Damon, Jules and Marianna Part Two

As sensitive readers of Deborah Ford tales will attest, maids rarely fully grasp any situation without firm guidance from the Master or Mistress in the house. Thus it was, that Jules’ confidence in his wife being punished by the Bull, and not him, was severely misplaced.

Although sitting in the same spots as when Jules had left the room to retrieve the punishment implement, Damon was now deeply kissing Jules’ wife, Marianne. The wife gripped the hefty shoulders of the Brute as he sat on the arm of the chair as if trying to drag him into her. She made gasping wheezing sounds that Jules only ever heard when she was in the yob’s arms.

Even when they made love, Marianne barely uttered a sound.

To attract attention and alert them to his presence, Jules ostentatiously cleared his throat.

The only response was for Damon to wave a hand indicating that Jules should remain quiet.

Rolling his eyes, Jules bent a knee to alleviate the pressure on his high heeled feet. He had been given three and a half inch heels that very morning by a giggling Marianne. “Let’s see how you get on with these, maid,” she said, loving his predicament.

So time passed with Jules not moving. Did he yet again need to remind the two lovers about how much work he had to do with ironing and tidying up?

Finally, Damon slid to his feet with surprising agility for a man of his mass, almost as if he were a dancer.

To the annoyance of Jules, his wife, Marianne’s eyes were fixed lovingly on the brute.

Did she ever look at me with such need, Jules wondered. He felt a little queasy at how her affections appeared to have transferred away from her husband to the guy they only brought in to screw her.

Tugging his suit jacket tidily into position, Damon held out his hand for the crop.

For a gleeful moment, Jules thought it would be a amusing to whap the Bull across his open palm, but he knew the Bull never found japes like that funny. So he placed the crop in the Bull’s open palm with great care.

“Good girl,” Damon said, fishing in his pocket for his car key. There was little inflection in his voice, as if he just expected to be listened to. “Now go to my car. Open the boot and take out the box in it.”

Jules’ mouth fell open. “Your car? Outside?”

“Well the car isn’t parked in the kitchen is it?”

Marianne giggled at the supposed joke from the Bull. Jules resisted rolling his eyes but was definitely not going to laugh.

Bringing his eyebrows to a vee shape to make a point, Jules said, as it were obvious, “Hel-lo! People will see me! The neighbours!”

Damon placed his bear paw of a hand on Jules’ shoulders. “Maid, there are bushes around your driveway. It’s unlikely anyone will see you.”

Pouting, Jules knew that to be true. But no way was he going outside the house attired like this. This maid uniform was one of the sexualised ones, its hem fell just below the stocking tops. There was another, more practical maid’s dress that fell to the knee, but he and Marianne preferred this shorter one.

Stepping around his wife grinning in her chair, on tip toes Jules peered out of the window. It was true. The Bull’s flash white Audi was parked well up the drive, away from the road.

“I don’t know …”, Jules ventured.

Damon flicked the crop so it made a threatening whoosh through the air.

Jules jumped, making Marianne guffaw out loud.

The husband maid didn’t want to be on the receiving end of any cuts from that punishment stick. He so pitied his wife, who, in his mind, was going to face corporal punishment for being naughty earlier. But that was her problem.

“Of course,” Damon continued, matter of factly, as if discussing the weather, “I could pick you up and carry you out there. Maybe bend you over the end wall by the street for a spanking.”

The wife’s giggling stopped as she took her in her poor hubbies’ predicament. What would he do?

For a long moment, Jules studied the huge guy filling their sitting room with a cold casual menace. Would he commit such a dreadful act? Before the eyes of the entire street?

Standing high on his heels, Jules said, “Alright. I have decided to go and fetch your silly box from your silly car!”

“Good maid,” nodded Damon ignoring the bratty attitude.

There are some journeys that have such foreboding that a person will amble as slowly as possible, in the hope that they will never reach their destination.

Jules’ mind was trying to get into gear. If only he wasn’t permanently aroused and denied sexual release by removing the chastity cage, surely then he would think of a reason not to follow this terrifying instruction.

He was now inching down the hallway.

For a long moment he held the cold handle of the front door. There must be some reason not to go outside.

“Need any help, maid?”

“Oh!” Jules jumped.

The Bull was standing in the hall with the dreaded crop in his hand.

“No. No. It was just that …”

The words petered out and Jules felt his eyes sting with the onset of tears. He had always been aroused by humiliation, hence him agreeing to be their maid for the week. But humiliation in a controlled way. Once he stepped outside, he would be in a whole new world of pain and subjugation. It was like admitting total defeat. It was similar to the feeling when Damon kissed Jules’ wife and made her react in ways he had never before witnessed.

“You know,” Damon started.

Jules shoulders relaxed. Phew. Damon wasn’t going to make him do this after all. He turned to face the Bull with as pretty a smile as he could muster. It was just another of the Bull’s japes.

Damon raised his eyebrows and continued, “a spanking over your wall might help improve your disposition.”

What? Was he serious? Jules giggled at the joke, but Damon wasn’t laughing.

Surely he wouldn’t …

A coldness washed down his spine so Jules turned the handle and stepped outside into the chill of the afternoon.

Wearing stockings and panties under a short dress around the house was sexy and fun, but out here in the open air it left him feeling wholly vulnerable. The cold goose-bumped his thighs, making him more aware of the pink lacey panties than ever.

He stepped down the tiles of the porch, each heel noise seeming to resonate through the entire world. He looked outside and could see nothing but the bushes. Walking down the path, he smoothed down the back of his skirt against a light wind’s attempts to expose him. How often had he seen girls do that and found it amusing?

He just felt so helpless. So exposed. He turned the corner to head down the curved drive, double checking that he again couldn’t be seen by neighbours either side of his home or from the road. He passed his wife’s sports Jaguar and reached his own Jaguar saloon.

He was trying not to cry from the mind numbing mortification. How had he lost so much power in a matter of two days? This was no longer a game. He was a scantily dressed maid obeying the instructions of the mindless brute who had seduced his own wife in his own home!

He was now near the bonnet of his Jaguar with Damon’s wide, ostentatious Audi just a few steps before him.

Oh my God! If he got close to the car then he could be seen through the gates at the end of the drive. For a full minute he stared, fully alert for the presence of anyone. No one around! But someone could appear the moment he stepped closer to Damon’s car!

He bleeped the car unlocked and then pressed the boot open button. The car was facing up the drive so the boot was another fifteen feet down the pathway. Fifteen feet closer to the gate. Fifteen feet closer to anyone passing.

With a sudden determined effort, he clip clopped as speedily as he could down his drive, fully aware of how ridiculous his movements looked in his heels. He had to keep his elbows by his waist but his arms outstretched for balance.

There in the boot was a brown cardboard box, about two foot square. The word Amazon was stamped along the tape securing it and Jules could see Damon’s address. Gosh, the bull lived in a very well heeled area of the city. Even more upmarket than their own.

That irritated Jules no end. The Bull not only made his wife react so sluttily, in a way he could never as her husband could create, not only did he have a monster flash car, but he also resided in a superior part of the city.

Jules felt small and intimidated.  – And angry!

He picked up the box and closed the boot. The slam echoed around the streets, freezing him to the spot in mortal fear of discovery.

Then he made his way back up the drive. If walking down a drive in high heels was precarious, then the return journey was even more laboured.

Panic overwhelmed him, it was all he could do to keep walking until he reached the flatter area of the path, near his house.

Despite now knowing he was definitely hidden by the thick bushes he quickened his pace and raced through the porch slamming the front door.

Before he knew it, he was standing in the sitting room holding the large box he had been ordered to bring to the Bull.

“Put it on the table,” Damon said evenly.

Jules complied automatically. His brain was dead, his heart was racing, and his breathing was running at the rate of a jack hammer.

Finally, he stood up and stared at the Bull with tears melting his eyes.

Damon smiled and said, “come here, silly maid.”

The large man held out his arms and the maid threw herself at his body feeling the welcoming muscled limbs fold protectively around him.

In the safe, hard warmth of the Bull’s body, Jules sobbed.

Resting his cheek on the blonde hair of the maid, Damon whispered, “There, there, maid. It’s all right now.”

The maid whispered, ‘thank you’, but the sobbing made her sound too squeaky to be readily understood.

The wife’s lover’s large hands slid down the back of the maid’s dress, feeling the extra tight and locked corset beneath the silk, until they reached the buttocks. Damon patted the distressed maid’s cute bum very firmly.

“It’s all over now, maid.”

Sitting up straight, Marianne was gobsmacked. Was that really her husband weeping like a child in the arms of her caring boyfriend?

“Now get a tissue and dry those eyes,” Damon said softly.

The maid nodded and took out a sheath of tissues from a box. She dabbed at her eyes, being careful not to blur the eye makeup before blowing her nose noisily.

When near enough composed she dropped the wet tissues into a bin, pressed down her little frilly apron at the front of the short dress and stood to attention.

“Better now, maid?”

The maid nodded, not wishing to reply for fear of opening the floodgate to the tears again. So he stood, head bowed, hands lightly held before his skirt as Marianne had shown him to stand when awaiting instructions.

“Not always easy being a maid, is it?” Damon smiled.

Jules shook his head and sniffed.

Nodding, Damon said, “Well don’t you worry your silly, sissy little brain, I am here to help you face up to your struggles.”

“Thank you,” Jules said, meaning every word.

“Ok.” Damon stood tall, “Open the box, maid. It is a present for you. I think your mistress will like it too.”

Marianne’s attention went from her snuffling maid to the brown cardboard box. She wondered if it was lingerie for her, or more sissy outfits for her husband.

The maid tore gently at the packing tape around the box, until the lid popped open. Jules looked at the Bull for further instructions.

“Good maid,” Damon smiled. “Now look inside the box. And take out the contents.”

The maid nodded, smiling. Being obedient felt so good. Somehow it felt safe to obey. Comforting.

Jules lifted up the packaging to see a mess of packing paper. She pulled it out, intending to neatly place it on the coffee table.

But she stopped and froze at the sight of the contents.

What?

Damon calmly said, “Maid. Take it out and place it on the floor before your Mistress.”

Now Marianne was intrigued. What was it that so shocked her husband that he appeared frozen in time. Apparently, she was going to like it. Very mysterious.

The maid’s huge eyes stared at Damon with pleading.

The Bull’s head lolled to one side. “Go on maid, it won’t bite you. Be a big girl and take it out.”