He looked intently at the beautiful woman standing so elegantly in the lounge. Her legs were most beautifully shaped by the pose she was forced into by wearing such high heels. The stockings were pulled tight by the garter belt. The black ribbons of the straps looked so tantalising against the white of her thighs.
The panties revealed the mound of her pussy and that it had been waxed. The halo of blonde hair surrounding her head looked magnificent. The bustier seemed to be straining under the load of large breasts without straps to support them.
What to do with her now he had her? Last night he had imagined what he would do with this attractive woman but the fantasies had evaporated like a mirage now she was here. Relax he told himself. She would wait patiently for anything he wanted, anything at all, just so long as he handled her right.
He sat down on the sofa looking up at his prize. It was so much more than he expected. From this angle her panties were clearly on show and he smiled at the swollen camel toe. “Those panties look uncomfortably tight did you bring anything else to wear?” He asked.
She delved into the shopping bag and brought out a range of panties bought, reluctantly holding them up to him for inspection. ‘What am I doing? These little things are so vulgar.’
“Which ones would you prefer to change into?” He asked.
“Oh! I don’t know you decide.” She said. ‘What the hell am I saying? It was bad enough showing him these naughty things and the idea of wearing them is so embarrassing. I can’t walk around with him knowing what underwear I have on, especially these flimsy little panties.
He looked at the frown upon her face and guessed at the turmoil of thoughts. “You’re wondering why you are here.” He had her full attention and decided to push it further along. The commands last night set her up for this morning’s phone call but she needed greater reinforcement.
“Take a look at yourself in the mirror.” He said. She still wasn’t aware of the clothes she was wearing having been ordered to ignore the changes to her appearance. It was time to remind her.
“What kind of woman do you look like?” He asked.
“Like a dumb blonde?” She replied. ‘Damn, what’s happened to my voice? I sound like a pathetic squeaky doll. How did I get to look like this? It’s so difficult to think straight.’ She thought.
“That’s right, you look like, sound like and think like a dumb blonde.” He told her with a firm voice. “So what are you?”
“I’m a dumb blonde.” She replied. ‘That little squeaky voice again, what is happening to me?’ She wondered, feeling more confused than ever. Every time she tried to search for a reason for what was happening a cloud seemed to obscure her thinking.
‘So I’m a dumb blonde, well that explains why I can’t think straight.’ She mused. The thought seemed to relax her somewhat.
“Keep looking into the mirror. What are you wearing?”
“I’m wearing a maid uniform.” She said with a look of surprise. ‘Why am I wearing this getup?’ She wondered.
“If you’re wearing a maid uniform then what does that mean?” He asked smoothly.
“I… I guess I’m a maid?” She said in a sing-song girly voice.
“That’s right, good girl. You’re in my house so that makes you my maid doesn’t it.”
She stared at herself in the mirror not wanting to believe the image. She turned from side to side but it was her as unsettling the idea was. The more she stared the more she accepted the new look. After all she picked the dress and came here wearing it so it must be true. “Yes Sir.” She replied.
“Does it look sexy do you think?”
“Yes sir. It looks, it looks, sexy. ” She said. ‘The petticoats look so sweet and feminine it’s just so lovely.’ She cooed to herself. Helen wanted to twirl the pretty dress around and around but couldn’t take her eyes away from the mirror.
“So take a good look at yourself and tell me what you are.”
“I’m you’re maid, sir. I mean I’m your sexy French maid sir.” She said with a girly giggle.
“Good girl you have worked out what you are doing here. As you said you are my sexy French maid.” He told her.
“Yes, sir, thank you sir.” She said with an inane giggle. ‘I feel much better knowing why I’m here.’ She thought.
“I am the master in this house, so as you are a servant here, that makes me your master. Do you understand?” He watched her struggling with the idea hoping she would accept all he told her.
‘I’m a maid obviously but there seems to be something else I should remember. Something isn’t right but it seems so difficult to think clearly.’ Giving up she replied.
“I am a maid and a servant in your house so you are my master.” She said. There was a nagging doubt and she wondered if this was right.
“Good girl, that is correct. What will you do now?” He asked.
“Well?” She pondered a moment still looking at the image in the mirror. The powerful image was reinforcing his words and steering her thoughts. “I’m your sexy French maid and I’m waiting for your orders, Sir.” She said, trying hard to dispel the doubts.
“That’s a good girl you are right again. You must wait on my instructions and obey my orders. So, as my sexy French maid you will be doing what ever your master commands. Is that clear?” He asked.
“Yes, thank you sir.” She felt much better now her master had cleared everything up for her. It was nice to know her place and what to do. A feeling of contentment swept over her now she no longer had to think too much.
She turned from the mirror to face him and looked down at the floor between her feet. Though her breasts got in the way she nevertheless struck a subservient pose.
“I am your sexy French maid and must do as I’m told, Sir. Do you have instructions for me, sir?”