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Subject: BOMBADIL 1: "Panties" Part 2
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"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 <yes, she was a natural blonde, just like me>.  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 <a first!> and served it on the patio.  She
also served up a crisp white wine to go with the pasta <yes,
both twins are allowed into the liquor cabinet>.  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 <and probably some sleep>.  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 <they> 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 <I was at a real disadvantage>
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 <and only> 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 <I even had a glass of wine>, 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 <no nothing interesting had happened
the whole time, not even during the night, dammit!>, 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 <believe it or not>, all before lunch.  Hannah cooked us
some beautiful quiches for our meal <she *can* cook!  Wow!> 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 <not entirely faking groggy
half-sleep> 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 <the hair was black,
so I assumed it was Hannah>.  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 <Minutes?  Hours?  Days?  I
didn't know or care> 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 <ten years!> since I'd enjoyed
good sex.  That was the day I realized I'd never had good sex with
my husband <lots of mediocre stuff and disappointing nights, but
nothing I would ever again consider good>.



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 <that's when I found out who the tiger in the family
really was>.  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 <yeah, right>.  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 <semi> professional about the whole business.  It was only when
I'd finished the last bandage that I let my hands <and my lips>
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 <the first day I was in that house>.  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.
<Just picture a Yorkshire terrier facing down a pit bull.  That's
the image that flashed through my mind at the time.>

"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 <except my own private ones> 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 <yes, I was wearing a
negligee and a housecoat, so there!>.  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 <besides me>.  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 <that
was her name> 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 <where I saw
both kids naked for the first time - that Timothy was even more
beautiful nude than dressed> 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 <I was still drooling, looking
through the kitchen window>, 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.


<Fin>
********************************************************************

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