My Wife the Womanizer

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The doorbell rang and my heart galloped, as it always did whenever the bell rang. If I kept totally focused on what Mistress wanted, everything was usually okay. However, unforeseen events, like doorbells for instance, almost always spelled trouble.

I hurried to find my Mistress and curtsied automatically as I entered her room. “Mistress, there is someone at the door.”

She stood with her back to me, stepping into a small black dress. “You think I don’t know that,” she said. “Zip me bitch.”

I could feel myself grow aroused at the sight of her half naked body. You’re just the maid – you’re just the maid, I repeated in my head. I zipped her dress and picked a stray piece of lint off her shoulder.

“I want you to go let the guest in now Stacy and show her to the living room. It is going to be very important that you remember your lessons. You might say this is a KEY moment.”

My heart went beyond racing – it galloped, it pounded, it gonged at the mention of a key. Yet through it all, I managed to keep my expression neutral. ‘Smiling and submissive, smiling and submissive,’ I repeated to myself.

“You do you remember your lessons, don’t you Stacy?”

“Oh yes Mistress,” I said, and I grabbed the hem of my short skirt, lifted it, and curtsied deeply. “Slut Stacy is happy, Mistress. Happy and eager, but she has such a hard time thinking. It’s good she has a kind, smart, and generous mistress like you.”

I batted my eyes, pointed my toes together in my tall high-heeled shoes, giggled and licked my lips seductively. There was an art in acting like such a slutty bimbo, and it hadn’t come easy, but by now it was second nature.

“Very good Stacy. See that you remember or I will send you off again.”

I fell to my knees and proceeded to lick her heels. I worshipped them with my tongue, begged her not to send me away, and meant it.

“Stop your sniveling slut,” she said. “Do something useful like anwering the door.”

I got up, curtsied again, and turned to leave.

“Remember Stacy, happy, eager, and submissive.”

“Oh yes, Mistress.” I said, smiling and curtsying. How could I ever forget?

I hurried downstairs, opened the door, bowing as I did so. “Welcome to the Arlington residence. . .Whoopsie daisy!” My breast’s spilled out of the low cup top just as they were supposed to. Of course I had to act surprised and stupid about the whole thing. I placed my hand over my nipples, and was just about to go into my ‘naughty girls, you know better than that routine, when I glanced up at the visitor. I couldn’t continue for a moment when I recognized the guest. It was Stacy! The real Stacy! My real Stacy. I closed my eyes momentarily and concentrated. God, this was bad. Really fucking bad. Happy Eager Submissive Bimbo Fuck Toy Happy Eager Submissive Bimbo Fucktoy, I repeated in my mind. You are just the maid Stacy. Only the maid.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in character. “Mistress Amanda will be down shortly. Please follow me. I think it’s this way”

“Thank you,” she said, without a hint of recognition in her eyes. I could hear the amusement in her voice.

I led her to the living room, knowing full well she was watching me walk. I had practiced it often enough, and now it was second nature as I brought my foot forward and stepped inside the other with every step, rolling my hips as I did so. It was a walk that would shame a prostitute or exotic dancer. My uniform was so short that it allowed whoever was behind me to see the cheeks of my bottom peek out with every step.

I showed her to the living room. Stacy sat on the couch, while I waited patiently by the door, trying not to look at her, trying to blend in with the scenery, so she wouldn’t notice me – wouldn’t notice who I was. I quivered inside, trembling in fear, wondering what my Mistress had planned.

Waiting was agony, but thankfully, it wasn’t but a few minutes before Amanda entered the room.

“Hello, Stacy, so nice of you to drop by,” Amanda said, taking Stacy’s hands and clasping them, before sitting down next to her.

“What is it exactly that you want?” Stacy asked, unsure of herself, and letting the question hang.

“Well Dearie, I was so wrapped up in myself at first, you know, after Adam disappeared, that I really didn’t think about anyone else. But eventually I felt quite guilty when I realized you must be going through a lot of grief yourself. So I thought we could have a chat and maybe rest your mind a bit.”

“Uh-what do you mean?” Stacy said, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

“Dear, I know all about you and Adam. There’s nothing to worry about. I don’t have a problem with it.”

Stacy removed a hand from Amanda’s grasp and pressed it to her breast. “Whew,” she said. “Are you sure? God, I about peed myself when you called and asked me to come over here.”

Amanda patted Stacy on the knee, in mock consolation. “Not at all dear. I feel sorry for you in a way, because Adam was never much of a lover.”

My face burned as she continued.

“But you do have to understand that I did get very upset with my husband. I mean, he couldn’t even satisfy the woman he had at home and there he was flitting around like he was Mr. Man or something.”

Amanda took a small bell from the table and rang it. “Stacy,” she said to me. “Be a dear and go get us a glass of wine. Something red.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said, curtsying quickly before Stacy looked in my direction.

I was trembling as I poured the wine. Happy-Eager-Submissive-Fucktoy, I repeated to try to still my shaking hands. Things weren’t looking good for me, but Mistress had mentioned the key. I needed the key more than anything. I repeated my mantra and thought about the key, and plastered a dumb smile on my face.

Mistress Amanda took a glass of wine off the silver tray I carried and gave the other to Stacy. “Don’t you think it’s funny Stacy, how your name is Stacy and my maid is also named Stacy.”

Oh God, here it was.

Stacy’s brow wrinkled with uncertainty. “I guess it could be funny, but lots of people are named Stacy,” she said, looking at me as if for support. Her eyes saying, do you have to put up with this often?

If only she knew what I had to put up with. This was nothing.

“I think the similarity goes beyond names,” said Amanda. “Look closer, the resemblance between you two is uncanny.”

Amanda looked at me closer this time. She recognized why her eyes were drawn to me earlier. I did look like her. But while she was professionally dressed and wore minimal makeup, I was dressed in a humiliating maid’s outfit, my waist shrunken to tiny proportions due to a restrictive corset, my breasts, though the same size as hers, were thrust up, practically spilling out of my low-cut top, and my face was heavily made up.

“Well, she does look a little like me,” Stacy said.

“A little?” Amanda said. “I daresay you could have been sisters. But enough about family, let’s talk about lovers.” To me: “Speaking of lovers. Stacy, why don’t you go fetch your boyfriend and bring him here.”

Oh God, it was happening. I curtsied, and saw Stacy head turn in my direction. I wondered if she had seen the glint of metal. If she hadn’t she would soon enough.

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