Chapter 3: Maid Service

"Kathryn!" I exclaimed, opening the door.

"Hi there Paul," she said with a warm smile.

My legs gave out for a second as if I were going to kneel in front of her, but I caught myself and stood up straight. Holy shit, what had I just almost done?

Kathryn grinned. She stepped into my apartment carrying six shopping bags full of clothes, led me over to a chair by my dining table, placed the bags on the table, and told me to sit.

I sat.

"I must say," she said, selecting a wine bottle from my cabinet and opening it, "it has been so nice to have my laundry done every week."

A jolt of pleasure shot through my body. She noticed! She was happy! The sense of relief that flooded through my body made me dizzy.

"And you do such a good job," Kathryn continued, pouring herself a glass of cabernet and coming over to stand in front of me. "In fact, I don't need to think about it at all. I just drop my dirty clothes wherever, and poof! Magically they are cleaned and returned the next Monday. And did I notice that one of my blouses is new?"

"Ah, yes. It got damaged by the dry cleaners. I hope I found a suitable replacement..." I hope so! The replacement had cost me almost 90 dollars.

"The replacement was beautiful. In fact, all your work is better than I could have ever have hoped for. Thank you, Paul."

"It has been my pleasure," I said sincerely.

"Oh, I know that," Kathryn said, with an evil twinkle. "And now, I think it's time to give you even more pleasure. How would like to be abused and taken advantage of even more?"

"I ... ah..." I hesitated.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? To have more of your life enslaved to my everyday needs? Tell me 'yes', Paul, and I'll make it happen. You know I will."

"Ah..." I froze up. What was I getting myself into? Already I had given her my Mondays. The impact wasn't enormous, but I had begun noticed that it was eating into my free time. I did have a regular job, after all.

"Just say yes," Kathryn said. She placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I don't know ... I mean..."

"Say yes," she said, stroking my face warmly.

I melted.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Excellent," Kathryn said, rewarding me with a light peck on the cheek. Putting her glass of wine down, she stood behind me and placed both her hands on my shoulders.

"I need a maid," she said, simply. "Who will clean the place from top to bottom and make it sparkle, every Thursday."

"I cant!" I tried to stand up, but Kathryn grasped my shoulders tightly and forced me back down.

"Of course you can," she said, simply.

"No, I really can't. Thursdays I am expected to be in the office for staff meetings. There's nothing I can do about it."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll work it out," Kathryn said, unimpressed, "but I can see that you'll need some extra persuasion..."

Suddenly, I felt my heart skip a beat. "Extra persuasion?" I croaked.

"Yes," she said, smoothly, "like more demands. More burdensome, humiliating, evil demands."

"Humiliating?"

"Yes, of course, humiliating! Don't you think I know you by now? Don't you think I know exactly how to get you to do what I want?"

"uh..."

"And so how should I make your maid service ever so deliciously demanding and humiliating? How, I wonder?"

Kathryn pretended to think, while I squirmed.

"Let's see. Of course the job requires that you do a thorough job. You need to pick up the place, do as much filing and storage on your own as possible, vacuum, sweep, scrub the tub, do the toilets..."

I began to shiver.

"Okay, how about this: My first demand is that you kiss the toilet seat before you clean it."

"Kiss the toilet seat?"

"Yes! Kiss the toilet seat, and say 'I worship the ass which touched this seat'."

"I'm sorry Kathryn, but really, this time, I just can't..."

"Okay then, now for my second command. Have you seen some of my sex toys by the bed?"

"Yes," I blushed.

"And you've noticed that some of them have been, uh ... well used?"

"Umm..."

"It's okay. I'm sure you've looked at them. Go ahead, you can admit it."

"Yes, I ... ah ... guess I did notice that some were ... um ... used." So used, in fact, that they were positively slimy with vaginal lubrication.

"Very good! Okay, my second demand is that you clean all of my used vibrators - with your tongue."

"Oh god," I moaned. "This is going too far!" I had to stop this. "Please, Kathryn, please stop." I started to get up...

... but was held in place as Kathryn sat in my lap with an arm over my shoulder, pinning me to the seat.

"What?" Kathryn asked, mockingly, "the job is still not demanding and humiliating enough for you? Well then, did you wonder what was in these bags?"

I looked at the bags on the table.

"No," I said, hesitantly.

"They are clothes for you to wear," Kathryn said simply. "Clothes which will make your job ever so much more interesting ... I'm sure."

Suddenly, time seemed to hold still. I held my breath.

"Now, here is how this is going to work. I'm going to pull each item of clothing out of the bag. Each piece is something you must wear when you clean my apartment. I won't have it any other way. And I'm going to keep pulling items out until I hear you say 'yes'. Do you understand me?"

I nodded.

"Very good." Kathryn reached into the first bag and pulled out...

... a pair of white cotton panties.

I gasped.

"What's the big deal?" she asked, impishly. "They're just a plain white pair of WOMEN's panties. The kind that a WOMAN might wear while doing housework. You know, like the housework you will be doing for me each Thursday, isn't that right?"

"No..." I moaned, feeling my willpower slip a little.

Kathryn stroked my cheek with the panties. "But yes," she said, softly. "Oh, and in case you're wondering whether they fit or not, they fit."

"But how... ?"

"Easy. When I raped your apartment? Remember way back then? Well, I checked the labels on your clothes for size. You're a 32/32 pants, a 15 1/2 32-33 shirt, and a 9 1/2 shoe. One thing about being a surgeon, you learn to have a good memory for statistics."

I looked at her, speechless. She knew my size. I couldn't believe it. What was I dealing with?

"I can see that this is still not enough. Okay, moving on to the next item..."

Kathryn pulled out a bra and placed it before me.

" ... and here we have a WOMAN's plain nylon bra. Again, very basic, very simple, the kind of bra that WOMEN wear every day without thinking about it. Have you ever worn a bra before, Paul?"

I shook my head.

"Really? I'm surprised. I thought you might have. Well, that just makes this all the more delicious, doesn't it? My forcing you to try all these new experiences, just because I want you to. Isn't this nice?"

"No," I said.

"Ha! You're loving this. Don't deny it. But still, I don't hear you saying 'YES'. Where is the 'YES', Paul?"

I held my tongue and looked away, my eyes tightly shut.

"Now, now, no need to do that," she said, turning my head back to the bags of clothes. "Let's move on to the next item, shall we?" Kathryn reached into the bag and pulled out another package. "Stockings. What do you think?"

Against my will, I opened my eyes. They were white thigh-high stockings. The kind with elastic with a rubber lining at the top so they would stay up on their own.

"Notice that they're white?" Kathryn asked. "What kind of WOMAN wears WHITE stockings? Any idea?"

I shook my head.

"Women who work for a living. Specifically, WOMEN who work in the SERVICE industry. And so answer me this, would you call doing my housework a SERVICE or a PRODUCT? Which would it be, Paul?"

"Please..."

"Answer me. Is housework a SERVICE or a PRODUCT? Which is it?"

"A service," I muttered.

"That's right! Good for you! This means that if you do my housework, in ADDITION to my laundry, you'd be doing me a service, wouldn't you? Now, doesn't that mean you'd be in the SERVICE business? Or maybe, the SERVICE INDUSTRY? Hmmm?"

"I guess."

"Yes, of course. And what kind of WOMEN wear white stockings? Now think back, I just gave you the answer. Tell me, Paul, what kind of WOMEN wear WHITE stockings?"

"Women in the service industry," I said.

"But wait! Wouldn't YOU be wearing WHITE stockings, Paul? Wouldn't you be wearing white stockings while performing the important SERVICE of cleaning my home? Isn't that right? So what does that make you, since it's only WOMEN in the SERVICE industry that wear WHITE stockings? What are you, then, Paul?"

I kept my mouth shut.

"No matter. Well, since I haven't heard a 'yes' yet, and since I'm ever so much enjoying myself, let's see what we have next, shall we?"

Kathryn opened up the second bag and pulled out a shoebox. Opening it up, she showed them to me.

"Pumps. Grey. I think they'll go great with your stockings, don't you? And look, only a 2-inch heel, you'll get used to that in no time, won't you? Yes, I'm sure you will."

I looked at the shoes, feeling myself slipping deeper and deeper into Kathryn's clutches. This was impossible! My only hope was to keep my mouth shut until she had completely exhausted all of her clothes options, and then say 'NO'. Could I do it?

"Ooo!" Kathryn said, excitedly, hugging me close. "I suddenly realized something! This is the first piece of clothing I've shown you that you can't hide under your normal clothes."

"Oh my god..."

"That's right. Now you're out in the open, aren't you? Should have said 'yes' before I pulled them out, shouldn't you have? Oh, and did I mention that you will be required to dress in your own apartment? That means you'll have to walk across the hall all dressed up. Hope you don't meet someone in the hall! What if you do? Wouldn't that be terribly embarrassing?"

"It won't matter. I'm not saying yes. I'm not!"

"We'll see about that. I mean, I can feel you weakening already. Just think, Paul, if you say 'yes', you will be FORCED to wear ... let's see ... WOMEN's panties to cup your penis, a WOMEN's bra to caress your nipples ... WOMEN's stockings over your legs, and now ... WOMEN's shoes. High-heeled shoes at that. And now, let's see what's next?"

Kathryn pulled out a small box and then opened it.

"Earrings??" I said, shocked, looking at the plain gold studs before me.

"That's right, earrings! And look, they are for pierced ears! Why, Paul! You'll have to go to the piercing parlor down the street and get your ears pierced," Kathryn pinched my ear lobes. "Not what you were expecting, was it? Makes you think, doesn't it? Makes you wonder how far I'm willing to take this? Don't you think you better say 'YES' before things really get out of hand??"

Suddenly, I began to panic.

"But wait!" Kathryn got up from my lap and reached over to the largest bag. "Your next item is a maid's uniform!"

I looked on in horror as she pulled out a complete maid's uniform and held it out before me. It was grey, matching the shoes, with white trim, but otherwise very straight and plain. Exactly the kind of uniform that someone working in housekeeping might wear in posh hotel.

"Now you've really gone and done it," Kathryn said. "If only you had said yes last time! Now you'll have to dress up in a maid's uniform, before you cross the hall to do housekeeping on my apartment. Isn't that just wonderful? My very own maid! I just can't believe how lucky I am. My very own maid who adores me so much, that she wants me to make her own job ever so much more difficult for her, just to prove herself to me! But then, I think this is actually what you want, isn't it? To be humiliated like this?"

"No, I don't!"

"Well then, what are you going to say?" Kathryn reached slowly into the bag again, and then began to gradually, ever so slowly, pull something out, the tissue paper rustling. "Shall I continue, or shall I keep going?"

I watched, panicked, as Kathryn began to pull something else out of the bag. Something white and lacy.

Finally, I made up my mind. "Yes!" I said, quickly.

"Too late!" she said with an evil grin. She pulled out a lacy tea apron and placed it on top of the maid's uniform. "Now, what did I hear you say?"

"Yes," I said, hastily. "Yes, please, yes..."

"Yes, what?"

I gulped. "Yes, I'll clean your apartment every Thursday."

"Very good. And what else?"

"No ... please ... I can't wear that uniform!"

"Okay then!" Kathryn reached into the bag again.

"Stop! Okay! Yes, I'll wear the uniform too!"

"Too late!" Kathryn pulled out a wide piece of foundation wear, made of stretch satin. "It's a waist cinch," she said. "And I think it's probably one or two sizes too small for you. Now what were you saying?"