The Rich Man's Maid

A Maid's First Day

"You will start today. I will watch you. Criticize how you are doing things. I will aid you to show you how to do the cleaning properly. I have quite a few expensive items in this house that I don't want broken. Some places in this house are off limits to you. Stay here. I'm notifying my partner."

I sat there, waiting for him to return. When he does, I pull myself to my feet.

"Follow me," he says, looking directly into my eyes. His cold stare sends shivers down my spine. He walks quickly to a small closet next to the bathroom in which he bathed me.

"This is where all your cleaning supplies will be," he instructs, opening the door. Each shelf within the closet was organized by the room it would be cleaning. They were even labeled. He explains to me that my first week or two will be easy for they would be filled with tasks such as sweeping, dusting, and loading his dishwasher. Eventually, I would have to vacuum, clean the entire bathroom, and do his laundry as well.

He led me back to the kitchen, holding my hand the entire time. He explained where everything was in there as well. The plates on the left, bowls and cups in the middles, and Tupperware and other miscellaneous items to the extreme left. In the floor cabinets that had the beautiful counter tops on top of them, there were pots and pans of all different sizes that he expected me to use at some point in the near future.

"I'm going to help you prepare lunch, and then I'll watch you make dinner and guide where I see fit," he starts, "Lunch today will be a Caprese sandwich with charred asparagus and a small fruit salad using the leftovers from this morning. It's not a difficult meal to prepare."

"Even though I've never really cooked before?" I ask him curiously.

"Even though you've never really cooked before," he says, restating my question as a statement. He chuckles a little, smiling and shaking his head from side-to-side. I smirk back him, hoping to satisfy him slightly. He reaches out for my head again. I take it cautiously, and he leads me into the bedroom I slept in last night.

"I'm going to go grab your uniform from my room. Stay here and get undressed."

"Okay, I submit to his words. He leaves the room, and I start taking the silk pajamas off. Soon, I stand there naked. A full-length mirror stands in the corner. I become curious as to what I look like after two years on the streets. I walk over to it, completely exposed.

My breasts were much smaller that they were; they had lost the fullness they once had and that I paraded around in low cut shirts. My ribs were very prominent. My hip bones stuck out sharply from my abdomen. My legs now had a large thigh gap; I had never had a thigh gap before. My eyes had sunken in, surrounded by deep, dark circles. My hair, although having been cleaned yesterday, still appeared fairly ratty. My cheekbones and jaw were also incredibly strong features of my face. My eyebrows have gotten out of control, desperately needing a good plucking or waxing. My pores have become extremely enlarged, due to the years without washing my face sufficiently.

In the middle of my trance, he enters the room. I don't notice him. I'm still profoundly entranced in the way I look. My legs, armpits, and pussy were all a forest. I needed to shave. I hear him clear his throat from behind me. I jump a little, blinking rapidly to remove myself from my daze.

"Sorry," I mumble, turning to face him, but keeping my head down in a form of submission.

"What were you looking at?" he asks, making his way over to me to lift my chin up.

"I was looking at how much I've changed, at how much I need to shave, and how much I need a facial," I say, chuckling at the last bit.

"That can all be arranged," he says to me, shrugging his shoulders. His eyes trace over every inch of my body.