensive that she had to be a maid to do it. What had I allowed myself to be talked into?

I finally fell asleep fretting over the damn chastity belt that I could only remove by cutting it off. ‘Oh hell, I'm not going to worry.’

"Up. Time to get pretty, Jacqui." Again, Melissa had wakened me.

"What should I wear?"

"It's our day off and that means we may wear anything we want. I've seen your wardrobe. You have a lot of neat things. You’re not going to be getting many other chances to wear them any time soon. Of course, if you’d prefer to wear a uniform, you’ll have to be my maid today. I'm certainly not going to wear one of the suits I bought when I was given that previous job. Fuck them! What crap! I'll wear jeans and a top cause I'm moving stuff and don't want to dirty anything good.

"And remember, I expect you to duplicate the look that Tracy created with make-up. Get your butt moving."

I did all the necessary tasks in the bathroom and shower then alternated the hair dryer between my hair and steel panties until both were dry. I was really coming to hate being locked in that thing!

Before I did my makeup, I went to knock on Melissa's door. I was fairly sure of what I was doing.

"What's up?" She asked after scanning me, naked, but for my steel panties.

"I'd like you to loan me a uniform, please? I acknowledge my status. I'm a maid. Please select my uniform for today, Melissa?" She glared for a brief moment before softening her look to an amused smile.

"I'm glad I brought it. We're lucky we're just about the same size. I'll get a uniform for you." Melissa closed the door, leaving me in the hall.

When she opened it again, only a hanger with a black uniform came out. Once I took the hanger, the door closed, but opened quickly again. This time Melissa stood there with a pair of front laced, knee boots in her hand.

"I’m afraid the boots will be too tight. You’ll have to wear them anyway!" Melissa said before closing the door again. "I'll meet you downstairs in thirty minutes."

What I had in my hand was a tailored, black leather uniform that I couldn't guess the intent of until I put it on. It was a chauffeuse uniform. I almost laughed aloud. Melissa was amazing.

I had the knee boots laced up and was stepping into the skirt when Melissa entered my room wearing a light, floral print that was mostly lilac and white sandals, not her jeans.

"Be sure the seams on your net stockings are straight at all times, Jacqui. You must check often and straighten them, even if in public. Understood?"

"Yes, mum," I curtsied in reply.

Melissa handed me a visored cap and a pair of gauntlet-like, black leather gloves then told me to put them on.

Ms. Martin was just delighted with my appearance when we presented ourselves to her with curtseys before leaving.

"Very nice, Jacqui. I think your duties have just expanded," she said, barely suppressing a laugh.

"Oh, Melissa this is just priceless." Then she turned to me.

"Jacqui, you may now consider yourself to be my chauffeuse in addition to being one of my maids."

"Yes, mum," I curtseyed again. The evening before, Melissa had again worked with me on my curtseys. Judging by her smile, Ms. Martin was happy with the improvement.

I did not need to be told to tend the door for the First Girl nor to be quiet as we drove in John’s big Mercedes. Except to provide directions, Melissa remained silent throughout the two-hour drive. Because Jacqui did not have a driver's license, I drove very carefully. I did not need to meet a cop on a professional basis dressed like that. The boots that I was wearing were not only tight, but they had five-inch heels as well. They forced me to pay close attention to my movements. I'd never driven while wearing such high heels before.

"Come with me, Jacqui," Melissa ordered once I'd parked in the lot near her apartment. I tended her door and watched her wave to two people with a smile.

"Hi, Mary, Hi Bill,"

"Hi, Melissa," a man's voice called from behind. I had no desire to meet her friends, but it looked like I didn't have any choice, except to follow as Melissa strode towards them. In a couple of seconds, we were face to face.

"Who's your friend, Melissa?" the girl elbowed her companion in the ribs when he asked that. I'd seen him checking me out.

"My sister's chauffeuse.

"Curtsey, Jacqui." I thought that in my position it was best to remain silent and obey, so I did, flushing slightly at the embarrassment of acting so submissively. Melissa proceeded to tell them that she was transferring to the headquarters and that she was staying at Ms. Martin's who had just bought a big house, until she found a place of her own. It was a good story.

"Listen, there's some stuff in my 'frige'. Why not come over and take it while Jacqui and I pack my clothes?"

"Can't, I've an appointment with my doctor." Mary was obviously very pregnant.

Bill politely offered to go with her, but she turned him down. "I'll be fine. I'll see you when I get back about noon."

Bill was still checking me out and was obviously pleased that Mary had let him off the hook, so he could spend some time with me. Of course, he ended coming with us and walked next to me, very closely. I’d never sensed a man in heat before, but that was what I clearly felt coming from Bill just then. This guy wanted to get in my panties and I was thankful for the first time since Melissa had locked them on that they were stainless steel.

"You from around here ... Jacqui, right?" he asked.

"No, North Jersey," I did not want to engage in conversation - not even small talk.

"I live in Somerville." Just great, that was only fifteen miles from Ms. Martin's new house. "I'm just visiting my sister while her husband's away on business," he explained. I'd assumed they were husband and wife.

"I'm just out of college and I start my new job in two weeks.

"I'm looking forward to working with you, Melissa," he added.

She, like I, questioned what he'd just said. "Working with me?"

"Yeah. You said you were transferring to Johncarla headquarters didn't you? I'm interviewing there next Monday, but their Human Resources said that with my education it's pretty assured that they'll hire me in their engineering department, at least until I'm trained for something better. I hear it's a great company."

"It is, but I think I misstated things. Actually, I've only been asked to consider a transfer. That's part of why I'll be there with my sister." Melissa unlocked the door to admit us and we trooped in.

"Help yourself to whatever is in the refrigerator, Bill. There are bags under the sink." She turned to me.

"My bedroom is this way, Jacqui. Come with me." I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd been fearful that I'd be ordered to help him. She closed the door as soon as we entered.

"What's with you?" she demanded, "You're shaking and look like you've seen a ghost?"

"It's just ... just that no guy ever broadcast his desire for to me like he was."

Melissa nodded. "Yeah, pretty strong. It's not going to stop, so you had better come to accept that for every guy who can still get it up, you, as a maid, are fair game. If you don't believe me now, wait til you serve your first party in a really sexy uniform. You are going to have to learn to deal with it sooner or later, but you’ll be much better off if it's sooner."

"I'll take the later, if you don't mind."

"Jacqui, you are such a twit. You just don’t get it, do you? I think sooner would definitely be better, so I’m not giving you a choice. Get out there, help Bill pack the food and then carry the stuff to Mary's apartment. Now!" Melissa stopped to stare at me, before she added, "That is an order. Move!"

I did not want to do it! I wanted no part of being so close to Bill, especially because he’d already shown too much interest in me. I was starting to get anxious about how Bill might behave and felt humiliated that I was merely a sex object to him. Very reluctantly, I turned to go, but Melissa wasn’t done with me yet.

"Don't forget to curtsey like I've taught you, and to address him as 'sir'. Now get going." I blushed, curtseyed to her and went to do as she'd told me to.

"Melissa sent me to help you, sir." I straightened from my curtsey and kept my eyes lowered. Bill wasted no time making room next to him before the open refrigerator. He tried to keep his hip pressed against mine for the a few minutes it took to finish emptying it. Thankfully, there just wasn't that much to do.

"I'll carry this, sir." I lifted one partly full bag in front of me to serve as a shield in case he got ideas. That made me feel like I'd be a little safer, at least until I'd put everything away in Mary’s apartment, which he told me was on the other side of the complex.

Sure enough, that's just when he chose to make his move. I'd closed the refrigerator after putting everything away and turned to tell Bill that I was going back to help Melissa. As I turned, I could see he was stepping towards me. I knew what was happening, but before I could move to block him, he wrapped his powerful arms around me, pulled me tightly to his chest and enveloped my lips with his mouth. I struggled to break free, but he only hugged harder. His tongue probed for an entrance into my mouth. At first, I kept my teeth and lips tightly shut then deciding I had to say something to make him stop, I opened my mouth to speak. His tongue immediately entered the opening I had created for it. This was the first time a man had penetrated me.

"I just love girls in leather, like you," he breathed in my face once he broke the kiss. Still holding me securely with one arm, his free hand began to explore my body. "You're really hot, babe."

"Just let go of me you pig," I spluttered out once I could say something. Then, desperate to avoid his intentions, I drove my right heel into his foot. He screamed in pain and I ran from the apartment, not that anyone can actually run in five-inch heels. I guess it was just a quick mince and I'm sure it looked just ridiculous.

Melissa was unsympathetic when I returned with tears streaming down my cheeks and told her what had happened

"You've already made your point and ruined your makeup, so stop the tears. No one is going to rape us locked up as we are. Get your act together and fix your face. We still have work to do."

"Melissa," I screeched. "He tried..."

"Do as you were told, now, Jacqui! Don’t be such a damn baby! You think you’re the only girl who ever had a guy force a kiss on her. Grow the Hell up!"

We drove in silence until we neared the house then Melissa spoke up, "All girls have to put up with men, Jacqui. You best accept that as fact. You're a damn good looking chick and men are going want you."

"But I don't want them!" I countered.

"Then figure out how you are going to handle them. What you want or don't want isn't going to change how they feel." I shut up. Melissa was obviously not going to offer me any consolation.

She went straight to Ms. Martin while I unloaded her things and started to put them away.

"Jacqui, Melissa explained what happened." I turned from the closet to face my wife. Ms. Martin was calm and I thought I could see a bit of a cruel smile on her lips, as if she was enjoying my distress. "Stay quiet and listen to me."

"You agreed to this," she began, "wanted it even. I've given you just what you thought you wanted and more. Half of the population are men. They are a fact of life that you are not going to change. I do not expect you to like them, but I do expect you to deal with them and to do so without ever embarrassing me. End of discussion."

As she turned and left Melissa's room, I started to cry. Just what had I gotten myself into? I was locked into a damn chastity belt, looked down on by the world and dismissed by everyone except the men who wanted to fuck me. Now I was supposed to deal with it. I wanted out!

But there was no way out. Instead, I spent a grueling week, as Melissa and I cleaned up the house quickly each morning and then packed for the move in the afternoons.

"I've hired a mover to do the rest." Ms. Martin informed us over breakfast on Saturday. "The furniture will go with this house when I sell it."

"Both of you pack up enough uniforms to last you a few days along with your makeup and other personal things. Melissa, I expect you to attend to things here in this house then close up and drive to my new home once the movers finish.

"Jacqui, after you've packed your things, change to the leather uniform. I want to leave by nine." I curtseyed and murmured acknowledgment. It was a tremendous relief that I would not be in the house alone with the moving men.

She had me drive to the Realtors office. When I had helped her out of the car, she gave me new instructions. "Normally, a chauffeur, or chauffeuse in your case, stays with the car, polishing it or whatever." She opened her purse and extended two twenties. "You are not an exception."

"Take the car to a car wash then find a place to buy what you'll need to polish it. Be back by noon, Jacqui." I was left speechless while Ms. Martin walked to the Realtor's office, opened the door and walked in. I did what I was told. Even though it was my Mercedes, it was the first time I had lifted a finger to actually clean it. Being Carla's chauffeuse was not going to be fun.

"You have the top bunk," Melissa announced when she came down from the top floor of the maids' quarters after she arrived late in the afternoon. "Thanks for making the bottom one for me."

"But I got here first," I protested.

"And I'm First Girl. It's my choice and that is the way it is!" she started to change out of the gray uniform she'd worn. I was already in a black taffeta French maid's uniform and was fixing my makeup. I just stared at her, but she ignored me. I shook my head and peered back into the mirror.

"Is that what we're suppose to wear tonight?"

"Yes. Ms. Martin told me to tell you."

"What's here for her dinner?" Melissa asked.

"Nothing yet; we didn't know what time you'd arrive. Ms. Martin said she'd inform us about her own meal. I put the other food we brought from your apartment upstairs in the cabinets.

"Good, at least we won’t starve for a few days."

"I really like the turret. Makes me feel like a princess living in a castle," Melissa said, as she sat before the other vanity. "How about you?"

For the next fifteen minutes, Melissa talked with me as a best friend would about our new job and suggested a routine we might establish to accomplish our chores. It made me feel better than I had since the incident in Mary's apartment. For the first time since this whole adventure had begun, I felt like I had a friend.

We arrived downstairs to discover that Ms. Martin had ordered in Chinese food. She even ordered enough for us. Still, we had to serve her as she ate and then reheat what was left and eat it ourselves in the kitchen. At least it was warm.

The movers arrived the following morning and this time I was not spared the job of overseeing them. Just to make me as nervous as possible, Melissa had me dress in one of her black afternoon uniforms with a mid-thigh length hem. It was much shorter skirt than the others we had worn. After we served breakfast and I cleaned up, Ms. Martin informed me of my fate that day.

"I'm taking Melissa with me to shop, Jacqui. We won’t be back until this afternoon. I'll leave a hundred dollars to tip the movers when they finish." I wanted to protest being left alone in the house with a bunch of guys, but knew it would be of no use and probably only give Ms. Martin another chance to put me down, so I kept my peace.

"As things are brought in, get started putting them away."

"Ms. Martin, mum," I curtseyed, "may I wear panties please, to cover my chastity belt? This skirt is so short," I bobbed again with the hem of my skirt in my fingers, "and the house will be full of men."

She looked at me sharply, as if trying to figure out what trick I was pulling, but then waved at me dismissively. "Oh go ahead, if that will make you feel better." Then a huge grin lit up her face. "But wear that white frilly pair with all those ruffles you had in your suitcase."

That wasn't what I had in mind! I had gotten what I asked for, although not in the way I had I hoped. I knew there would be no point in arguing. I did as she’d said, comforting myself that at least my chastity belt would be hidden.

I was extremely embarrassed having so much of my legs displayed in my short uniform. The men couldn’t keep their eyes off me and I'm sure that their whispered conversations and laughter were about me. I kept myself as busy as I could, putting things away in one room while the movers worked in the others, just so I wasn’t constantly being ogled. Still, I couldn't help but feel exposed as I repeatedly bent and stretched. Try as I might, I simply couldn't keep my uniform skirt down low enough to cover my panties, much less the tops of my stockings. This alternately embarrassed me and then allowed me to feel relieved depending on whether I imaged the men actually being able to see my chastity belt, or just the panties.

Still, these were young men and they kept finding reasons to interrupt me to ask me where something or another was to go. In fact, it seemed to me that they tried to barge in on me when I was bent over so they could look up under my uniform.

At one point, I even considered joining their game by assuming poses that would allow them to see up my skirt or catching their eyes flirtatiously when they were checking me out. While I could imagine myself looking back over my shoulder with a sly grin on my face while my pantied butt stuck out from my bent-over-with-straight-legged pinup girl position, I never actually did anything. I was just too shy and overcome by my embarrassment to become a pinup girl for these guys. I wondered if Jacqui would ever feel comfortable flirting with a guy.

Other than that silly game of peek-a-boo, the five guys behaved and nothing untoward happened. In fact, I was so pleased with their behavior that I curtseyed nicely to them when they left and made sure to warmly shake each man’s hand as I thanked him for his effort. I tired to imagine myself up on my tip-toes kissing each one on the cheek, but I could never really get the image into focus in my mind. Strangely, this made me feel like I was somehow missing out on something, though I couldn't figure out what.

Ms. Martin (there, I thought, I had managed to call my boss by her preferred name on the first try) and Melissa came back about four, just after the movers had left.

"Jacqui," she called as she came in the door. I hurried to the hallway and curtseyed. "Help Melissa unload the car and put things away while she prepares my dinner."

My wife didn't bother to inquire how my day had gone. Apparently, she didn't care or wasn't going to listen to complaints if I had any. I realized that there was really no reason any employer would be interested in anything except whether I'd done my job properly. I sighed to myself and went to find Melissa. Ms. Martin, I repeated to myself in my head. She is Ms. Martin.

"You owe me a hundred bucks," Melissa said as we prepared for bed.

"For what?"

"Your share of the food I bought for us. Remember? We are expected to provide our own. Ms. Martin made that quite clear when we were in the supermarket."

"Two hundred dollars buys an awful lot of food," I countered.

"Well, I had to buy everything we need to stock our little kitchen. Besides, I'm not charging you for anything we took from my apartment. I’ll give you the receipt if it will make you happy."

"No, please, Melissa, that's not necessary." Apparently, the First Girl was not in a pleasant mood, judging by her tone.

"You alright? You don't seem very happy," I asked.

"It's just that we're both grounded until the entire house is up to Ms. Martin's standards. She spent most of the afternoon lecturing me about it, as if I were some ignorant maid." I giggled. Melissa turned on me with fire in her eyes. I tried to mollify her.

"That's not that bad, really. Together, we’ll manage it."

"There's more." Melissa hesitated a moment.

"You are responsible for all the maintenance: cars, grounds, repairs, whatever is required. You hire contractors and you supervise them."

"Wearing a French maid's uniform, I suppose," I said sarcastically.

"Don't be a smart ass with me!" Melissa snapped; so much for my efforts to calm her down. "You can if you want, otherwise it is the proper maid uniform, or the chauffeuse uniform for anything to do with the vehicles."

I climbed up in my bed that night, feeling sorry for myself and wanting out of this entire situation. Without alcohol, I was having a hard time getting to and staying asleep and was nervous and jittery all the time. What had I let myself in for? I especially wanted out of the damned steel belt that effectively denied me any pleasure. I should have gone to the damn spa.

Melissa was fair in the distribution of work and frequently we worked on the same chores together, like doing dishes, cleaning rooms, or doing the laundry and ironing. We'd been told that our days were to start at six thirty, not seven, when we had to be on call in case Ms. Martin needed us. We were to be in the kitchen preparing breakfast and planning our day by seven in any case. To be properly groomed and uniformed by six thirty meant that we had to get got out of bed by five thirty every day.

"Girl's we have an appointment with a dressmaker I've found," Ms. Martin stated one morning after we'd mostly settled into the new house and made good headway towards getting it into shape. "After you clean up here, change into afternoon uniforms and be ready to leave by nine. I want new livery for my staff."

The dressmaker's was operated by two sisters near the Realtor's office. It was a modern boutique with off street parking.

"I want both of you to keep quiet and just do as you are told while we are inside. And I especially want no protests."

"What's to protest about getting new uniforms, mum?" Melissa casually asked.

"I don't think either of you are going the like the corsets you'll have to start wearing," Ms. Martin smiled. I stared at Melissa to see her reaction. I certainly didn't like what I'd just heard.

"Hold on, mum. I agreed to be your maid, not some fetish freak."

"That will do, Melissa!" Ms. Martin barked, "You can read your contract when we get home. In the meantime, inside, both of you!"

End of Part II

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Karen Anne Summerfield and Kelly Ann Rogers. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.