Story: Window Shopping. Chapter 4.

By Jackie J

If keeping me locked in my room was to reinforce the helplessness, I was feeling it was working. Three days four I wasn’t sure my mind was in turmoil. A week ago this Princess Makabuku would have more likely to have been a client not my owner. Owner, this was ridiculous people can’t be owned, they just can’t, but I was?

The room I was in was obviously below ground level and through the barred window I could see the only light coming in was down a shaft through a steel grid some ten feet above. If I had to design a cell this would be it and I was in it. I found the closet and drawers contained more clothing, the same that I was now dressed in. Plain food was brought to me twice a day by a pretty blonde haired girl, collared like I was and dressed like I was. She spoke no English and from her accent I guessed Eastern European probably having come to England to chase her dreams only to end up here a slave to an African Princess.

What haunted me about the girl, when she shuffled into my room, being her hunched shoulders, her lowered head and the deadness in her eyes? She was obviously young, perhaps in her mid twenties, but there was no sparkle in her eyes was this the fate that awaited me?

Story: Window Shopping. Chapters 1-3.

by Jackie J

Chapter 1

Things were going well I had settled into my new apartment, following my promotion and I had eventually got over the breakdown of my relationship with Jenny. Jenny wasn’t happy but it just wasn’t working out, I miss her of course I do but it was for the best.

We had been together on and off since college days and following our breakup Jenny went back to her parents’ place in the country. We had spent many happy days at her parent’s estate but that was over two years ago now and I had, as they say, moved on, hadn’t I? Of course not, a day did not pass that I did not think of her and I still wonder if it was the same for Jenny. Jenny had become increasingly domineering, obsessive perhaps, sure I was the passive one and I didn’t mind that, Jenny was so tender with me between the sheets but when it came to all or nothing I could not commit, I just couldn’t.

But for the burst water main at the junction with cross street I would not be walking down peters lane but it was now the quickest way to the tube. Strange, but only a hundred yards or so from my apartment, I had never walked down this street before. Various independent stores on either side with apartments above, quite a retail oasis hidden behind the glass and chrome fronted major outlets of cross street.

My eyes were drawn to one particular double fronted store and dodging the traffic, which was also using peters lane for a diversion, I crossed the road to take a closer look. Smiling at the display my mind drifted back to happy times at Jenny’s parent’s estate. My smile turned to a giggle looking at the mannequins remembering Jenny’s “Games”.

Story: Polish Au Pair Takes Control.

This story is written by Kristina Katyn, who co-wrote Kristina’s Secret Cleaning Job with Peter Martin.  I remember reading this story a few years ago and enjoying it, and then suddenly found myself in contact with Kristina herself, and she has assented to my including it here.  It describes how a busy housewife and a lady of the house found herself losing control of her own household.  Kristina loves corresponding on the subject of ladies becoming maids (or an au pair in this case) and many other subjects too.  Her email address is katyn99@hotmail.com.

by Kristina Katyn  (Copyright October 2005.)

(F/F, lesbian, humiliation, domestic, spanking, BDSM, non-consensual?)

Humbly, I knelt down on the kitchen floor and scrubbed at the stains with the stiff-bristled wooden brush.  My knees hurt already, but what I was not prepared for was the intimate tingle inside my most private part as I saw out of the corner of my eye that Aniela, our Polish au pair, was sitting (sitting!), watching me scrub.  Her skirt did not reach past her knees, and between her legs was visible the glistening pink triangle of her panties, not quite obscured by her slim thighs.  The shiny pink triangle seemed to be sending a message, "Surely you can see that if you are down low enough to see my panties, you are submitting to my will."

Perhaps I had been working her too hard again.  If she felt overworked and tired, it was probably reasonable for her to tell me so and take a break.  Brown-haired, pale skinned, attractive in an Eastern European way, Aniela was an efficient au pair if slightly too assertive for an ideal employee.  

I did not like the way she had practically `instructed' me to finish the cleaning because she was too tired, and she had now done this several days this week!  She was too darned cheeky.  But maybe I was too ready to give in.  I always avoided conflict, I always had.  And for some reason I wanted to please her.

"You still need to lose some weight," Aniela observed, staring at my skirt-covered bottom which was sticking in the air as I cleaned.

 "What a nerve," I thought.  But she was right.  And I preferred a fellow girl to say it than my

husband.  I would have to diet more over the next two weeks.  David was due back then and I wanted to be pretty for him.

Story: Kristina's Secret Cleaning Job.

It’s always a pleasure to discover new authors writing in the lady-to-maid genre. This one first appeared on Lush Stories and was recommended to me by a reader. Republishing it with the authors’ permission.

by Peter Martin and Kristina Katyn

Note: I wrote this story together with my friend Kristina Katyn, who had written to tell me how much she enjoyed my writing. She has written other stories too. This story is based partly at least on some of her experiences in real life. Her email address is: katyn99@hotmail.com  We hope you enjoy the story.

Kristina felt her normal sense of foreboding as she walked up the pathway to Heather’s house. It was two o’clock on Saturday afternoon and she knew that although her cleaning and ironing duties should last three hours she was unlikely to leave much before eight o’clock. She wondered whether her bottom would be untouched or stinging when she left Heather's house that evening. That usually depended upon how satisfied Heather was with the quality of her work. Heather did not like imperfections, neither in cleaning duties nor in other things. Kristina had learned on previous occasions that Heather was exceptionally particular.

It was a cool afternoon but, as always, Kristina had to wear only summery clothes and today wore a green vest top that was tight and showed off her perhaps slightly too generous curves, as well as a short A-line white skirt that showed off her bare also slightly overweight thighs. However, it was Heather who told her what to wear and she was the boss and needed to be obeyed. In fact, Kristina happily accepted Heather’s strictures and did not wear a jacket or any other sort of top because that was what Heather preferred, and so she felt chilly as she knocked on the door.

Story: It Was All For Charity, Wasn't It? Epilogue.

by Jackie J

Weeks turned into months and whilst there may have been some lingering hope, in the early weeks, there was to be no return to her previous life for Countess Polanski. Her head remained shaven, the belt only removed at essential times of the month and any thoughts of a change from her chosen path had long evaporated leaving little, if any, trace of the smart sophisticated woman she once was.

During the first weeks and months Miss Jennings fed the Countess's fetish, binding her, locking her in her squalid room, having her new young Mistress mocking her and of course the Countess was punished for the merest indiscretion or failure to comply to Miss Jennings's strict regime.

Countess Polanski had known how effective her housekeeper was at subjugation and the breaking of will’s, she couldn’t risk that, could she, but she had. Her worst fears had been realised unannounced, unnoticed and seamlessly. Her mental and physical capitulation and degradation leaving Countess Polanski no different to the other young women who, she had watched with envy, surrender their minds and bodies to her manipulative housekeeper.

Merle Oberon. Art Imitating Life Imitating Art.

Margo Taft and her "maid"

If there ever was a place with over-abundance of skeletons in the closet it’s Hollywood. However, this real story is quite something even by its standards. 

One of the characters in The Last Tycoon, a recent Amazon TV series based on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s unfinished last novel about movie studio business, is actress Margo Taft, a fiercely independent star who has a secret that could ruin her career – she’s half-black and is only passing for white, while her real mother is by her side, masquerading as her black maid Lucille. 

Of course, there is nothing new about the whole “passing for white” phenomenon back in the day with numerous actors and actresses (as well as people from other walks of life) hiding their real origin (if their looks allowed) to get a better chance in life. What I didn’t know was that the story about a non-white mother acting as maid to her own “white” daughter is loosely based on an actual Hollywood story, that of Merle Oberon.

Largely forgotten today, Oberon was a big star in the 1930s and 1940s, renowned for her striking beauty.  Her most famous role is probably that of Cathy in the 1939 classic adaptation of Wuthering Heights alongside Laurence Olivier.  Looking at her pictures it boggles me why no one really suspected that she was mixed race, especially at the time when people allegedly paid so much attention to these things, but, not unlike Liberace, she managed to take her big secret – she was born in Bombay in 1911 to a British father and an under-age half-Sri Lankan mother (with some Maori blood to boot) – to her grave. 

Throughout her career she concealed her ethnic origin and maintained that she was born in Tasmania (apparently considered a lot more acceptable that Bombay, not to mention the birthplace of Hollywood’s great Errol Flynn) and only moved to India after her upper-class father died in a “hunting accident”. 

Story: It Was All For Charity, Wasn't It? Chapter 11.

by Jackie J

Following her discussion with her housekeeper the Countess was all prepared in her rooms for the arrival of Madeline when the door handle turned but it wasn’t maid Maddie who entered her chambers but Miss Jennings.

Countess Polanski looked shocked stood in her maid’s attire.

“What, what are you doing here I thought you were sending Maddie up to my rooms?”

Miss Jennings smiled looking the Countess up and down.

“Well, well you told me about this but I had to see this for myself.”

Miss Jennings walked to the Countess and lifted the hem of the Countesses dress and the cheap nylon underskirt that both hung loose on her calves and chuckled.