A Houseboy for Mali Ch. 01

Story Info
A good deed gets an unexpected reward.
4.4k words
4.16
105.4k
23

Part 1 of the 4 part series

Updated 09/24/2022
Created 07/17/2011
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Last month I moved to a new flat in Rhodes, a riverside suburb newly developed to take advantage of the current rental price gouging in Sydney. This is one of the old pre-boom buildings in a group of older ones, no garage and only one washing line that is in shade all day. The adjoining block of apartments (we share a driveway) has plenty of parking and six clothes lines, so first morning I did my washing in the big outdoor laundry and hung my washing on the line next door. Feeling a little guilty...

"A perfect crime" I thought as I came back after work to take in the washing. Someone had hung their stuff on the last two rows of one I was using so I almost put a black lace bra and panties in my bag by mistake. I hung them up again and noticed that some of the other person's clothes had fallen on the ground. I picked them up and hung them up in the empty space my clothes had left. Some very sexy and very small sized women's underwear. I have always gotten a rush out of seeing women's underwear.

In the dim afternoon light I saw a very short woman with dark hair and skin smoking just outside the door to the other apartment block. She was staring at me and I looked away. I looked back and she was still just watching me, smoking and totally unbothered by me noticing her gaze. I gave a little wave, which she ignored and embarrassed I picked up my washing and went inside.

Two days later and I am washing again – this is going somewhere I swear – and I get to the line to find a bunch of random women's clothes on the ground in the early morning wet grass. At this point I am a little worried that using next doors line is pissing off the neighbours, so I pick up the clothes and hang them before hanging my own stuff. I can smell cheap cigarette smoke and I look around... I hear a coffee mug clang on a metal table and look up to see someone watching me from their balcony just above the line.

I see the top of a dark haired head and then she steps out of sight. I guessed it was the smoking short woman from a few days ago. I pick up my empty wash bag and get ready for work.

In the afternoon I went to take in my washing and there is a silk cravat scarf with a small thank you card pinned to it. The card is blank but I guess it's for me and I put it with the rest of the washing and go in for the evening.

End of the first work week in the new place, Friday morning and I am out extra early to do the wash before work and I see the cravat still in the bag, it's cold now so I tie it on (no idea how it should go) and set off for the laundry at the back of the building.

After washing my stuff I get to the line and see a pink net wash bag / basket. It has the same thank you note on it as before. The line I have been using is filled with woman's clothes. I take a chance and fold and put the woman's dry clothes into the net bag and then put my stuff out to dry. I look up through my wet washing sneakily to see the dark haired smoking woman peering down at me through big round dark glasses drinking from a big mug.

Once again after work I take in the washing but some how there is less than I put out. When I get back inside I realize that my socks and underwear are missing. I don't think much about it until Monday morning.

Going into the laundry Monday morning I see the same pink net bag with woman's clothes in it sitting on top of the washer. There is another thank you card and the clothes are inside a protective bag so I put them in with my stuff and wash them all together.

Hanging out the wash I notice that something pink had run through the wash and my whites are now pinkish. I hang my stuff and the mystery woman's frilly things too and set off to work.

When I get home I forget that I have washing out and run out after dark to bring it in. Again there is the Pink bag waiting for the dry washing and I put the half dozen singlets, g-strings, bras, and panties in before grabbing my stuff.

The next day I grab some underwear out of the clean washing and it isn't mine. I look through and all my socks and underwear are gone but all my shirts and slacks are there. I take anther look and the socks are all white knee socks and the underpants are all pink stretch cotton boxers. I put them on and they are quite tight but fit OK.

Checking my mailbox that morning I notice a woman standing on the path wearing big dark glasses, skinny jeans, long horse riding boots and a sheepskin overcoat. She is smoking and tapping her phone. I check the mailbox and turn to see her holding up her phone pointed at me. A few seconds go by and I need to get to the train station so I give a little wave and head off. As I walk away I realize it was the woman who watches me from her balcony. It was pretty obvious that she was taking my picture and didn't care that I noticed. I felt a little special on the walk to the station.

The next two washes go the same way, my socks and underwear replaced and a bag of woman's washing waiting for me each time I go to the laundry. What I did not notice before was that my white collared shirts were being replaced as well. By the end of the week I had only pink boxer underpants, long white socks and tight stretch white collared shirts. Also one of my pairs of work slacks was missing.

Honestly, I was enjoying the game. I started wearing the cravat to and from work and washing every weekday. Everyday there was a bag for me to wash and dry. On Friday when I got home from work I found the pink bag waiting for me with a note on a thank you card. The cards had been missing the last few days... this time it had unit number 4 on it. After folding I took the smoking woman's clothes into the other apartment block and rang the 4 button and the door buzzed open. I walked up to the first floor and knocked on the door. I could see the shadow of movement under the door but no answer.

It looked like the peephole was black, like someone on the other side looking through, but no response. I knocked again and called out;

"Hello... (long pause) ...hello, here is your washing..."

I waited for five minutes or so, thinking that my voice sounded effeminate but was too shy to call out again. I left the bag outside the door and went home.

This was a really fun game, women's underwear, secret admirers..., presents... but I didn't know what I was meant to do. Living on my own after a long break up was kind of weird. My routines all involved my ex, now I had to re learn all of them. I was feeling a little self-conscious.

Saturday was a shock. I got up late and went shopping, Rhodes mall was only five minutes walk, and it's over priced but shiny and modern. I got my weeks groceries and walked home to find my flat open. The door had been forced open with a crowbar, the blue paint chips were embedded in the door frame.

All my papers and DVDs were gone, as were my shoes, my suits... all my clothes except the white socks, pink underwear and stretch white shirts. I called the landlord and he apologized... I don't know why. The locksmith came and left saying I needed a carpenter. The building handyman came after I called the landlord again and he just screwed a block of wood behind the striker plate and told me to use both locks next time.

It was late afternoon before he was done and no chance to go to the shops for clothes. I didn't feel like it anyway. I rented a movie and ate pizza, annoyed and worried about the dodgy lock repairs watching crappy weekend TV.

Sunday morning and I had slept in my track pants and shirt. I took a shower and realized I had no clean pants. I put on my pink underwear and white socks and stretch collared shirt and cravat, took my sweaty clothes out to wash. As usual I found the pink net bag waiting for me to wash. The familiarity cheered me up after being robbed and the chill of the morning air on my bare legs.

I hung out my tracksuit and underwear and then the contents of the wash bag. They weren't women's clothes. Three pairs of men's grey breeches, one fitted zipper jacket and two pairs of white cotton gloves.

I went in and ate the cold pizza and watch the rest of the Stargate DVDs I rented. I just couldn't be a bothered clothes shopping even if I had pants to wear over my pink boxers...

Monday morning about 6am I got a knock on the door. It was loud and short and I called out:

"Just a minute"

I opened the door to find my track pants and other things from the line folded and left on my doorstep. I had forgotten to bring them in the day before. I tried on the breeches and they were tight. But skinny is in and they looked enough like office clothes for me not to care. Under the clothes there was a thank you card on top of a pair of black and white 1950's style golf shoes. I removed the studs and put them on. They were about half a size too small but it was better than wearing my sneakers in to the office so I put up with it.

That day, in my tight shirt and pants and silk cravat, the office girls gave me some lingering looks and flirty chat. I hadn't told anyone about the break-up, I guess I was still holding out hope, or in denial... I don't know.

I got home to find the locksmith back again fitting a new lock. He gave me the new key and left. I walked back to the video store and returned the movies. The smoking woman was there and looking through the DVDs with her dark glasses on. She stared at me until I turned to look at her and she subtly knocked a DVD off the shelf. She just kept looking so I went over to say:

"Hello"

She pointed to the DVD on the ground and I picked it up. She turned her back to walk to a different section while I was bent over. So I put it back on the shelf and followed her. The tight skinny jeans making her ass perfectly rounded like a peach. She flicked another DVD off the shelf and I picked it up and followed. Two more and I took them too. Then she stopped with her hand on her hip she nodded in the direction of the counter. I briefly looked up at her, kneeling at the feet of this short Asian Goddess and felt a rush.

As I walked to the counter I looked down at the titles: "SissyMaids First Adventure", "The Mistress and the Houseboy" and "The White sex slave trade: a documentary" before I could put them back the girl behind the counter was already looking at me saying:

"Next please"

I sheepishly paid and looked up to see the smoking woman gone. I went home and watched the movies. I had seen my share of internet porn, but nothing like this. Powerful beautiful cruel women, dominating and degrading men in the hottest ways. It was incredible. I watched them all in a row then the rest of the night watched them over and over. I had the most intense fantasy and masturbated to orgasm eight or nine times. I fell asleep in my clothes.

The next day I got up early for the washing as usual by this stage getting a perverse thrill at *servicing* this mystery woman, but this time there were two pairs of black patent leather boots and some rags and clear polish as well. I polished the shoes and did my washing, hung it, put the boots in my flat and went off to work.

After taking the smoking woman's clothes off the line I folded them and took them and the boots up to unit 4. I knocked on the door and again no answer. I called in:

"I have your washing and your boots."

The peep hole darkened so I knew there was someone there. I felt a bit cheeky so I added:

"I have polished your boots Ma'am, I hope they please you."

Still no response but some movement. A thank you note came out from under the door, I opened it expecting it to be blank:

-On your knees.

Was written on the inside. I knelt down and the door unlocked and opened. I stood up to go inside and the door slammed in my face. I stood there for a minute... then I knelt back down again and the door opened again. I walked in on my knees, boots in on hand and washing in the other arms out wide to keep them up.

In the middle of the living room was a mini ironing board and iron on the floor. I unpacked the washing and ironed and folded the few shirts and stretch pants before I heard:

"OK, good boy, out now."

I walked out on my knees with a massive hard on. I half expected her to stop me but the door closed behind me and I went home. I was really turned on. I decided to watch those DVDs again. This time my fantasy was the mysterious smoking woman and all the things I wanted her to order me to do.

I was well on my way to my second orgasm when I got a knock on the door. I opened it slowly and tried to hide my hard on behind he door. Handing on my doorknob was a black satin maid dress with white mini apron, white tights, and a cap. I was so turned on I put it on straight away. I was just putting a pair of those white cotton gloves when I got another knock at the door. I panicked, I took off the cap and tried to stand behind the door and poked my head out as I opened it. It was another thank you card:

"Unit 4 now."

The thrill of going out in the early evening cross-dressed as a naughty French maid was overwhelming. I put on my cap and walked out the door closing it behind me. As the latch clicked I realized I didn't have my keys. I had forgotten to pick them up, understandable as I usually have pants on before leaving. Fortunately I had also forgotten to lock the door. I fretted in the stairwell for a moment about weather I should leave the place unlocked... I decided to take an external door key but leave my flat unlocked. There was a reason, but I can't think what it was now. Maybe just the flood of adrenalin blurring my thinking.

I got to the outer security door of the other building and rang the buzzer for unit 4 and the door unlocked. On the first floor I knocked on the door and again there was no response. I thought about calling out, but 'what do I say?' I though.

I almost called out 'Hello' and had a pang of worry about being caught and beaten up by sexually threatened yobbos in the dark apartment hallway. A few heart pounding seconds passed when I saw the shadow under the door and the peephole go dark. I took a chance and knelt down. The door opened instantly and I crawled inside.

"Eyes down! Bathroom, ...crawl."

I crawled across the living room and into the short hall and into the bathroom. I could hear the smoking woman walking along behind me. I asked:

"How may I address you Ma'am"

She replied:

"Quiet."

I felt a pointed heel up my ass push me inside on to the tiled floor. I stayed on hands and knees before a bucket with a bottle of vinegar, a scrubbing brush and a chamois slid in beside me. I turned to look back and was shocked by a barked order in an odd Asian accent:

"Eyes down! Floor tiles, shower and toilet. 30 minutes."

I felt her legs either side of my waist, her breasts brushing against the back of my head she took the brush, put it in my left hand and the chamois in my right. She tipped a small amount of vinegar and swirled my hand with the brush through it then wiped it off with my right hand.

"Go. Do a good job OK. Hurry 30 minutes. Go"

I sprinkled the vinegar around and swirled the brush through it. Ten minutes or so later and I had scrubbed and wiped the entire floor and getting into a rhythm when I saw in the reflection the smoking woman standing in the doorway. I moved closer to the wall to sneak a look at her. She must have guessed my move and she shut me down with:

"Eyes down! Do your work now."

I felt the domination and was shamed and excited at the same time. My face burned with heat and redness. I could feel my erection growing under my frilly skirt. In my haste I had put tights on without underwear and the feeling of the nylon straining against me hard on was heightening the buzz.

I turned, head bowed down and climbed into the shower to scrub it. Rinsing out the chamois I could tell this shower had been cleaned very recently. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the smoking woman shift position inside the bathroom. She sat on the toilet and I continued swirling and scrubbing around he walls.

Working around the tiled wall of the shower I managed a sideways look at the smoking woman. She was looking at me through her big dark glasses with something silver in her hand. Her phone was black and this thing was a chunky shape. I started to get out of the shower and was frozen by another barked order.

"No! Shower floor now."

I dropped down in the small space and gave it a quick once over. Standing up I snuck another look at the smoking woman sitting on the toilet. The silver box in her hands had a red light on the front. It was a cheap digital video camera.

The smoking woman pointed to the floor between her legs. I hesitated expecting another barked order and getting aroused in expectation. She stopped pointing and I followed her hand as it unbuttoned the top three buttons of her shirt revealing her cleavage and an erect nipple inside her bright red satin bra.

She could see my eyes moving with her hand and brushed open her shirt a little more, circling her fingers over her right nipple. She giggled and then pointed more aggressively. With a:

"Scrub here!"

I scrubbed the floor under her feet, she added:

"Now the outside"

I scrubbed the outside of the toilet, my head bobbing up and down between her legs. The smoking woman leaning forward to push the camera into my face as it bobbed up and down with each swirl.

Rubbing her bootleg along the side of my head the smoking woman stood on the seat of the toilet and said softly:

"Inside now."

I scrubbed the toilet bowl with vinegar and wiped the porcelain to a gleaming shine. A garbage bag was tossed down for me, and a finger from high above indicated to empty the bathroom bin. Then:

"Balcony now."

I felt a little jolt of fear about cleaning outside in my maid's outfit. Her first floor apartment was built in the late 50's. The balcony barely big enough for the little iron table and chairs. The ashtray was full and there was a broom. The balcony faced the thin trees that lined the driveway of the next building. The side wall that faced my building was chequered, one empty space along side each brick but the other longer side was just wrought iron. I hesitated again, from that balcony several dozen new apartments were visible. They were across the street and the people inside unidentifiable, but it still felt very public for me. The smoking woman said:

"Eyes down."

I was already head bowed, so I wasn't sure what she meant. She handed me a shirt and I thought it was a cleaning aid for a second before I realized it was *her* shirt.

I was desperate to look up at that fantastic chest inside that devil red bra.

"Balcony."

Was spoken and I felt myself just go out and start sweeping up. I brushed the dirt and the ash into the bag and turned to go inside to find the smoking woman standing in the doorway, still filming. She held out her hand and I gave her the shirt I was still clutching.

"Tights."

Was an order I didn't quite understand. Now feeling the chill of the winter air and the growing sense of being watched my those dozens of apartments across the way.

"Give me your tights now."

Was the clarification I needed. I started to take them off and the cold air hit my genitals. I froze, the mini dress on the French maids outfit was way too close to my junk for comfort.

Without hesitation the smoking woman's red bra landed at my feet. I took off my white stockings and as I handed them over, head bowed, a can of shaving cream and a packet of razors landed on top of her bra. The balcony door closed and locked.

Once again, frozen and aroused, my mind swimming with the thrill of humiliation coupled with the burning lust for this little Asian woman. It wasn't long before she was walking sideways across the living room camera in one hand covering both breasts with the other arm.

"Eyes down, shave!"

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