Maidenhead Ch. 09

"You've outdone yourself, Toni."

Miss Sellers was circling Lacy, a lioness examining a gazelle. More than ever, Mark felt distant from his wife.

... isolated... alone...

... it's like a stranger that looks exactly like Tricia has taken over...

"It was nothing. She's pretty enough without my magic."

Lacy closed her eyes at the compliment.

... she thinks I'm pretty...

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

Mark opened his eyes, but he could not make himself look up from the ground.

How can I look at any of them?

How could I ever look at any of them again?

... especially her...

He stared at his wife's feet as she circled him.

"What do you think, Ryan?"

Mark could feel the eyes on him.

... all of their eyes...

... evaluating...

... leering...

... lusting...

"I'd say she's workable."

Workable!?!

"Don't listen to him, Tricia," Mr. Goodwin said, "She's gorgeous. Easily one of the best I've seen."

"Do you hear that, Lacy?" Miss Sellers said. There was a hard pinch under the petticoats and Lacy squealed involuntarily. "One of the best he's seen. With him, that's really saying something."

"I will say this..." Mr. Ryan chuckled, "She's certainly a horny slut. Look at the mess she just made."

Everyone began to laugh and Mark whimpered. He could feel the dripping mess, oozing down between his legs into the puddle on the ground. He had just cum in front of an entire room full of people. His eyes focused on the collected pool in front of his feet. There was even a little drizzle on the top of his right boot.

... I didn't even get the orgasmic release...

Mark wondered how that was even possible. There had been similar situations in the past. Ruined orgasms from holding back the tidal wave unsuccessfully and smothering the sensation. Yet, he could never remember a situation of having cum and still being this aroused afterwards.

... maybe I did hold it back...

... at least part of it...

The liquid dripping between his legs told a different story though.

"... slut..."

The muttered word from his wife from behind him made Mark sick to his stomach again. He felt like a slut. His face burned, his body tingled and every inch of his body felt aroused. It was nothing like the imagined fantasies he always had of being called that word. He felt utterly humiliated and lower than low. He was being treated like an object and his body was betraying him at every turn.

"Clean up your mess, Lacy. Then meet us in the kitchen."

She moved away without even waiting for a response from him. The others followed, still chuckling.

... laughing at me...

... at the horny Bimbo-Slut...

There was only a single hand towel left in the bathroom. She seemed to be going through them quickly today.

With great care and concern due to the corset and heels, she managed to get down onto her knees. The droplets of hazy white liquid seemed to have spread all over the place.

... cum... I'm cleaning up cum...

.... mmphf...

The Bimbo-Slut in his head was reveling in this humiliation.

Mark swallowed, which only reminded him of the taste in his mouth. The taste Miss Toni had placed there.

... cum...

... mmphf...

He retreated into his head, letting Lacy deal with the Bimbo-Slut and finish the task. After she finished wiping the floor, she swallowed hard and cleaned between her legs as well. The towel only served to further stimulate her extremely aroused member.

She wrapped the towel around it, giving it a stroke...

... then two...

... oh, God...

She was still so horny.

Two quick steps and she was in the bathroom, pulling the door shut. Her face in the mirror caused her to gasp.

... that can't be me...

The beautiful visage opened her mouth, practically drooling with need. Her pupils were black with dilation as the towel dropped to the floor between her feet. Smooth, feminine hands slid beneath the petticoats and began to caress and stroke the hidden treasure beneath. It throbbed in her manicured fingers like a tiny beast seeking freedom.

She whimpered.

... if I could just cum for real...

... cum... cum... cum...

... no...

Another whimper.

... I need release so bad...

... cum... cum... cum...

... no...

Whimper!

She was so HORNY!

Lacy felt her mind being torn by the two sides of her brain. On one end, the Bimbo-Slut screamed and moaned with every move of her soft fingers. On the other side was Mark, huddled in a fetal-like ball of horror.

Her hands moved faster. The Bimbo-Slut was winning. Arousal began to squirt again, lubricating the movement and making her fingers a gooey mess.

Her eyes locked on the mirror and a guttural moan escaped her as she saw the beautiful creature masturbating in front of her. It wasn't Lacy in the mirror any more. It was the nymphomaniac everyone kept saying she was. It was the desperately horny Bimbo-Slut who would do anything if she could just have that sweet release.

Yet, the look in her eyes was frustrated.

... I can't quite get there...

... I can't seem to push past that point...

... oh, God... please... I need it so bad...

.... no... please...

She pumped faster and still it danced further and further away.

... oh, God, I'm horny... so fucking horny... fuck me...

There was no orgasm.

Not yet, at least. The last unsatisfying one was too recent and despite the need, desperation and frantic stroking, it would not happen.

The Bimbo-Slut stomped her foot, her wet fingers clenching into fists by her side. She carefully knelt to pick up the towel she had dropped. It took forever to get back to her high-heeled feet.

She wiped her hands and then again dried under her skirts, whimpering as the towel rubbed her still erect member.

She folded the damp towel and laid it on the toilet seat. In the safety of the closed room, a soft sob left her lips. The Bimbo-Slut had stormed away in frustration, leaving Mark with the cleanup.

He did not want to go back out there. He would rather do anything in the world.

As much as the Lacy part of her enjoyed the...

... attention (for lack of a better word)...

... this was too much for Mark.

... the sexual need... the humiliation... the fear...

It was too much. He fled to the back of her mind, leaving Lacy alone. She whimpered. All Lacy wanted was to cum and then get out of this painfully crushing uniform. She wanted to take a break and let Mark take back over.

Mark was nowhere to be found. He was hiding. Mark wasn't going to come back out until this whole situation was over and resolved.

... maybe not even then...

That tiny, scared voice of Mark in the back of her head was barely even a thought. There was no sign of the Bimbo-Slut either. It was just Lacy now, alone with a houseful of strangers.

She took one last look at the slutty maid in the mirror. The girl that looked back appeared as scared and helpless as Lacy felt. There was no help coming from anywhere. All she could do was follow any instructions and hope for the best.

She opened the door, and clicked her way to the kitchen.

Eight Months Ago - Saturday, 7:38 PM

"Trish?"

There was no answer.

She just sat there in the dimly lit study, staring off into space.

If there was one thing Tricia was exceedingly good at, it was the cold shoulder.

"Look... I'm sorry..."

No answer.

Mark sighed.

He felt like such a shit for letting her down.

She sipped her wine, staring over at the lamp away from him.

Remorse was being replaced by anger in Mark.

She was not going to let this go. Tonight was not going to be a good night for either of them. Instead, it would be a night of tension and unease; guilt and anger.

He wished more than anything that he could go back and just start the whole day over.

"Tricia... please. Let's not do this tonight. I'll make dinner, ok?"

No answer.

He ground his teeth and sighed again as he headed for the door.

There was no apologizing when she was like this. All he could do was wait it out.

With one last look into the darkened room, he went to the kitchen to fix dinner.

Today - Sunday, 7:30 PM

The blinding light as she pushed through the kitchen door, caused her to step back in surprise. The swinging door completed its arc and smacked into her bare backside, causing her to step forward again in a rustle of petticoats. She felt like a clock pendulum in heels.

As her eyes adjusted, her brain was starting to figure out the source of the disturbance. With the realization came terror, but also...

... relief?

The kitchen was filled with photo equipment.

Three giant light stands held blazing wattage all focused into umbrellas.

... photographers?

Mark was back. He kept his distance, deep in the recesses of her brain, but at least he had returned from whatever hole he had crawled into.

... photographers...

Lacy's heart beat fast.

She was going to be a model.

... they are going to take my picture?

Oh, God. They're going to take my picture...

That was Mark again. He took a little more control. Realization was flooding into his brain.

... this whole nightmare...

... all these strangers in our house...

They were here because Tricia had set it up.

... and when they go...

He felt the huge sigh of relief in his corseted chest.

... when they go, this horror will be over...

A smile began to flood onto his lips. White teeth shone through the strawberry painted lips.

... they are going to take pictures of me...

... I am going to be a model...

Despite everything, his arousal knew no bounds. The Bimbo-Slut had returned as well and was squealing at the thought of all eyes being on her.

Mark realized they WERE all staring at him.

"Well?" Mr. Ryan's voice barked into the silence. "Are you going to stand there like a stupid cow or are you going to clean up the mess you made?"

... the mess?

Mark's huge, feminine eyes flew wide with panic. He had already cleaned up his mess. The floor in the hallway was spotless.

"I already did." Mark stammered in his most feminine voice. He licked his lips and tasted the salty tang of the cum that he had just scrubbed. His heart was beating like a drum at the harsh words from the man.

... stupid cow? How dare he?

"Come here!"

His voice was ice and Mark felt his already weak legs begin to shake. The chuckle from Miss Sellers did not help the complete and total terror that enveloped his whole body.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Three slow motion steps in the high-heeled boots and he found himself beside the much taller man.

The world suddenly sped back up.

The rough hand grabbed the back of his neck and forced him to rapidly stumble forward as the man half dragged him over to the counter.

Clickclickclickclickclick.

His heels seemed to echo on the hard floor.

"Look at this mess. Does this look clean to you?"

The hand forced his face down into the sink. The sink that was filled with the soaking dishes from lunch.

Mark let out a short gasp as he found his face near the soap-filled, dirty water.

... my makeup...

Inside his head, Lacy was screaming in panic. She leaped forward, seizing control from Mark, lest he cause her beautiful makeup to be destroyed. Her long eyelashes fluttered madly trying to hold back tears of fear and frustration.

"No, sir. I'm sorry, sir. I'll wash them now, sir."

She felt like a naughty dog having her face shoved in a mess of her own making.

"Damn right you will."

The hand on Lacy's neck squeezed to the point of pain and Lacy whimpered, nibbling her slick, pink lips.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll do it right now, sir."

The hand released and Lacy flew up into a standing position without the pressure behind her neck.

"Hurry it up, bitch. We're on the clock here."

Lacy did not bother to reply. She immediately turned the water on and picked up the dirty skillet on top.

"Lacy!"

The pot dropped from her hand at the sharpness of that tone. She felt like crying. Everything she did was wrong.

"Toni just spent all that time on you. Apron and gloves, girl!"

"Yes, Miss Sellers," she said. Even to her own ears, her voice sounded soft and submissive.

She clicked over to the apron hanging by the refrigerator. The loop slid over her head and she tied the bow behind her back.

She felt so stupid.

Her outfit had an apron built into it, but it was not a real apron. The bow she tied sat atop a much bigger pink satin bow that sat atop the ass of her maid uniform. The apron poofed out over the fluffy petticoats like a tent. It was just one more layer of frills atop an embarrassingly exposed bottom.

The gloves were under the sink. With a few mincing steps she clicked back over and opened the cabinet, squatting down carefully to find the gloves.

"Lacy!"

She wanted to scream. She wanted to stamp her feet and punch something. Instead, tears began to fill her eyes.

... I can't do anything right...

She blinked the tears away desperately. If her makeup began to run she would be in huge trouble.

"Yes, Miss Sellers?"

"Bend at the waist, dear. You don't want to tear your stockings."

Lacy's vision went dark.

... bending at the waist means...

Her vision came back, the room swimming around her. The vertigo almost made her fall on her ass.

Carefully, she stood. Her breathing was short and desperate as if she were hyperventilating.

She took the deepest breath she could. Bending at the waist in a corset meant cutting off her air supply. Yet, even the prospect of that was not her biggest concern.

Slowly, she bent forward and then rapidly dug through the cabinet looking for the gloves. The tiny supply of air in her lungs burned, but not nearly as much as her face. Standing in this position caused the petticoats to point nearly straight up. Her entire backside was on display to the whole room. Cool air caused her flesh to goose pimple and between her legs, her exposed organ suddenly began to pulse. The overly bright lights seemed to be pointing directly at her ass and she could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on her.

... on me...

The Bimbo-Slut giggled with delight in her head.

Lacy shifted her feet, her legs spreading a little more open to keep her balance. Arousal was flooding through her. Her cock stiffened, pointing towards her face as she dug through the cleaning supplies. Her feet shifted again, shimmying her ass for the room. Lacy was like a cat in heat presenting herself to the room.

... Stop doing that!

... Make me!

... Slut!

... Mmhmmmmmm!

Lacy desperately dug for the gloves as the two personalities in her head tormented each other.

The gloves were under the magic eraser package and he rapidly stood back up to stop the Bimbo-Slut's ass-wiggling production. A quick glance proved that the horrible feeling of being watched was accurate. All eyes had been on her ass.

"Stop teasing the men, Lacy. We're on the clock."

... teasing the men??? She was the one who told her to bend at the waist...

He dared not say anything.

... how can I?

... I was teasing them...

... oh, God...

With care not to damage his nails, he slid the gloves on and proceeded to dive into the dishes.

"Come on, Charlie," Toni said, her voice a seductive chuckle, "Stop staring at her and let's go."

"What?" Mr. Goodwin laughed, the two of them moving into the hallway, "She's got nice legs!"

Between those nice legs, Lacy throbbed, arousal dripping down her thigh.

"As soon as she's done cleaning we can start," Mr. Ryan said. Lacy heard and felt the lights being adjusted behind her.

"Sorry for the delay. I think you and Charles have her a little flustered."

Mark laughed ruefully in his head.

... A little flustered?

"The poor thing gets ten feet from a hard cock and that's all she can think about."

His eyes flew wide, even as his hands continued to scrub the pan.

... did Tricia really just say that?

... Miss Sellers... don't call her Tricia...

The man laughed at the comment.

... he's laughing?!?

... he thinks it's true.

... Tricia has this man thinking that I'm some cock-hungry slut!

... Miss Sellers, you dumb asshole...

... oh, god! Do you think his cock is hard?

The Bimbo-Slut was mewling in his mind. A bitch in heat.

As Lacy scrubbed the pan, her ass shook. The Bimbo-Slut threw a little more hip into it.

... is he watching?

She spread her feet a little more apart.

... stop it!

Mark tried to seize back control, but the Slut was in the driver's seat. She arched her back as she scrubbed, reveling in the feel of the petticoats flouncing around her thighs.

Every move made her relish the submission and the exhibition.

... Stop!

... is he looking?

... God, I hope not.

... maybe if I bend over again...

... No!

... I could drop the sponge...

... NO!

... is he looking?

... Shut up!!! Both of you!

Lacy growled in her head. The two battling personalities did not understand. She was going to be punished if she messed up. They would both disappear and it would by Lacy that took the punishment. She shoved them back into different dark corners of her mind.

She hoped Mr. Ryan had not noticed the Bimbo-Slut's silly display.

She dared a look over her shoulder. He was facing away from her, adjusting the light by the table. Her eyes drifted over to Miss Sellers.

Their eyes met.

Her lips were smirking, her eyes sparkling with power.

Mr. Ryan had not noticed...

... but Miss Sellers did...

Lacy immediately dropped her eyes and went back to the dishes. Under her skirts, she throbbed again, a long, wet drip of cum oozing to the floor between her legs.

Eight Months Ago - Saturday, 8:34 PM

"Dinner's ready."

Anger and frustration had boiled out of him while cooking the meal. It was replaced with a singular need for reconciliation; a desperate need to kiss and make up. He would make this better...

... I have to...

"I'll take mine in here."

Mark felt his lower lip spring out in frustration and worry. She was not even going to eat with him.

He fetched her plate and a dinner tray to set it on. The glass of white wine sloshed as he carried it and he cursed under his breath at how difficult it was to carry wine glasses on a tray.

"Here you go." he said, setting the tray down across her lap. "Can I get you anything else?"

"That's all."

His eyes widened.

... I was just dismissed!

... I was just dismissed in my own house...

... like a servant...

... like...

... a maid...

"Look, Trish... I'm really sorry. I just..."

"I said... that will be all."

Her voice was granite, her expression even harder.

Mark did not know what to do.

With a nod of his head, he made his way to the door. One look back at his wife, sitting alone in the darkened room eating dinner, made him unbearably sad.

He had disappointed her, more so than he had ever in the past. The one person in his life that he cared for more than anything and he had ruined it.

He was halfway down the hallway when he heard her.

"Mark!"

His immediate reaction was worry.

... is the food cold?

... did I do something wrong?

... did I screw up something else?

He poked his head through the door.

"Please tell Lacy to wait for me upstairs for her punishment."

Mark's brain took too long to process that statement. He knew he was grinning foolishly at her.

He could not get the grin off his face.

... she's decided to forgive me...

... thank God above, she's forgiving me and we're going to try the maid game one more time...

"Sure." he said, still grinning from cheek to cheek.

He left her to her meal.

With a spring in his step, he sped down the hall and up the stairs. His own meal lay forgotten in the dining room.

... she wants to see Lacy...

... and Lacy had a lot to do to get ready for her punishment.

Today - Sunday, 7:50 PM

"Good enough," Mr Ryan said.

Lacy's mind had wandered away during her chore. The Bimbo-Slut had slid comfortably back into the forefront.

There were thoughts of hands on her bare thighs. There were images of Tricia's hands feeling her up as she worked.

... Mr. Ryan's hands on my legs...

... on my ass...

... between my legs...

... spreading my cheeks...

... what is wrong with me!?! I'm acting like an honest-to-god slut!

"Get a clean sponge, Lacy," Mr. Ryan ordered.

Time stood still. The sponges were under the sink.

Mark clambered into the farthest most recesses of his own mind. There was no room for him in Lacy's sex-filled brain.

She took a deep breath and bent at the waist.

"Good girl."

Miss Sellers voice had no malice in it. It was a genuine compliment.

Lacy beamed. She shimmied her backside a little as she looked, knowing that Mr. Ryan was definitely watching her now. Even after she found the sponge she lingered a moment, letting her exhibitionist fantasy play out. Another throb and she watched the liquid drizzle past her face, dripping slowly to the ground.

"Hurry up, slut," Mr. Ryan snapped. Lacy instantly jerked upwards with the sponge, almost hitting her head on the underside of the sink.

... he didn't like it...

Her lower lip was out in a pout.

... good!

It was a voice that was so soft in the back of her head, it almost didn't exist. Mark was having none of this exhibitionist fantasy.

"Ok. We're going to start with a few establishing shots to get the light levels and set the scene. We can do a few of you cleaning the counters. Start scrubbing and when I say freeze you hold completely still. Understand?"

Lacy nodded.

"I said, do you understand?"

His voice was as hard as granite.

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. Now, go on."

Self-consciously she began to wipe the counter in small circles. On the fifth one the word filled the room.

"FREEZE!"

Lacy froze.

She was twisted at the waist a little, her face nearly profile to Mr. Ryan. She heard the first click of the camera.

"Tilt your face more towards me..."

Click.

"Open your eyes a little wider..."

Click.

"Move the sponge a little further away."

Click.

"A little further..."

Lacy felt herself leaning a little, her ass lifted up by the heels. Her stocking tops were on display, but she was reasonably certain that was all.

Click.

"Good girl. Now turn towards me and take off the gloves..."

Click. Click. Click.

As she started pulling off the second glove, the word filled the room again.

"FREEZE!"

She froze.

Click. Click. Click.

"Chin up."

Click. Click.

"Look over at Tricia with your eyes. Mouth a little more open."

Lacy looked. Tricia was leaning forward, her face a confusing jumble of expressions. The smile disturbed Lacy. It was a powerful smile.

Click. Click.

"Ok, lose the other one."

She yanked the other glove off, her eyes still on Tricia.

... is she aroused by this?

Tricia's pupils were almost completely black.

... shark's eyes...

The glove slid off, slick with the water and toppled to the floor.

Without thinking, Lacy bent to try and catch it.

"FREEZE!"

Her eyes went wide.

No! Not like this...

She was bent at the waist, her petticoats up in a flurry. She was at an angle to the camera.

... is my arousal showing?

... is the picture going to show that I'm hard as a rock?

Throb.

"Look at me."

She looked at the camera.

Click.

Mr. Ryan was smiling too. Behind the camera, behind all the lights, Lacy was very sure of that.

"More of a pout, Lacy."

She pursed her lips.

Click.

... so arousing...

... so scary...

It was like a roller coaster that might not have a completely finished track. Her eyes drifted back over to Miss Sellers.

... she wants pictures of me as Lacy...

... she made me promise that she could take pictures...

... pictures are what she requires before she releases me from this lacy hell.

... so this is it. She's getting her pictures. This whole thing...

... this whole humiliating day...

... has built to this...

... it's almost over...

A huge wave of relief filled Lacy. She could even feel Mark slinking back forward a little. The end was in sight.

"Now, grab the sponge and kneel down. I want you to clean where the glove dropped."

Without a word, she did as she was told. There was no point in arguing. The whole thing was just about done.

... how many pictures can he take?

... five?

... ten?

This overly-stimulating nightmare was coming to a conclusion.

She scrubbed the floor until she was commanded to freeze again. The tile was cold on her stocking-clad legs. She heard the clicking of the camera and once again caught Tricia's eye. The smile was back to a smirk. It worried Lacy. This was almost done. Why did she look so eager?

Another click of the camera and with it the 'thwap' of the kitchen door swinging open. No doubt Miss Toni and Mr. Goodwin coming back in to watch the photo shoot.

... coming back in to ogle the sexy french maid...

Lacy giggled even as the next picture was taken.

... I'm a model...

She was a model that both the men and the women in the room found irresistibly sexy.

She looked over to the door and the giggle turned into a gasp of horror.

Miss Toni and Mr. Goodwin had indeed returned...

... but something is horribly, horribly wrong...

Mr. Goodwin was wearing nothing but a pair of gray, form fitting boxer-briefs.

... No!

Mark flew back into the driver's seat, shuffling the scared and confused Lacy out of the way.

... No!

His eyes darted frantically back to his wife. Her smile never changed.

... No!

The camera clicked and he knew his face was that of a scared child. He could not help but picture Lacy's face in the mirror. She knew she currently had that sexy, beautiful face with a frightened pinup girl look. Between his legs, the arousal vanished.

... this is too much. They can't make me do this...

"Ah, good. Charles... please stand beside her."

Lacy watched in horror as the well built, masculine legs moved around the counter and stood to her right. His hand rested on the back of her head and she shuddered.

"Looking good down there, Lacy. Very sexy."

Confused, she looked up at him with wide eyes.

The camera clicked.