05 November 2011

Becoming my Ex-Wife's Maid and Servant

By: Dani

Becoming my ex-wife's housekeeper/maid was not something I was expecting
when we got divorced two years ago.  Our divorce was mostly due to the
fact that her career had taken off, while my career fizzled in this bad
economy.  It made our marriage difficult as our roles got reversed.  I
stayed home and took care of the house, while she became the
breadwinner.  But our divorce was amicable as divorces go...

Running into her at the grocery store was uncomfortable to say the
least.  She asked me if I had gotten a job and I sheepishly told her
that I was still unemployed.  She bragged about her latest promotion to
Senior Vice President.  Her income was at least $300,000 + per year.  I
wasn't jealous, but as usual, she was on top.  Then, out of the blue,
she said that she might have a job for me.  She told me to call her on
Monday.

The last thing I wanted to do was call Jennifer.  But on Monday, with
trepidation, I dialed her number.  The secretary answered the phone and
I made an appointment for 4:00.  It was a little demeaning to use my
ex-wife for a job lead—but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Jen's office was amazing!  She sat behind a huge oak wood desk with at
least six computer monitors.  She actually had two secretaries because
of her giant work load.  Jen was on the fast track because she was
talented, beautiful, and fierce in business.  She looked sexy in her
Armani business suit, with her black hair in a stylish pulled back bun.
At age 39, she could pass for a 29 year old.  She looks like an older
version for Princess Kate.

I was a little intimidated, having to remind myself that I was there
looking for a job.  Then, Jen broke the news to me.  She wanted to hire
me as her housekeeper!  I was totally speechless.  She said that she
was having a terrible time finding someone good to take care of her
home.  Plus, Courtney, my former step-daughter, was coming home from
college for the summer.  They would really need help.  It was actually
Courtney's idea to hire me.

Jen said, "This job is perfect for you.  You will have a home, security,
and a job.  You have always been good at housework.  Now, instead of
being 'my wife,' you will be my maid, confidante, and servant.  I know
it will be hard at first to take orders from your ex-wife, but over time
you will become used to it.  The past is the past.  You will start
fresh.  Courtney has even chosen a cute uniform for you to wear."

I was stunned—but for some reason, I was actually considering the job.
At age 36, with few job prospects, the idea of having no financial
burdens seemed intriguing.  I guess I was a good housekeeper, because
when we were married, Jen always liked the way I did things.  I did all
the housework while she focused on her career.  We divorced partly
because she thought I was too much of a sissy.  She liked masculine
guys—good athletes—construction worker types.  I was like that when we
met, but over time I guess I did become a little effeminate.

Jen said that I could start next week.  However, there were some
stipulations.  Jen had already drawn up a 'Maid's Contract.'  It was in
small print.  As usual, she had the upper hand.  It stipulated that I
would have to wear my uniform at all times while on duty.  I was to work
7 days a week—but I would get occasional time off.  It was too long to
read all the details—so I just signed the contract.  How bad could it
be?



I was about to be evicted from my apartment, so having a place to live
was very appealing.  Jen and Courtney had a beautiful condo in the
trendy part of town.  I thought becoming a live-in maid was not my dream
job, but at least I had some security.

My room was the 'Maid's Quarters.'  It was a tiny room behind the
laundry room.  The condo had three bedrooms, but one of them was for
guests.  I was content with my lot, looking forward to getting moved in.
Jen told me to bring very little clothing since I would be wearing my
uniform.  My belongings fit into one suitcase.  I sold my furniture,
television set and everything else.  I was starting a fresh, new life.

Courtney had just returned from school for the summer.  I was happy to
see her.  Courtney is a stunning 20-year old.  She has short blond hair
with pink highlights—kind of funky.  She could pass for one of those
actresses you see on shows like Gossip Girl.  She always dresses in
slinky, lingerie type tops with tight fitting jeans.  When I was
married to her mother, I made sure to never glance or leer at her in an
inappropriate way.  We got along OK,  but she was occasionally bossy.
She thought of me as the hired help rather than as a step-father.

Well, my uniform was an immediate issue.  Courtney had chosen an
androgynous maid-type outfit.  It consists of black leggings, a white
satin skirt, and a leotard top.  There is also a satin apron and hat.
The shoes are a two-inch wedge.  When I objected, Courtney warned, "You
are lucky that I chose this outfit.  My mother wanted you to wear a
total French Maid's outfit with 4-inch heels.  You will get used to it."

Courtney said, "You better get started cleaning before my mother gets
home.  I am going to the mall with friends.  Make sure you do my laundry
that I brought home from school.  Make sure you iron my pleated tennis
skirt because I am playing tomorrow.  Toodles."

I did not fully understand what I had gotten myself into.  I was to be
the servant of my ex-wife and step-daughter?  It was humiliating.  My
uniform was not something a man would possibly wear.  I know in
Scotland, men wear skirts, but this seemed ridiculous.

I cleaned, dusted, and vacuumed every inch of that condo.  When I was
done, I showered and changed into a comfortable pair of jeans and a T-
Shirt.  It was great to take off my maid's outfit.  Hopefully, Jen
would be impressed with my work.

I must have fallen asleep on the couch because when I woke up—there was
Jen and Courtney standing in front of me.  They both looked real angry.
What had I done?  I thought the house looked spotless...

I asked what was wrong and Jen ranted—"You are never supposed to be seen
without your uniform!  Didn't you read the contract?  You must be
wearing it at all times!  Plus, you forgot to iron Courtney's pleated
skirt!"  I begged for forgiveness—not realizing the severity of my
crimes.

Jen said, "I know the outfit is feminine.  That is the point!  You are
going to become totally feminine.  It will make you a better maid.
Plus, If Courtney and I have boys over, it will make you less
threatening.  Tomorrow, I am taking you to my doctor to start you on
female hormones."  She added, "Courtney will decide your punishment."


That night, I retired to my room, both humiliated and frightened about
what was in store.  I needed to read that maid's contract.

Here is a synopsis of the contract:

1.  I am to work 7 days per week.
2.  I must always wear my uniform and apron.
3.  I must be totally obedient at all times.
4.  I am never to start a conversation without asking permission to speak.
5.  I am not allowed to read, watch television, or listen to the radio.
6.  My name is now Mia instead of Mike.
7.  I am not allowed any possessions other than my uniforms.
8.  I cannot use a cell phone or computer.

Then, in bold type it read-- "Any infraction of the above rules will
result in punishment."

Basically, I was now Jen's property.  She would control my every action
and thought.  Over time, without reading or watching television, I would
lose touch with the outside world.  My life would be to serve and clean
unconditionally.  I would become totally reliant on Jen for everything.
In return, she would have an obedient servant.

The next day, Jen had scheduled my appointment with Dr. Johnson.  After
a thorough check-up, Dr. Johnson prescribed me three different
prescriptions.  I am not sure what they were, but she said that Jen and
Courtney would make sure that I took the pills in the proper dosage.  I
would be experiencing a reduced male sex drive and some itching in the
breast area.  It was scary—but believe me, I had little choice in the
matter.

On the way home, we stopped at the tattoo parlor.  Courtney said it was
time for my punishment.  I thought she had forgotten that I had
neglected to iron her skirt.

Courtney told the tattoo artist, "I want you to give her a 'tramp stamp'
right about her buttocks.  I want it to be flowery and include her new
name - 'Mia'."

Then, for my punishment, I was to have my ears, nose, and tongue
pierced.  Courtney told them to give me a tongue piercing that would be
something to add pleasure when I give other men blowjobs.  They decided
on a three-ball number—which would jingle whenever I spoke.  They said I
would get used to it and my lovers will really love the way it feels...

4 comments:

  1. starting to get good. lucky mia

    ReplyDelete
  2. Nice premise on the story. You may want to consider adding in the incentive to go through this though. There are always choices, no matter how broke you are. Maybe some fat balloon payment after a year of this torture or something?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. What did you mean by fat balloon? Stephanie, I wanna know? Renee Zee.

      Delete
  3. How wonderful. A job that requires total obedience, wearing female type uniform and doing housework to a high standard. What could be better for a sissy male servant

    ReplyDelete