The Understudy Ch. 01

As soon as I feel comfortable (or as comfortable as I can be in this slutty outfit) I pick up my phone to take a selfie. I don't know if I'll be allowed to share this for a while... secrecy and NDAs and all that shit... but I wanna save this pic for the future.

I snap a few pictures and look at the results. FUCK! I look absolutely fire, but I also look like a grade A whore! This dress is pressing the twins together; they look extra perky, but the low cut leaves almost nothing to the imagination... not to mention this incredibly short hemline, which barely covers my pussy!

I'm still wearing my teal panties, and I tug at the dress, trying to cover my crotch as best I can. I don't want to upset them by refusing to follow directions, but Marcus wouldn't reject me just for that, would he? No, of course not! I shake my head vigorously, trying to kick the negativity away. I can do this! I'm a big girl, and I can handle it!

Tentatively, I make my way to the door I entered through. My feet padding across the floor with nothing but the fishnet stockings on feels so strange, but I try to ignore the sensation.

"Hello, Mr Butler?" The old man never gave me his name. I feel a little nervous, as I crack the door open, looking for the only person I've yet seen in this giant estate. Part of me is glad of that fact; I don't want a ton of people seeing me in this skimpy outfit... I'd honestly call it a costume, but it's so well made that the word doesn't quite seem applicable.

The gentleman steps from around a corner, and I reel slightly with surprise. He seems entirely bored and unconcerned. Honestly his reaction is almost a little insulting. I know I look hot as hell in this silly dress, and he's acting totally disinterested. Is he gay? It doesn't matter. I should probably be glad that he isn't gawking at me like a piece of meat, but I must admit that my pride is wounded just a tad.

"Are you wearing the provided undergarments, madam?" His words are so cold, almost emotionless, without even the slightest hint of salacious desire.

"Well, I..."

He holds up a hand, silencing my protest. "If you are wearing them, then we may begin. If you aren't, please go and put them on. If you would rather refuse, please retrieve your own clothes, redress yourself, and leave. Those are your options."

I stand in the doorway, staring at him, with my mouth slightly ajar. How dare he talk to me that way? If I wasn't so desperate to work with Mr Deluna, I would tell this asshole off right this instant! I try my damnedest to swallow down my anger. I know that if I lose my temper, it will seem like poor professionalism, regardless of how absurd this demand is.

The man pulls an antique timepiece from his coat pocket. "We are running a bit behind schedule, madam. If you please..." Once again, he gestures toward the room with the table.

I can feel my face reddening with both embarrassment and anger. I want to curse this man out so badly, but I haven't even gotten to see Marcus yet! This guy could be hazing me or something for all I know! Once I've met with Mr Deluna, I'll have a talk with him about the way his hired help treats the guests!

I storm back into the room, shutting the door forcefully behind me. I didn't quite slam it, but it was close. Walking briskly back to the table, I again glance around to make sure that I'm alone before I snatch off my panties, and pull the thong on. Just as before, it is a perfect fit.

Uggh... I've always hated the way that g-strings feel between my asscheeks. It isn't entirely unpleasant, and the fabric is heavenly soft... but still. I would never wear this otherwise.

I charge back to the door, and as soon as I've opened it, I see the butler again. He's setting up a camera tripod in the center of the room. I open my mouth to say something sharp, but I close it again. I'll just speak with Marcus about it. He's a fellow actor. He'll understand.

The camera he has doesn't look much like a video camera, more like a model designed to take photos, but I suppose some of the new versions can do both...? Wordlessly, he gestures for me to stand in the middle of the room. I notice for the first time that there is a bucket and a sponge within the camera's field of view. Stage props, I suppose.

I step over to the bucket, and I'm surprised to see it is actually full of a soapy cleaner. It smells quite strong, and my nose wrinkles slightly at the smell. I open my mouth to inquire about it, when I see the camera flash. That asshole didn't even give me time to strike a pose. The camera blooms twice more, before the butler speaks again.

"Please begin scrubbing the floor, Ms Melody."

Whatever, fine. I don't know why they bothered with actual cleaning supplies, but that certainly isn't the strangest part of today. "I dip the sponge into the cleaning solution. The camera is focused right on me, and so is that old fart of a butler. In this ridiculously short uniform I'd have to be a contortionist to get onto my hands and knees without flashing my g-string, but I do the best I can. The camera flashes again while I'm moving, and I have to fight not to glare at him. Not only could that shot have caught something revealing, but it certainly wouldn't have shown me from the best angle. I swirl the sponge across the floor, conscious of my prominently-revealed cleavage. There's no way he hasn't noticed."

I can see a dull sense of disapproval on the older man's face. "Please, Ms Collins, it seems like you're pantomiming. You need to legitimately clean the floor, if you will."

I smile at the camera with my eyes shut, in order to hide the fuming annoyance smoldering just below the surface. This is a necessary evil I suppose. As soon as Marcus gets here, I'll be done dealing with this frustrating old fart.

"Do try to stay within the camera's lens, if you please. I'll be back to get you in about an hour or so." Without another word, he turns on his heel and walks from the room, closing the door behind him.

An hour? What the hell? The camera is staring at me, and I realize that this must be a test. Marcus is seeing how I can handle myself under difficult circumstances! If I'm asked to dress like a slutty fool, and scrub the floor, will I do it? Will I put everything into this job? I have to show him my dedication. I have to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I am the woman for the job; my dedication knows no bounds, and I'll scrub the shit out of these floors!

I begin to clean dutifully, really putting my back into the work. I must look like a clown right now, but there's no way I'm going to give up. They want to see my grit? My determination? I'll show them. I'll clean this whole fucking floor if I have too!

I begin to scrub.

The whole fucking floor... as the time passes, I realize that I may indeed wind up cleaning the entire thing, and the exertion is getting the better of me. I think I've been scouring this floor for almost two hours now, and no one comes when I call. I've taken care to keep from flashing my ass into the camera, but on all fours I can't hide my cleavage, and I'm almost beyond caring at this point!

This floor isn't dirty, but it does have a subtle waxy film that takes some real elbow grease to clean up. Clearly, this is a fucking test! The camera is watching my every move, and Marcus wants to see my work ethic. I want to show him too, but fuck! I haven't worked this hard in years!

I wipe a bit of sweat from my brow, breathing out a deep sigh. I know I probably look like shit right now. To my chagrin. I realize that some of my red hair has worked loose from my ponytail, and I'm positive it's starting to frizzle. Also, all this time on my knees has left a tear in my left stocking. Fuck! These were expensive thigh-highs, and now they are basically ruined. Hopefully Marcus will let me clean up after this stupid endurance test. I refuse to give up, but I feel like this is a huge waste of time!

I still need to try to look as appealing as possible. When Marus finally reviews the footage... I turn to the camera, and an audible gasp escapes my lips. Marcus is standing right next to the tripod, and he is watching me with an intense gaze that sends a single shiver down my spine. How long has he been there? The look on my face must be one of shock and surprise, because I can see the amusement in his subtle smirk.

He extends a hand over to the camera, and presses the shutter button. There is another burst of light, and Marcus takes a step towards me. He is dressed in an impeccable, black suit; every inch of him glows with a sophisticated elegance. I know that his attire is incredibly expensive, but he wears it so casually, as if he just threw on the first thing he saw, and emerged looking like a pure Adonis. His sports coat hangs naturally across his broad shoulders, with a crisp designer shirt and a discreetly luxurious tie. Extending down to his designer slacks and his perfectly shined shoes, he is the very image of the perfect, nearly unattainable bachelor.

The man's hair is styled to perfection with an Ivy League trim; it looks as if he just stepped out of one of his films where he was playing a secret agent or something. A dark, well-groomed beard adorns his face, and combined with his professionally groomed mustache, give him a rugged, impressively sexy, masculine visage.

I swear I can feel my face flush as I stand, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze. This is MARCUS DELUNA! And he's looking right at me with those brilliant eyes that make me feel so small and silly, like an immature high school girl.

He's only about 10 years my senior, but I remember watching his early films as a teenager; it may not be perfectly professional to admit this, but he's probably one of my earliest celebrity crushes. Now, being in the same room with him, I can feel all of the charisma he displayed on screen being magnified tenfold.

I scramble to my feet, trying to pull the hem of my dress down; it feels like a pointless gesture. It is not going to cover my thighs, and the more I tug on the front of the garment, the more it pulls down my neckline. "Mr... uhhh Deluna! It is so good to see you." Marcus steps close to me, and for the first time I realize exactly how tall he is. All actors appear tall on screen, but this man is the real deal. His raw, alluring masculinity is undeniable.

"You shouldn't call me Mr Deluna." His words are calm, with a strange edge that I can't recognize.

"Oh... Marcus then..." I begin, but I see him shaking his head again. I pause, unsure of how to continue.

"You can refer to me as Sir, if you would. Or Master. Whichever you prefer, although only address me as Sir when others are present." My eyes widen with shock, and I can see realization dawning on his face. "How much of the NDA did you actually read, Melody?"

Well "Mr... I mean, Sir. I... uhhh... I skimmed it a bit, because I was so eager to get started with you..."

He shakes his head, as if disappointed. "I should have expected as much. Melody, since you didn't bother to read the entirety of the document which you signed, would you like for me to give you the basics?"

I can feel a massive lump growing in my throat. This is not at all how I had planned for this conversation to go. He is not addressing me as an equal; I'm not even being spoken to like a less experienced understudy. He's speaking to me as if... well as if I am indeed the maid which I am dressed like. That doesn't mean... that couldn't mean... I am unable to finish the thought.

"In short, I am willing to pay you to be my live-in maid. You will attend to all my house and to me, in any way which I require. If you are willing to keep to your end of the contract, you will live here, tending to me, in every conceivable manner. The agreement will last for 5 years. During that time, I will pay for all of your expenses; I will take care of your every monetary need. But you will be required to tend to my every need, including every physical need."

As he speaks, he begins slowly walking around me, circling me like a shark. A hand slips down and floofs the hem of my skirt, exposing my nearly bare ass. I reach down to cover myself, but he has already stepped away again. I can feel my heart pounding rapidly now. This has gone past anything acceptable, and veered directly into sexual harassment. I need to do something, but in this moment, I have no idea how to proceed. I feel a deep sense of unease building rapidly.

I am struggling to form coherent thoughts within my mind. "But..."

"Once your contract is complete, you will receive a sum of fifty million dollars, and I will recommend you to a few of the directors that I have worked with in the past. Of course, they will not necessarily hire you, but my suggestions do go a long way, as you can imagine.

If I thought that concrete thoughts were difficult to form before, now they seem like a completely foreign concept. "But... why... fifty..."

"Why so much money, you ask?" Deluna shrugs. "Fifty million is a drop in the bucket for me, as you may know. And I need to make the deal sweet enough that you won't get cold feet. In all honesty, money is just a lure that I'm dangling for you, hoping that you'll bite. I find you uniquely alluring, so cost is not an object in my decision."

I open my mouth, but my words refuse to leave. What could I possibly say, when presented with such an insane proposition?

"There are other reasons that the pay is so high. I chose you for several reasons. One, naturally, you are incredibly beautiful. I have no qualms about saying that. Secondly, you are in a financial slump, and that puts you in a poor position to reject my offer. Also... and you must forgive my lack of discretion here... I did a bit of digging into your past with your old boyfriends, and they all describe you as a submissive lover, both demure and receptive in bed. That is exactly what I am searching for in a paramour.

A paramour? So this is a sexual solicitation! Marcus has been talking to my exes? Inquiring about the way I behave in bed? My eyes are already wide with shock, but somehow they seem to grow wider. Without even thinking, I begin to protest. "But... I'm not-!"

"...a prostitute?" He interrupts. As he speaks, he steps forward, pressing his body tight against my back. A single arm coils around my waist, pulling me firmly against his body. My breathing accelerates and I want to pull away, but something within is holding me still.

I can hear his deep voice, whispering directly into my ear. "Of course not. If you were a whore I wouldn't be considering you for this... role. It's the very fact that you've never made yourself available in exchange for consideration..." He places a hand on my shoulder. My stomach does a flip, and I bite my lower lip to stifle a whimper. "...that's another factor that drew me to you in the first place."

I am trying to force words out, to address the insanity of the decision he's placed in front of me, but the words have seemed to have bottlenecked in my throat. They refuse to leave. His body is pressed so tightly against mine, that I swear I can feel his pounding heart, but perhaps that is just my own... I know for a fact that it is beating out of control.

"What I want from you, is for you to act as my maid. That will be your primary task in this house. You will wait on me, hand and foot, but you will also be paid handsomely for your time. While in my employ, you will be required to cater to my every whim. And of course, I do mean every whim. I will be firm with you, and not overly gentle. I do not intend to be cruel, but I also will not abide disobedience."

"Dis...disobedience...?"

Marcus lets go of my body, shifting his attention to my hair. Deftly, his hands move up to my firefly locks, pulling my ponytail loose with a single motion. My hair cascades down to my shoulders. I want to focus on how I look, but the anxiety refuses to relent. He moves his strong hands downward, letting his fingers dance across my torso, in a gesture that sends arousal straight to my sex.

He begins to circle me again as he speaks. He is looking over every inch of my body, and even if this damn french maid's outfit wasn't so skimpy, I feel like he could see right through my clothes, regardless. A finger dips down and drags across my ass cheeks, tickling my bare flesh. I want to slap it away, but the feeling is so damnably pleasant... and it is coming from such an attractive man. I feel entirely lost at sea.

"If you defy me, I will discipline you. My judgment will be swift and firm. If you decide that I am too harsh... which of course, you have every right to do... then all you need to do is say, 'Marcus Deluna, I rescind our agreement.' The very second that those words are spoken, our arrangement is complete, and you will be required to leave. Any compensation that you have been promised will be voided by your decision to end the contract. You will not be given a second chance. So be careful."

He lets the words hang in the air. Of all the things that I imagined could happen today, this had not been anywhere on the list. How in this day in age, could a man think to make such a bold, outrageous request? I could report him, get him canceled... I could make his world crumble around him.

I can hear a quiet voice inside my mind reminding me that I won't do any of those things. There is no way I will reject this offer, because the alternative is so unthinkable. This is like one of those stupid social media memes, where they show a picture of a cottage, and ask "Would you live here for one year with no internet for a million dollars?' I always found those questions tedious and dumb. Who would turn that down?

And yet here I am now, with the incredibly handsome Marcus Deluna standing directly behind me. I can feel his soft breath on the back of my neck. Ooh... this uniform doesn't give me any protection at all.

"You're probably wondering why I don't just get a normal girlfriend and a normal maid, hmm?" He seems lost in his own thoughts as he speaks. "The answer to that is simplicity itself. I am sick of all the conceited women in this city, soaking up all the money and affection that I have to offer, and somehow never seeming satisfied. They don't want an equal. They don't even want a boyfriend. What they want is a sugar daddy. That would be fine, perhaps... if they acknowledged what I did for them. But they never do. They always take and take... pretending that the relationship is mutually beneficial. But with you, Melody, things will be different. You will be my maid, and outside this mansion, you will be required to play the part of my girlfriend... but in fact, I will be calling the shots. You will be answering to me one hundred percent of the time. Simply doing what I require and being rewarded for it."

My voice is a little shaky, but I finally find my tongue. "What... within this house... what... uh what kind of things would I be doing?" The anxiety in my words is tangible.

Marcus chuckles. It is a warm, light-hearted laugh, but it is full of gentle mockery. "Every whim, Melody. I'm sure you can figure that out. You're a smart girl. Would you like me to give you a demonstration of some of the duties required?"

I want so badly to say no, but somehow my body moves without my permission; I nod timidly. My eyes are downcast, and as he steps in front of me, I am already gazing towards the buckle of his pants. He places his powerful hands on my shoulders and begins to apply gentle downward pressure.

Immediately, my back stiffens, and I can feel my body resisting his urgings. He is trying to force me to my knees. I know what he wants. A young woman pressed to her knees before a suave, successful, handsome man. A man who has declared himself her master... Every part of me knows exactly what he requires, and I'm aware that it's crazy to deny him. Am I rejecting his proposal outright? Of course not, but the feminist within me will not kneel without a fight. I am struggling with myself now, as well as with him.