The Maid's Motto Ch. 03

Cindy picked at her food. She couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't attractive enough. The poker night played repeatedly in her mind. The handsome, mysterious man had fucked all the other girls but not her. Any other guy would have picked her first, yet this guy didn't even look at her. There could be a million reasons, but the power that moment held over her would never go away until she found out why.

"So, how's the new cleaning arrangement going with Cher?" her mother asked.

"Cheryl backed out of the deal."

"That sister of yours. Always reneging on her deals."

"It's fine mom, she's too busy anyway."

"What's wrong honey? Usually this is exactly the type of thing you two fight over."

"Nothing, I'm just tired." Cindy said.

It wasn't a lie. She had tossed and turned every night thinking about the man. Her mother put her hand on Cindy's.

"Is it boy trouble?"

Cindy retracted her hand in a hurry. "Seriously mom, you'd be the last the person I'd talk to."

"So then talk to your father. He'll straighten that boy out."

"Gross. Like you guys even know what that's like these days."

Her mother smiled pleasantly. "We were young once too, sweetheart."

Cindy rolled her eyes and pushed her bowl in.

"Thanks for the soup, but I'm going to head out." She got up and hugged her mother.

"Oh, before I forget, we can't do dinner anymore this weekend. Something came up at the church." Her mother said.

Cindy shrugged her shoulders. She couldn't understand how people spent as much time at church as her parents did, but to each their own.

"That's fine. We can reschedule."

Her mind was entwined in her other matter. She didn't know how to find the mysterious man, but she knew where to start.

***

"Perfect. Now give me the claws... Excellent." Lucas said as he directed one of his models against a jungle backdrop.

Cindy waited until he saw her. His reaction was predictable.

"All right let's take five."

Lucas walked over with a jump in his step and arms wide open.

"Cindy. Thanks for returning my call. Glad you could make the effort." Lucas said sarcastically. "Are you here to make it up to me, by showing off that sexy body on camera?"

Lucas lifted her shirt and Cindy smacked his hand away. He was fun when he didn't seem to care. Evidently, he cared very much about her, which left a bad taste in her mouth. A taste of desperation that Cheryl had warned her about.

"No, I want to know where I can find that guy from your poker night. The guy who won."

"Oh." Lucas's body deflated like air out of a balloon. "I thought you guys didn't ... you know."

"That's the problem."

"Maybe he wasn't into you."

"I want to hear that from his mouth." Cindy said.

It wasn't a sure thing coming to Lucas, but it was her only lead. She didn't even have a name for the mysterious man or any of the other guests and maids.

"Come on Lucas, can you at least give me a name?"

The return of the troublemaking grin and shift of body language from slouched to casual, signalled that Lucas realized his needy behavior. It was nice to have her friend back.

"His name is James and to be honest with you, I don't really know much about him." Lucas said. "What I do know is that my friend who brought him is a bartender at The Pound. His name is Thomas."

Progress. Cindy hugged Lucas, who still maintained his casual behavior. They had their fun together at Cheryl's expense, but he could sense it was over.

"You ever want another photo shoot. Hit me up." Lucas said.

Cindy nodded. "Thanks Lucas."

She left and he went back to his model, another girl he could latch on to.

***

Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound of the clock seemed like a part of Kat now. The noise was almost hypnotic in its consistency. Since she started working as the grandfather clock, Mr. Wallace had offered her the bedroom that she usually cleaned to stay in between shifts. So, instead of changing into her maid's uniform and cleaning, Kat changed into the clock uniform and became a piece of Decor. She had arranged with Cheryl to take over her clients while she was working on her special project. However, with only two of them under the new business model, Kat was worried that if they found more clients with extensive needs, the cleaning would fall behind and clients would be lost. There had to be a solution to taking on more clients while still maintaining the quality of service.

Kat's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Mr. Wallace walked into the room followed by a man she had never seen before.

"As I've iterated, there's plenty to choose from and plenty more on their way." Mr. Wallace said.

The man stopped and glanced at the clock. He looked at Mr. Wallace and gestured to it.

"Ah yes, this is only a temporary piece." Mr. Wallace said.

"But a fine one at that." the man said. He walked over to Kat and gently stroked her cheek. "The one in the kitchen was lovely, but this one...great finish and the curves are amazing."

"We take pride in our items." Mr. Wallace said proudly.

"I can see that. One of many beautiful pieces."

The two men moved onto the next room. Of course she had a great finish, her makeup was flawless. And her curves came from years of working out and toning her body. All of her hard work was paying off and her value was highlighted by the mere privilege of being a clock for her client. Only the most beautiful things were on display, and Kat's red hair, pale complexion and petite size were the perfect combination of beauty and grace. Hour after hour she stood with a blank stare and did her job as a grandfather clock. It was peaceful. It was blissful. It was fulfilling. How would she ever be able to go back to cleaning? It was a decision she dreaded. For now, Kat stood tall and beautiful. If she did her job well, how could they let her go?

***

"Honey, your dinner is served." Cheryl said. She was wearing a blue, skin tight dress that showed plenty of cleavage even with a white apron draped over top. Her makeup was flawless with deep red lipstick, and black mascara that helped highlight her blue eyes. And of course, a housewife was nothing without her 5-inch high heels. Cheryl moved with the attitude of 50's housewife but dressed like a modern trophy wife. She placed the steaming plate on the table in front of her and patiently waited for her man.

Because Kat was still working with her new client on a special assignment, it was Cheryl's job to take over for Kat's other clients. However, Cheryl was still adjusting to the new motto and guaranteed cleaning experience that Kat had established. There was nothing off limits to the clients, which became clear when the first client demanded that she dress as a Stepford wife the moment he saw her. According to Kat's notes, he was recently divorced, but still had the hots for his ex-wife. Cheryl quickly realized she shared a striking similarity to his ex and was forced to play into his version of a perfect marriage.

Mr. Smith sat down at the table and looked at the perfectly grilled steak dish before him. He cut a piece off and stuffed it in his mouth.

"Delicious honey."

"Would you like a side of blow job with that?"

"Of course."

"Anything for the best husband in the world."

Cheryl sunk to her knees and crawled under the table. It was weird playing into someone else's fantasy. Something Kat must have been used to by now. All Mr. Smith wanted was a beautifully complacent wife who showed complete dedication to her husband. Something lacking from his previous marriage, or any healthy marriage for that matter.

The bulge in his pants couldn't hide Mr. Smith's excitement. Cheryl took that as a compliment to her acting skills as a dedicated housewife. She unzipped his pants and fished out his cock. As a perfect housewife, her job wasn't just to look like a blond bombshell or cook like a five-star chef. Every duty had to be carried out with care and dedication. That meant she was going to suck his cock like a porn star. Sloppy, loud and extremely pleasurable for the recipient while he enjoyed his steak dinner. Although, the act of giving oral had never appealed to Cheryl, she knew enough to convince Mr. Smith that she was a submissive and cock crazy wife. Surprisingly, as her mouth gobbled and slurped up and down his shaft, her pussy was going crazy. Each bob sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through her body. It was the same pleasure that had been present while she was cooking his dinner.

Cheryl's hand found her pussy. She hit all her favorite spots, but nothing came close to the blissful feeling she received from letting Mr. Smith fuck her face. Adding nothing but more work, the personal masturbation session ended, and Cheryl focused her sole attention on worshiping the cock in her mouth. A porn star wasn't concerned about her pleasure, she was concerned about her partner's and about giving the best performance she could.

To Cheryl's disappointment, Mr. Smith didn't last long. It was a testament to her amateur, yet effective oral skills. Before he lost control, he commanded Cheryl to give herself a facial. She happily pulled his cock out and aimed it at her smiling, waiting face as she jerked him to completion. To her dismay, even the act of jacking him off generated more positive feelings than she had experienced while playing with herself. Within a minute, his cock exploded and covered her face in all her hard work. She looked up with a smile as the cum dripped down. Mr. Smith grinned back while chewing a piece a of steak.

"Go stand in the corner and wait until I'm finished."

"Of course, honey."

Cheryl stood up and walked over to her new position. The act of obediently standing still while the cum dripped down her chin and onto her clothes kept her in a happy place. It finally dawned on her why Kat insisted that they try a new approach to business. It wasn't just to boost client morale; it was also to boost their own morale. And with each passing second, while she stood as commanded, Cheryl felt the difference. Making the client's life easier was one of the most rewarding experiences she had ever felt, both mentally and physically. Even waiting had a sense of calm enlightenment she thought would only be possible after years of meditation. And here she was experiencing it after giving one blow job.

Mr. Smith finished his meal and ordered her to the kitchen to clean up his dishes. She happily complied, not because she had to but because she wanted to. Everything she did made her feel good and that included doing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen for the second time. After she was done, Cheryl brought Mr. Smith a beer for the football game he usually watched after dinner. In return, she was commanded to give him a foot message. Another act that was almost as pleasant as giving him a blow job. The feelings were so intoxicating that Cheryl craved more tasks.

Her wishes were answered when she was ordered to act as a footstool after finishing the massage. The perfectly dressed modern Stepford trophy wife got down on all fours and felt the weight of her pretend husband's feet on top of her petit back. Why didn't all women act in this manner? There would be far more marriages that survived if a wife was complacent and compliant in attending to her husband's needs.

"Honey, you know what would be a great idea? If you wore the lingerie from our wedding night." Mr. Smith said.

With each command came an additional sensation of euphoria as Cheryl carried it out. She understood her role as a trophy wife and the hard work that came with it. By now she had accepted, at least for the day, the loving and cheerful mindset needed to succeed in such a role. It was a thankless job, and her only reward was knowing her husband was satisfied. However, the strange request jarred Cheryl free momentarily. Why was she letting this man boss her around like some slave?

Cheryl's smile disappeared. "I'd rather not."

For a moment the fantasy dropped on both ends. The weight of his feet on her back caught her attention as did the other feelings she hadn't quite noticed just a few minutes earlier. The stickiness and smell of the cum drying on her face. The pains and aches from carrying out housework all day in her unconventional outfit, which she could feel encasing her body like a tightly wrapped cocoon. Mr. Smith tightened up and removed his feet from Cheryl's back. She had been saying yes all along, why was this request any different?

"I want you to put the lingerie on from our wedding night." Mr. Smith said in a hesitant tone. Far softer than the tone he used earlier during dinner.

Cheryl's body relaxed. The good feelings engulfed her again. 'Make the customer's life easier.' How could she deny the man the experience of reliving one of his best nights? Her bright smiled flashed at Mr. Smith.

"Of course, honey." Cheryl said. "I'll be ready for you after the game."

She got up from the ground, kissed Mr. Smith on the cheek and left to prepare for an eventful evening.

Inside Mr. Smith's room were the remnants of a former marriage overpowered by the laziness of a male now living on his own. Clothes were everywhere except one side of the room, which was kept clean and clear. Her former side. Clearly, he was still not over her and Cheryl prancing around wasn't exactly helping, but at least it gave him a positive escape.

The closet was the same story. Half in chaos, half cleared out. The only thing left behind was an old cardboard box sitting on the top shelf. Inside was the gently used red lingerie set complete with garters and stockings. Looking around, amongst the various blue and black clothes, the red heels tucked away with the other shoes stuck out like a sore thumb.

The uniform was all there and in pristine condition. Used once and forever preserved. Cheryl had reservations about going through with it, but the calming feeling she experienced from the other commands guided her through the motions of changing. Each piece gave a boost of positive energy for the next piece until she was fully dressed in her new slutty uniform.

Cheryl caught her reflection in the mirror and blushed at the sexy blonde staring back. The lingerie was a perfect fit. She was almost a carbon copy of Mr. Smith's ex-wife. The only difference was their faces, but even then, it was easy to spot some similarities at certain angles.

After making sure her outfit was in order, Cheryl crawled on the bed and waited on all fours. With a moment of silence to herself, Cheryl's mind raced with other concerns. Kat was off doing a special project for Mr. Wallace and she was stuck doing the grunt work. That was not the best way to run a partnership. She didn't mind taking Kat's clients for a week or two, but the lack of transparency from Kat and Mr. Wallace created a problem. If this arrangement was going to work long-term, all of them had to be on the same page.

The new tasks were also a bit concerning. Instead of just cleaning, they were now offering a wide variety of services including tasks Cheryl would previously have never considered in a million years. Role playing as a wife and giving a blow job to a stranger were crazy to think about. In fact...This whole scenario was crazy. She was dressed in a client's ex wife's lingerie waiting for him to fuck her. Why?

Cheryl got off the bed. Why did she dress in the lingerie? Why was this even an option? It had nothing to do with cleaning or being a maid. She needed to get out of there and have a stern conversation with her business partner. If Kat let Mr. Smith fuck her, that was fine, but that was not how Cheryl conducted her business. She hurried over to the door and opened it. Mr. Smith stared back with an excited grin.

"You look amazing." Mr. Smith said.

He walked forward and slowly forced Cheryl back inside.

"I think I should get going." Cheryl said.

"Get going? But you look so stunning."

Cheryl tried to move, but Mr. Smith blocked her path.

"Please." Cheryl said.

"You know what will put your mind at ease. Masturbating for me."

Anytime Cheryl had anxiety, masturbation was one of the many stress relievers that worked. Maybe it would work in this scenario. It also had the added luxury of making the client happy, something that had slipped Cheryl's mind. This wasn't about her; it was about the client. She didn't like being dressed like his ex, but he did. And that's all that mattered.

Cheryl hopped up on the bed and spread her legs. With one hand holding the thong out of the way, the other fingers teased the opening of her pussy as her seductive gaze drew Mr. Smith in. This is what he wanted. Her fingers dove inside, and a wave of pleasure washed over her. While she reaped the benefits of her one woman show, Mr. Smith quickly discarded his clothes, which disappeared amongst the many piles on the floor.

Mr. Smith was not a patient man, something that likely lead to his separation from his ex-wife. Instead of letting Cheryl finish, he hurried over with his cock out and pushed her onto the bed. There was no foreplay or easing into it. Encouraged by her appearance and clothing, he entered her with reckless abandon. Not wanting to wreck the mood, Cheryl played along as best she could. She made out with him and loosened up as he made love to her. But something wasn't right.

Cheryl had many different experiences with men and their unique idiosyncrasies when it came to sex, but one thing that remained constant was the pleasure of her pussy being filled. Even if the guy ruined the foreplay, the feeling of a cock filling her hole always gave her libido a jumpstart. But with Mr. Smith, Cheryl felt nothing. There was no feeling at all from the constant movement of his body against hers. It was exactly how she always imagined a sex doll would feel.

"You like that." Mr. Smith sputtered between kisses.

"Ya." Cheryl said, doing her best with a sexy voice.

She hated it. He was the first guy that she had ever slept with that couldn't even get her going by doing the one thing that was guaranteed to work. Cheryl tried thinking of other times she had been aroused. Past lovers. Guys with their shirts off. Kat. Cindy fucking Lucas. Nothing triggered any sort of satisfying feeling.

"Come on baby, moan for me." Mr. Smith said as he kissed down her body and then sucked on her nipples.

Cheryl moaned. And then it happened. As soon as he touched her nipples, the feeling of euphoria returned. The world started spinning again. She moaned and screamed and cried at the touch of his tongue assaulting her nipples haphazardly. His concentration clearly reflected in his sporadic thrusts. Despite the inconsistency, the nipples were slathered in saliva and the sensitivity was driving Cheryl closer to orgasm than she realized. As if the unorthodox nature of his thrusts carried over to the rest of sex, he abruptly stopped sucking on her nipples and lifted his body up for better leverage. Cheryl tried to moan to keep in the mood, but Mr. Smith's fingers hooked in her mouth preventing her from doing so.

And like a switch, the good feelings died. Despite being fucked, Cheryl couldn't feel anything. She felt like a sex doll with all the pleasure of the sexual transaction transferred over to Mr. Smith. His grubby fingers in her mouth kept her head steady as he finished his job, using her body to get himself off. Feeling like a human fleshlight, Cheryl kept her mouth shut and didn't complain as he emptied his load inside her. That's what her pussy was there for. To be filled up by customers to make their lives easier.

Mr. Smith's refractory period was evident by the regret, confusion, and satisfaction mixed into one puzzled look. He pulled out and stepped back. Cheryl remained with cum oozing from her pussy onto the bed.

"Ummm...Eat my cum while I go clean up." Mr. Smith said.