Message-ID: X-Archived-At: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: From: stbush@iglou.com (S THOMAS BUSH) Subject: BOMBADIL 1: "Panties" Part 2 "Panties" - Part 2 / 2 by Tom Bombadil (c) Nov 1996 Disclaimer: All the standard rules apply. If you are offended by explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is illegal to possess such materials at your location, if you are under-age by law in your location, or if somebody else thinks you might have too much fun reading it, stop right now and remove this text from your computer. This is purely a work of fiction, with all characters and actions described by me coming straight out of my imagination. As a work of fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the activities or actions described, nor does it relate to any type of real events in my life, or known to me in the lives of any of my friends or relatives. You've been warned. ******************************************************************** The following Saturday turned out to be the first really hot day of the year. The Mr. and Mrs. were gone until Sunday, The Battleaxe had taken the day off and was due back very late, and Timothy was out with some friends camping for the weekend. That left myself, Hannah, and Jodie, one of Hannah's closest chums, all alone. Their plan was to bake in the sun, swim, and gab all day, with possible interruptions for minor details like lunch. They convinced me to join them for some of the swimming and baking, but I definitely wore my suit. Them two, of course, were as bare as the day they were born. I tried not to be too obvious with my staring, but blonde haired brown eyed Jodie was almost as good looking as Hannah - tall, slender, and modestly built - and she had nearly as good a bottom . For some strange reason, I kept picturing what her backside would look like, suspended over my knee, and bright red from a good paddling. It was very hard to purge the vision from of my mind. Of course, as soon as that image left, one of the various recurring daydreams I'd been having about Hannah would pop up. Several times through the morning I had to jump into the pool to have an excuse for why my crotch was wet. Hannah, of course, spent a good part of the morning trying to talk me into going skinny dipping with the two of them, trying to get me nude, like she'd been doing since the day after I arrived. I had the feeling she was really interested in my breasts. I've got a pair of 33D's, and they're solid and well maintained. On my moderate frame <5'1", 105 lbs> they look positively huge. The truth is, I was probably bigger than Hannah, Fiona, and Ms. Tiff all put together. That's not bragging, since I'm not overly fond of having such obvious features, just fact, and might possibly have explained Hannah's fascination with me. "Come on, " she said. "It's only us girls here. Nobody else can see us. We're completely alone. What's wrong with living a little, of getting some thrills out of life? It's glorious! You'll never know how good this is until you try it!" Needless to say, I didn't. Hannah cooked lunch and served it on the patio. She also served up a crisp white wine to go with the pasta . It was a nice, calm, peaceful day, with nothing planned, so I had a glass. We sat around the table talking for a long while, so I had another. Have I already mentioned how alcohol affects me? Well, that hadn't changed any. I went and laid down on a lounger, face down, ready for some more sun . I was feeling very mellow. Hannah offered to oil down my back for me, so I let her. She did my back, my arms, my legs, and my neck. She also slipped the straps off my shoulders and down my arms. I let her get away with that. Somewhere in the back of my mind I also knew that she was doing much more than just rubbing oil on, but it felt so good, I couldn't complain. I didn't even say anything when I realized there were four hands busy on my body. The way I was feeling, I'm not sure I could have said anything intelligible anyway. Later, waking me out of a semi-doze, she got me to flip over. She again offered to oil me down, so I just smiled and nodded, closing my eyes. Well, she did another wonderful job, starting with my feet and working up to my chest and arms. When I realized she was doing my entire chest, I opened my eyes to look. They were both there, one on either side, each handling one breast. My suit was pushed down to my waist. It felt so good, I just closed my eyes and let them play. I was definitely drunk and feeling really mellow. That sun did feel nice on my bare skin too, what little got past the two of them. After I woke up, possibly for the third or fourth time, I pulled up my suit and went for a swim. The cool water felt delicious on my overheated skin. Hannah and Jodie came out of the house and jumped in too, so we played around a bit in the water, splashing each other, trying to dunk one another and generally having a good time. Both of them decided they needed more sun, so they towelled down and flopped onto the loungers. "It's your turn to oil us up," Hannah said. "Yeah," agreed Jodie. "We've done you twice, now it's time to return the favour." Twice? I remembered once. Did I miss out on a second helping? Or did she consider front and rear two different episodes. "Next time," I decided, "I'll skip that extra glass of wine." Jodie was on her stomach, so I did everything from her neck to her toes. I definitely paid more attention than I needed to on her bottom. She was purring by the time I finished. I could tell she spent a lot of time visiting because she had no tan lines at all, not even old faint hints of ones. I was jealous. Not just because of all the time she'd spent with Hannah, but also because she dared to run around nude so much. My embarrassment, my prudery, all the lessons hammered into me by my parents, were starting to crack. I was scared of what I might become if they all suddenly crumbled. Hannah was next, and she was waiting for me. Stretched out on her back, arms reaching way over her head, she asked me to start with her fingers. So I did. I gave her the same kind of deep, firm, decidedly relaxing massage I remembered from many years ago. I missed nothing, but stopped just above her bush. The poor darling whined and complained when I paused because she was expecting me to visit her naughty bits next. Instead, I started over again with her toes and worked in the opposite direction. By the time I got to her hips, she was moaning and slowly rolling about, and her thighs were definitely relaxed and wide open, showing me everything, including a hot, pink, rather excited-looking little nubbin peeking out from its hideaway. I couldn't help myself. I went playing. It had been a long, long time since I'd enjoyed myself like that, and she was a very willing partner. An hour later she was exhausted, and I needed relief in the worst way. I left her lying there and went down to my room, locking the door behind me. It was a half hour or so before I finally staggered out of there and into the shower. Tuesday night my secretive admirer was back, waking me at a ridiculous time in the morning. For some reason, I didn't mind. "Stop. No. It's not right" I whispered. "I can't let you do this to me." Once again, he ignored my protests, as I hoped he would. Three quarters of an hour later he was licking me through my panties, bringing on an orgasm the likes of which I hadn't felt in ten years. Not since Sally moved away. He left after some further touching and stroking, bringing me down slowly from my high. He *really* knew how to get me off. Didn't my husband ever do things like that for me, you ask? Ha! Chortle! Derisive laughter! As far as he was concerned, anything outside of Straight Missionary was perverted. When I asked him to lick me, down there, he called me sick. The one time I licked him down there, he screamed almost like I'd bitten it off or something. Most of my education, and enlightenment, came from Joan, my next door neighbour when I lived with Steve. She was, I finally realized, a normal housewife. Back then she seemed like a wild and wanton sex fiend. She told me about things she and her husband did together, things I'd never even imagined possible. One time when I was over there, she let me watch a dirty movie they'd rented the night before. I couldn't believe my eyes! I had to run home and rub myself like crazy. Another time she tried to give me a vibrating dildo. Despite my very real curiosity and desire, I had to refuse. If Steve had found it, he'd have divorced me on the spot. He considered masturbation almost as bad as one of the cardinal sins. He was a lot like my father. Friday night, after a wonderful restaurant dinner and evening out with the whole crew , my visitor was back. I was feeling just fine, all ready for him. "No, please, you shouldn't be doing this," I whispered. He got up and left. I lay there, mouth open in shock, disappointed as heck! He left! He left me high and dry! I wasn't even wearing panties, hoping he'd show up! There was no joy in Mudville that night. Or much sleep. I had some serious thinking to do, especially when it came to my priorities. Up until then, I'd been hiding behind my token resistance. I hadn't really been considering myself an active participant, since it was happening to me without my overt approval. Now my resistance wasn't considered token any more. I was very grumpy the next morning. Everybody else was cheerful as anything. That made me even grumpier. A week later, Saturday again , Hannah, Jodie, and I had the place to ourselves again. For the whole day, again. I wonder how many favours she had to call in, or how many IOU's she had to write, to arrange that repeat. She was trying very hard for a return performance, or maybe more. When they asked me to oil them down in the morning, that's exactly what I did. No massage, no playing, nothing extra. I had to hide my grin when I saw the disappointed looks on their faces. We swam a bit, and talked a bit, and I did some reading and some writing , all before lunch. Hannah cooked us some beautiful quiches for our meal and, again, served wine. Oh, she was trying hard, she was. Despite what they thought they saw, I only drank a half glass of the potent potable she served. The rest ended up elsewhere. I wanted to be at least aware of what the afternoon would bring forth. Again, feigning dizziness, and half convincing myself it wasn't faked, I laid down on the lounger. Just like last time, Hannah offered to do my back, and I let her. I let the two of them get away with everything they did without a murmur of protest. It felt good, and they did manage to get me oiled up, eventually. Once again, my straps ended up down by my elbows. They disappeared for a while, so I soaked up some sun. When they came back, they got me to flip over onto my back. It was a repeat performance up until they slipped the top of my suit down to my waist. When they did, I lifted my hips. It took them about a second and a half to realize it was an invitation, and less than that to get my suit off. My blush told them I *was* aware of what was happening, but my closed eyes told them I didn't want to admit it. Despite what I had done, embarrassment was a very real player in the game. I was, after all, quite naked, outside, with other people looking at me. That went against most of my childhood teachings. It took them a long time, and a lot of foreplay, before I'd let my legs loosen up. By then I was hot enough not to care. A few minutes after Hannah's fingers got busy in my privates, I wouldn't have cared if a parade got lost and wandered through the yard. She had a magical touch. Embarrassment was forgotten. Propriety was forgotten. All that existed was my body and those hands. And the mouth which suddenly attached itself to one of my breasts. And, a short while later, the crotch which somehow ended up on my face . I didn't question how, I just started licking and sucking and tasting what I'd been missing seemingly forever. I was in heaven. After an eternity or two had passed I sort-of came back to the real world. Jodie was asleep, I thought, on a lounger on one side of me, and Hannah was slowly diddling herself on a lounger on the other side. Ignoring my state of undress, as well as everything else, I crawled over and planted my face where her fingers were. I think I was in overdose mode after such a long abstinence, and simply couldn't get enough. My rational mind was obviously off in la-la-land somewhere. Hannah realized what was going on after maybe an hour or so and put me to bed. Forcefully. With Jodie's help. With a lot more touching and playing around. That took another hour. I think. That's what Hannah eventually told me, anyway. So I woke up later with a hangover, and it wasn't from the wine. The rest of me felt fine. I couldn't stop blushing, even when I realized I was alone in my bed. Upstairs, the two of them were just getting into some pizza, so I had some too, and we sat around watching videos for the rest of the night. It was enjoyable, despite the fact that I was blushing at just about everything, even the most innocuous comment. I slept the sleep of the dead that night. It had been far, far too long since I'd enjoyed good sex. That was the day I realized I'd never had good sex with my husband . Thursday of the following week, the Mr. and Mrs. took off for four days. That left me in charge again. Friday all hell broke loose. Timothy got into a fight at school, and lost, badly. Hannah found out about it and took on his attackers, all three of them, and beat them soundly . One attacker had a broken nose, the second had three cracked ribs, and I never heard about the third one's injuries. Hannah had lots of bruises and scrapes to show for her efforts as well, including a nicely swollen black eye. Timothy was in no better shape. Needless to say I was busy with the vice principal, the principal, the police, the folks in the emergency room, and a number of students and parents, for the rest of that day and most of that night. Ms. Tiff was a great help through it all . She looked at me, smirked, and said "Hey, enjoy your job. I've got cleaning to do." She did keep tabs on how all the kids were doing in the hospital at least. Small favours and all that. How I managed to keep myself from losing it, and just burying my head in the sand, I don't know. Maybe it was because I was doing it for someone else. Facing up to all those angry, upset, and emotional people was one of the more difficult things I'd ever done. Of course, nobody ever did tell me why those kids attacked Timothy. Very early Saturday morning, after everything was settled, after the twins were resting in their beds, I crawled off into my nice, warm, safe little nest and cried myself to sleep. I couldn't help it. The emotional backlash of staying straight and stable through the whole situation simply overwhelmed me. I didn't wake up again until late Saturday night. I had some dinner, checked on my charges, and went back to sleep. Sunday was nice. I fed both kids breakfast in bed. The Battleaxe smirked at me the whole time. She treated Timothy's bruises and abrasions, so I treated Hannah's. She wiggled and squirmed and squeaked and moaned about how I was torturing her poor, abused body. With a grin on my face I told her that if she didn't settle down I'd give her a good paddling to go along with the other hurts she had. After that she was quiet, other than when I touched some genuinely tender spots. She was giving me the oddest looks, ones I didn't recognize. So I ignored them. I was calm, cool, collected, and professional about the whole business. It was only when I'd finished the last bandage that I let my hands wander. When I saw Ms. Tiff again, during dinner, she was still smirking. I thought about that smirk. Then I thought about what had been said during our meeting . I also ran through the events on Friday, and what she'd done. Or rather, what she hadn't done. "Ms. Tiff," I said. "I've been thinking." "Oh?" she said. "About what?" That smirk was definitely annoying. "Well, I've been thinking about last Friday, and what happened. Specifically, I've been thinking about what you said and did, and about your attitude since then." Her smirk faded a little, then came back, but looked a little forced. She just stared at me without saying anything. I felt the butterflies, felt the fear, and knew I was blushing, but I didn't think I had any choice in what I was about to do. Not if I was going to survive the next year. I stared back. "I don't think you did what you should have, Ms. Tiff. I think you went out of your way to make things harder on me, to see if I'd crack. Didn't you, Ms. Tiff." She still said nothing, but the smirk was fading again. "In fact," I said, "when I asked you for help, you basically refused. Isn't that right, Ms. Tiff." She was still silent, but the smirk was gone, replaced by a look of apprehension and, well, expectancy is the only way I can describe it. Her eyes were locked on mine, and I felt like squirming in my seat and looking away, but I didn't. It was another test, one of wills. I had to win. "Do you think you should be punished, Ms. Tiff?" I stared at her, waiting for an answer. Any answer. If she spoke, she would acknowledge that I was truly in charge. Finally, after what felt like several hours, she whispered one word. "Yes." Despite wanting to breathe a huge sigh of relief, and maybe laugh a little, I stayed outwardly calm and cool. "What would be an appropriate punishment for willful disobedience," I asked. Again, I had to wait for an answer. It was a strain to hear her answer, but answer she did. "Twenty five lashes with the crop." Finally her face dropped, her gaze becoming riveted to the floor. I had won. "Is the drawing room appropriate for this punishment?" "Yes" she whispered. "Go prepare yourself. I'll meet you there in a while." After she'd gone, I finally managed to take a few deep breaths. I had never before been forced to impose my will upon someone else, so the experience was very new, and very frightening. I don't know if others would have interpreted the tingling in my limbs and the fluttering in my chest as being thrilled or excited or not, but to me, it was just the after effects from too much tension and fear. I needed something to calm my nerves, so I made myself a cup of coffee and forced myself to sit and drink the whole thing. Eventually I went to see her. Timothy and Hannah were also there, sitting on the sofa, waiting expectantly. Apparently they thought this was a spectator sport. Since The Battleaxe hadn't chased them out, I let them stay. She was naked and leaning up against a wall, arms over her head, bottom jutting out. On a table nearby sat what I assumed was the crop. Wasting no time, I started in. She coached me through the first half dozen strokes, setting the pace and the strength of the blows. Again, my first few were too light and she didn't count them. By blow twenty five she was vibrating, letting out a squeak with each rapid breath. Hannah called out "again", and since there were no objections I did. Then again. And again. She took six more blows before the vibrating stopped and she slumped and started breathing heavily. The twins sat there, obviously waiting for something, so I waited as well. When Ms. Tiff finally regained her breath and her strength, she turned to me and spoke. "Thank you, Ms. Hennersly. I'm sorry for what I did wrong, and I promise not to do it again." It was the exact same speech I'd received from the twins. She left then, and I watched her walk out the door. The welts coming up on her bottom and the backs of her thighs looked very sore and painful, so I knew she'd have a hard time sitting or lying on her back for some time. It was also quite strange seeing how wet her crotch and the insides of her thighs were. "You'd almost think ... nah." I buried that thought quickly. I had enough trouble getting my own mind and body back into order. I felt wrung out, exhausted, almost drained, as if I'd been the one getting punished, not her. Then I realized that I'd been close to panic the whole time. The tingling after effects were still there. I had to go change my panties. For some reason they were soaked through. An hour later I was in her room applying salve to her welts. I could tell that she'd tried doing it herself, but hadn't managed very well. Neither of us said a word. I finished the job, gave her a pat on the back, and left. She just sighed. Monday afternoon was a time of explanations. Mrs. Carlton was home and demanded to know about every little detail. She took it well, and congratulated me on handling things so nicely. Later, in private, when we talked about Ms. Tiff, she laughed. "The woman was still playing games with you. Whenever she starts getting that way with me, I give her fifty with the crop. The first ones she likes. The last ones are the punishment. Next time you'll know." "Next time?" I thought to myself. "Will there be a next time? Will I survive a next time?" The following Sunday the Mr. and Mrs. left for a week. Monday, I had an accident. I wasn't watching where I was going, tripped, banged into a sideboard in the front room, and ended up breaking a vase. It was a foolish accident, and the noise brought Ms. Tiff running. I explained to her what happened, and she started that smirk again. "So, you were careless. Now an expensive vase is broken." I didn't like that smirk. Something was wrong. "Yes. It was an accident. I said that already." "True, but it was a careless accident. Mrs. Carlton will be unhappy." The Battleaxe was getting too happy. Something was very odd. Strange, even. "Yes," I said. "Mrs. Carlton will probably be upset. But it was an accident." "I'm sure she'll take that into consideration, when ..." She was being far too melodramatic for my peace of mind. "Spill it, Ms. Tiff. Why are you grinning like a Cheshire cat?" "Well, it's like this. Mrs. Carlton will take into consideration the fact that it was an accident, so she'll probably make your punishment light." If she was grinning any wider, her face would have split open. Punishment. I didn't like that word. The last couple of times I'd heard it, people got smacked. "Punishment," I asked. I knew I wouldn't like the answer. "Oh, yes. I'm sure Mrs. Carlton will be punishing you for your mistake. It'll be something to look forward to. That is, if you stick around." She didn't laugh or chortle or snicker or anything. She looked ready to do all three as she walked off. Almost in a daze I went and fixed myself a cup of coffee, then sat down. I was going to get a paddling. Or something. If I wanted to keep my job. Was it worth it? I'd been embarrassed almost to the point of humiliation. I had nowhere else to go. The pay was good. The work was easy. Timothy was there. Hannah was there. I'd had to administer corporal punishment. I was going to get a paddling. Or something. I thought about that part over and over again. Images of what the punishment would be like kept popping up. I was picturing Mrs. Carlton sitting in that chair, holding that paddle, and waiting for me. Ms. Tiff, Mr. Carlton, Hannah, and Timothy were sitting on the couch, watching. Me, naked, walking up to her and draping myself over her knee. Then pain. The hidden memories of how Hannah and Ms. Tiff reacted to their punishments surfaced. Those memories bothered me. I really didn't want to find out why they reacted the way they did to the pain. I sat there and thought for a while, with those images flashing through my head. A week. I had to go change my panties. They were soaked through. Monday night my nocturnal visitor was back. His touch on my toes sent electric thrills right through my whole body. I was ready, I thought. He worked on my foot for several minutes before I told him to wait. Steeling myself, I skinned off my panties and placed them over my foot. I figured that only a fool would miss an invitation like that. I whispered out an okay, and almost immediately he found my nylon covered appendage. He was definitely no fool. I don't know where he got his patience from, but I was vibrating by the time he finished bathing the insides of my thighs with his tongue. That first lick, running from my bottom hole right to the top of my crack, sliding across my wet hole and my clit, sent me over the edge. Yes, he had an educated tongue and he knew how to use it. I squirmed, I moaned, I yelped, but most of all, I flowed. He kept lapping it up, which made me make more, which he lapped up, which made me make more, which he lapped up, which ... I thought he would never stop. And he was merciless with my poor defenseless little clit, taking no prisoners, attacking with wild abandon. There was licking on and around it, warm and cold blowing, lips sucking and pulling, teeth scraping and biting, and even some fingernails working away for a while. I had no idea where he'd learned how to handle female body parts, and didn't care. It was enough that he was using that knowledge to bring me off like nobody had ever done before. I think I screamed once or twice, but I'm not sure. By the time he left, my clit was sore. Happy, well satisfied, but sore. It wouldn't let the rest of me go to sleep. So I went upstairs and fixed myself a hot chocolate . I was just draining the dregs at the bottom of the cup when Timothy came walking in the back door. "Timothy? Isn't it a bit late to be going out?" That's when I noticed he was soaked to the skin. It had been raining earlier in the evening, but wasn't right then. Something deep inside of me began to tremble. He gave me a curious look before answering. "Well, actually I'm just getting home. I had a little car trouble, and it took quite some time to get a service truck out to help me. Then I had a flat. It's been a miserable night." He practically growled as he pulled off his wet shoes and wet coat. I told him to go have a hot shower or a soak in the Jacuzzi before getting into bed, and he looked rather pleased with those orders. I sat there for a while with an empty cup in my hand. Timothy was too wet, too cold, and too miserable to be faking, so I had to believe he'd been out all evening. That left me with a teeny weeny little question. Who'd been in bed with me only an hour beforehand? All I knew was that the person had short hair. I'd grabbed it often enough that night. Everyone living in the house, except me, had short hair. Was it Fiona? Hannah? Mr. Carlton? The Battleaxe? I tried to remember who else was home during those visits. Thoughts of the first time came back, and I realized that it could only have been Hannah or Ms. Tiff. Picturing Ms. Tiff crawling around between my thighs made me shiver, despite the fact that whomever it was had given me the most intense climaxes of my life. She looked good, she had a nice body, but she scared the bejesus out of me. I prayed that it was Hannah. I thought back to my experience earlier that night. My insides began to flutter. I couldn't help but remember that a punishment was also in the offing. Images of what that would be like ran rampant through my mind. I had a week to wait. Would I still be there? Did I have the courage, or stupidity, to stick around? Would it be worth going through the torment to continue the pleasure? I had to go change my panties. [Diane's tale] I was very nervous, standing there on the veranda, waiting for someone to answer the door. Mrs. Carlton was going to introduce me to her family and staff, and then we'd have the final interview which would determine whether or not I got the job. Me, becoming a majordomo, looking after a kitchen, a pair of seventeen year old twins, and the rest of the house staff. Well, if I emulated my great aunt, I'd have no trouble with the work. That's why I wanted this job so bad - I *had* to get out from under her thumb! Fiona answered the door herself, which surprised me. I thought the staff was supposed to do that. "Hello Diane. I'm glad you decided to come." "Hi Mrs. Carlton." She invited me in and escorted me down a short hall to a beautiful living room. The rest of the family and staff were there, all fully dressed. I relaxed a little at that, since I'd half expected them all to be quite naked, what with the lifestyle Fiona had described to me. When they all stood, it made me feel like a little child. Fiona was tall, a foot taller than me, but I hadn't expected her to be the second shortest person there . If I'd had to stand there looking up for very long I'd have gotten a sore neck for sure. She introduced me to everyone. Her husband Steve looked great. Her daughter Hannah was beautiful. The housekeeper Ms. Tiff was striking. But it was her son, Timothy, who got my motor cranked. He was beautiful. Not rugged and handsome like his Dad, but delicate, sensual, with huge expressive eyes. He was slim, fit, toned, and looked delicious. I had to turn away before I started drooling. It was then that I remembered Fiona mentioning a maid, just as that woman walked in the door. Remember what I said about everyone wearing clothes? Well, she wasn't. She was a natural blonde, with a muff slightly darker than the halo on top. The highlights in her hair and the just-so makeup she wore brought out her beauty. It helped that she had a very shapely body. Fading tan lines told me she'd recently stopped wearing a one-piece swimsuit. I stared. Not that I was really attracted to her or anything, it's just that she looked so much like me, other than my hair being a bright red. Same height, same shape, same breasts, and very nearly the same features. She could have been my long-lost sister. One small correction. She wasn't completely nude. At first glance I thought she was wearing a white choker. When I finally got around to looking at it a little more carefully, I realized that it wasn't a choker. It was a white leather collar, and it was fastened on with a tiny padlock. Mrs. Carlton broke me out of my trance by asking me if I'd like anything to drink. I needed something bad by then, so I said yes to some wine. Anything to calm my nerves. Fiona told Trudy to take everyone's orders and return with the beverages as soon as possible. Nobody said anything until the woman came back and handed out the glasses. That's when the strangest thing of all happened. Trudy looked at Mrs. Carlton, almost like she was asking for approval for something. When she received a grin and a nod, she almost ran over to Hannah, smiling bright as the sun, and crawled up into the girl's lap. It was the craziest sight, the nude woman curled up like a cat, eyes half closed, almost purring, and getting her back stroked just like a tabby. She glanced at me once and gave me a look full of contentment, arousal, and something that looked like possessiveness. The job was obviously going to be much weirder than I had imagined. I almost bolted, but thoughts of going back to my aunt's home made me determined enough to stick it out. Well, after a fairly lengthy, very personal, and highly embarrassing series of questions and answers, I got the job. I also got my own room in the basement, keys to a car, the royal tour and a whole list of duties and responsibilities. I was thinking of asking her what she meant by administering discipline, but figured someone would explain it to me if it became necessary. I had four days to get everything settled, get moved in, and get ready for work. It was Time For Action. I was looking forward to my new job, especially if I got to see more of that Timothy. I did wonder, though, where they found that maid. She never said a single thing around me, either during the interview or afterwards. She made me nervous. Later that day I had a chance to watch Timothy splashing around in the pool with a few of his friends, all of whom were nude. That almost made me giddy. If you're wondering, I hadn't had an unchaperoned date in five years, ever since my high school grad. My great aunt, the Dragon Lady, made sure of that. If she even knew I was at this job interview, never mind the perks , she'd have locked me in my room for six months. I believe it made her almost physically ill to think of me having a life of my own, out of her control. She'd been running my life for so long it was hard for me to imagine being free. I really thought the job would be a perfect stepping stone for getting out on my own. Even thinking those thoughts, running them through my mind again, I was still staring at the sights. Seeing all those fit, tanned, handsome, and exposed examples of manliness got me steaming. When I finally arrived home I had to change my panties. ******************************************************************** -- Story Submission: Moderator Contact: Newsgroup FAQ: Archive site (could be better):