Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 13.

by Jackie J

It was around eight in the evening behind the closed blinds of room 1260 of a lavish five star hotel in Singapore that a phone burst into life. A finely manicured hand reached over the bed and a sweet little thing giggled. Pulling back the sheets Yi Ying held up the phone above the gagged and blindfolded face of a struggling Michael Lucas.

Michael could not have picked a worst time to be indulging his fantasy. Bewigged, his face expertly made up ,dressed in expensive lingerie and a pretty pink dress and bound hand and foot, gagged and blindfolded he squirmed and moaned Yi Ying’s other hand caressing his sissy manhood through his silky panties.

Yi Ying giggled.

“O, phone call for you. Mister Michael, no answer now, too busy, you my girl, you busy girl.”

Yi Ying pressed the reject call button and tossed the phone across the room.

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 12.

by Jackie J

Following the evening’s events it was a tired Cathy that was shown to a small guest room at the back of Pauline’s house.

“There we are, Cathy. Not very salubrious but for a maid more than adequate, I think. Now get some sleep and we can discuss your duties in the morning.”

Pauline wiped some dust from the door panel.

“Perhaps we can start here? Good night.”

Pauline having closed the door to Cathy’s room wandered the short distance down the landing to the sound proofed play room and entered.

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 11.

by Jackie J

The unanswered ringing of Pauline’s bell to summon her maid brought a smirking Pauline into the kitchen. Jacqueline sat slumped on her stool, still staring at the crumpled piece of paper thrust into her hand by Camille. Cathy was busy at the sink and smiled at Pauline.

“Did your meal go well, Pauline? Did your guests like the food I prepared?”

Pauline smiled back at her neighbour Catherine Lucas, who, dressed in her frumpy maid’s uniform, was seeking recognition and praise for her efforts in the kitchen, and rested her hand on Jacqueline’s shoulder.

“The meal was delightful and served so well by your assistant, Jackie.”

Jacqueline turned and looked up at Pauline, her eyes without their usual sparkle. No words were necessary. Both knew the situation and Jacqueline had no option but to accept it.

Pauline took Jacqueline’s hand and raised her from the stool, turning to Cathy.

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 10.

by Jackie J

Jacqueline Frobisher was not a maid, she never was. Camille, at the request of Pauline, had carried out some checks on Jacqueline and discovered that she was head of legal services at Dawson & Laing, the same company that Michael, Catherine Lucas’s husband, was a director. To allow time to complete her scheme with Catherine, she had taken a six-month sabbatical from Dawson and Laing purportedly to teach orphans in South America.

Checks on her finances revealed that for many years Jacqueline had been living beyond her means but had in recent weeks settled her debts and received significant funds into her accounts. Working for the Lucases Jacqueline had managed to successfully bluff her way through her domestic duties and, with Michael always there to cover for her, Catherine had never suspected anything was amiss. Tonight things would be different. Not only was she dressed like a wet dream for either sex, she would be expected to diligently perform the duties of a housemaid under the watchful gaze of Pauline and who knows who else!

With the doorbell chiming Jacqueline wiggled her way to the door and opened it for the first two guests.

Story: New Employee. Chapters 28-29.

 by BigBird74

28.

Everything felt different. Being ‘found out’ and confronted by the manageress was akin to crossing the Rubicon in my mind. She knew who I was, the rich heiress, destined for fame and fortune – albeit shared with my sister. Despite that she had not flinched one inch, not shown me any real deference. I shivered. Other than my family, this was the first person to so totally ignore my privileged status and family name, Webb, instead opting to treat me like Marta Fernandez. It seemed that she was opening the door on my sleazy game and entering the room. Would she take control of it, change the rules? She had not yet hinted at revealing my secret, though that threat was very real and dangerous. But. Yet. Her smile had given me confidence that this may all yet work out so well.

That smile. It had set forth the usual wave of butterflies in my stomach, only this time they were morphing into something even stronger and more pleasurable, their pulsing wings sending shocks of raw pleasure to my upper thighs and loins. Three times today I had found it necessary to sneak off to what now seemed my only sanctuary, the toilet cubicle. Mindful of how I had been caught out before, this time I remained silent as I pressed my way to heavenly bliss.

Linda had been her usual mixture of vulnerable and aggressive. Vulnerable to compliments, even those little more than bare-faced lies masquerading as a compliment. And aggressive, to the one maid in this hotel that she felt some undeserved sense of superiority towards. I dwelt upon that sense of entitlement for a moment and saw parallels with the way I expected my name and money to purchase a certain prestige and degree of respect. I remembered the encounters I had had with people of different ethnic backgrounds before, usually maids, cooks or staff. Naturally, each had treated me well and it was what I expected. But was this because of their position relative to mine, or did race have any part to play?

Masters/Servants Photo Shoot

A few months back I posted a collection of photos of South Asian ladies and their maids. Now lets move across the globe to Russia. I came across this interesting photo shoot done by a young Moscow-based artist Lilia Li-Mi-Yan. Like her colleague in Bangladesh, as part of a project she's photographed together masters and their servants. Needless to say, a lot of these photos strike a cord even though most are not as visibly awkward as the South Asian ones. As very aptly noted on the photographer's page:

What is the spectator’s position — does he / she want to identify himself / herself with a master, or he / she perceives a servant as the protagonist, or, perhaps, he / she sees the dominance of commodities and collecting over human relationships? The ambivalence of the photographic manner chosen by the author leaves these questions unsolved.

Story: Mrs. Catherine Lucas. Chapter 9.

by Jackie J

With Pauline’s invite to dinner on her mind, Jacqueline was quite distracted at the charity event she was attending that afternoon.  Jacqueline had already told the organisers that she would not be able to stay for the auction and it was already approaching five and she had been told to have Cathy at Pauline’s for six.

Having left a promissory note for two thousand dollars Jacqueline made her way to the parking lot and nervously awaited the valet to bring her car, repeatedly looking at the Rolex of Catherine’s she now wore.

Speeding her way back home Jacqueline raced up the driveway screeching to a halt and hurrying inside.

If Jacqueline had an anxious afternoon Catherine was a nervous wreck. She would have to venture outside, walk the hundred yards or so from her driveway to the entrance to her neighbour’s home. Not strutting in her heels and designer dress with her head held high and blonde locks flowing in the breeze. No she would be scurrying in heavy low heels, swathed in her bulky shapeless maid’s dress, an apron tied around her waist, her head low, a maid’s cap upon her low-rent brown bob wig.