Damon, Jules and Marianna Part One by Deborah Ford
Jules folded his arms over the silky, sky blue front of his maid’s dress, just below his enhanced, bouncy boobs.
Pressing his lips tight together he stared hard at his wife Marianna, until she looked away with raised eyebrows.
Without looking at her husband-maid, she said, “Honey, look …”
“And don’t honey me!” He barked back.
Marianna tapped at the sofa arms with her long pink fingernails, breathing deeply so that her tight dress rose and fell with breasts.
Jules bowed one knee the way he did when he sought to take pressure off one of his aching, high heeled feet. He felt his stockings rasp together at the thighs and instantly his willy filled the tiny steel cage locked securely to his person.
It had been time to take a stand. His wife and her thick, thug of a Bull, Damon, were having the time of their lives with all their sex and date nights, while he had a never ending list of miserable chores about the house.
The wife crossed her bare, brown legs and smiled. Time to try another approach.
“Honey,” she paused as her husband’s eyes widened in rage at the term. “Ok. Jules. Jules, I’d really like this to happen. You know my friends all know about you and your position in the house right now. You only have to serve them for an hour, two hours tops. They just want to see you …”
“Angela is a mouthy bitch and Venessa is cruel. She makes fun of me all the time. Even before she knew about me going to be a maid for two weeks she would always make others laugh at me. So. No. Fucking. Way!”
With that Jules stormed from the sitting room, head held high, point made, feeling pleased with himself.
That told her!
Sadly, he didn’t get very far. For some bizarre reason he walked straight into an unyielding wall.
In shock, he stepped back in his heels to see the physical presence of Damon, his wife’s bull filling the doorway. He wore a dark grey suit, crisp white shirt, ironed that morning by Jules and a blue tie, that was slightly off kilter.
“Oh, Sir!” Jules swallowed.
In a panic, Jules performed half a scruffy curtsey before taking another step back. He needed Damon to enter the room so that he, Jules, could flee it. Right now his bedroom would offer some safety.
But Damon remained in place, his balding head tilting back as he took in the dismayed Marianna.
“You ok?” The Bull asked.
Marianna sighed, saying, “Yes. I’m fine.”
She said it in that way women say ‘I’m fine’ when they want people to know everything is most certainly not fine.
Damon nodded, narrowing his eyes in thought.
“What was all that shouting?” Damon asked
“Oh, Sir,” Jules giggled. “No shouting. Not really. Just a slight misunderstanding. All sorted now.”
There were times when Damon spoke in a low, sotto voce manner, that carried the full weight of his authority in this household. As if he didn’t have to raise his voice to make a point. This was one of those times:
“Did I ask you maid?”
“Well, erm, no, not exactly, it’s just that …..”
Damon nodded. “Then wait until you are spoken to.”
“Yes Sir.” Jules attempted another awkward curtsey. “Of course, Sir.”
When Damon finally entered, with his full six foot two height ,and full chest and wide shoulders, it was like an ocean liner rolling into a small harbour.
He settled himself on the arm of Marianna’s chair and ran his fingers through her hair.
“What’s happened?” he asked the downcast wife.
These are always difficult situations for maids. No longer part of the conversation and not yet dismissed. Jules felt the best path forward was to edge slowly towards the hallway and then, when he was completely unnoticed, to flee.
“Nothing,” Marianna then shook her head and looked up at the hot Bull she and Jules had acquired from the meeting App. “Well, the maid tells me she isn’t going to serve my friends when they come here this afternoon. I’d invited them because they had heard all about Jules now being our maid for a couple of weeks. They just wanted to see it. That’s all. But Miss high and mighty maid here, tells me that’s not happening!”
Jules’ tummy felt as if all the air had been sucked from it. He was only a couple of steps from the safety of the hall now. If he had the courage to walk, he could be out in seconds, but he simply kept advancing forwards, inch by unnoticed inch.
Damon nodded sympathetically and spoke softly, “Yeh, well, I guess we did all agree not to involve others from outside the household.”
The maid gasped and stopped moving right next to the door, ready to escape. “Exactly! Yes. That’s right. We did!”
He had forgotten that precondition about this being between the three of them, to which they all agreed. In fact, since he had been locked up in his chastity cage for five days, he was so much in sexual need that he could barely remember anything anyway.
The Bull spoke quietly, without emphasis. “Be a good girl and stand in the corner.”
Jules was so close to escaping the wrath of the Bull.
“Erm Sir. I haven’t ironed your shirt for tomorrow yet. And the dishwasher needs emptying and …”
Damon smiled, “Good girl for being so eager, maid. But they can all wait for now. Be an extra special good girl and go and stand in the corner, like you’ve been told.”
Jules’ eyes took in the white ceiling seeking a further excuse to leave. Sadly, there wasn’t one.
“Yes, Sir. Very well Sir.”
The troubled maid walked slowly to the corner, his bottom wiggling, still seeking a reason to be elsewhere.
Damon said, “Hands on head, like the good girl I know you can be.”
Jules complied, eager to show his deference in an attempt to mitigate the trouble he felt he was in.
But Damon’s attention was fixed on his slut as he noticed her staring hard at her sissy husband. A smile was finally breaking on her face. The Bull was always amazed at the way wives enjoyed seeing their hubbies being put in their place, taken down a peg or two. And in this case, it had broken her mood, so he was already looking forward to fucking her stupid.
Damon kept his attention on the wife as he said to the maid, “And nose fully in the corner, girl.”
Oh! Bastard, Jules thought. Damon knew how much he hated that part! When you press your nose into the corner, your cheeks touch both the walls. Your feet scoot forward but nevertheless your arse sticks out in an embarrassing manner.
Jules complied, feeling the cold plaster touch his cheeks. How uncomfortable. He hoped the Bull wouldn’t keep him here long. He had told him about his shirt and dishwasher and there was much else he had on his chores list.
Damon ran his thick fingers through the wife’s delicate hair. She had relaxed visibly since the maid had been sent for corner time.
She pushed up her head so that she could enjoy his bear paw of a hand cradling her chin.
“I know you’re right,” she smiled at the masculine presence hanging protectively over her.
“Do you want me to have a word with the maid?” Damon asked.
A word? Jules gasped. Did that mean a punishment? A spanking? Would the Bull use the crop? He knew how Jules detested that! He maintained his position, barely wiggling his outstretched bottom even at the thought of physical punishment.
The wife shook her head with a sigh. “There’s no point is there? I mean the maid is right. It is what we all agreed. No one else to be involved.”
“Maid!” Damon announced.
Jules jumped. Had he been summoned?
“Maid,” Damon called out a second time.
Jules broke position and feeling a stone lighter clip clopped back into the Bull’s presence. He felt joyful inside. Damon had backed him up, and even his wife was in agreement.
“Keep your hands on your head, girl.” Damon’s tone was even. A man with so much authority he didn’t need to shout.
Jules giggled, still in good spirits. “Oh yes, Sir. Sorry Sir.”
The maid took in his wife’s countenance. She clearly was not happy at the outcome and appeared to be resigned to losing.
“Maid,” Damon announced, like a C.E.O. taking control of a boardroom, “you are quite right to point out that condition in our agreement. We all approved the notion of keeping our arrangement under this roof.”
Maintaining his palms in his hair, the maid said, “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
“Now be a good girl, take your hands off your head and fetch the crop from my office.”
The maid’s eyes grew as large as a lighthouse beam.
“Erm, Sir? I thought you said I …”
“Are you still here?”
“No!” the maid felt confused. His usual feeling these days. “Well, yes, I am. Sir …”
There is a way that Damon tilts back his head that terrifies Jules. There isn’t much of a change in the features, but it is a warning signal every bit as terrifying as a Cobra’s rasp or a tiger’s roar.
Now the Bull raised his eyebrows and with that signal Jules raced to the downstairs office.
Odd thoughts fill some foolish minds of sissies before they are due a punishment. No doubt a natural mechanism to help them cope with the terror they feel. In Jules’ case he suddenly realised that the Bull was going to punish Marianna for suggesting an action outside their agreement. Yes, that was it!
Even as he opened the long drawer containing a variety of implements, such as handcuffs and paddles, Jules was convincing himself that his wife was about to be spanked.
As an act of nobility, he would plead in her defence, tell Damon that he wasn’t upset by her inept instructions.
Yet even as he walked back holding the short thin crop, with the tassel at the end, Jule’s heart raced. Of course, it would be Marianna suffering. I mean, what had he one wrong? The Bull had sided with him after all.
So it was with a nervous smile, that Jules re entered the room.