The New Neighbour Pt. 09


Working next door as usual, next day, Jennifer invited me into her private parlor for a little chat.

“I discussed your financial ‘issues’ with Mummy yesterday. You may be surprised to learn that she was impressed with your domestic service the other day. She was planning a ladies’ tea-party this week, but unfortunately, her maid has been called away on family business. Mummy suggested that she might be willing to pay you to serve at her function,” said Jennifer.

“Oh, err, well, that sounds possible, Miss,” I replied.

“There’s just one small detail, Peter. Mummy will require you to dress as a lady’s maid.”

“Oh, no Miss, I’m not in to that sort of thing. Not at all!” I spluttered.

Jennifer she slowly crossed her nyloned legs and placed her hand ever so gently on my thigh, sending a most pleasant erotic shock through my body.

“Well… I did tell mummy that I thought you would serve for her. I know this would be asking a lot of you Peter, but I’d be ever so grateful if you’d be Mummy’s maid. As a very special favour to me. Just this once.”

How could I resist!

“Yes Miss, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

She reached over and planted a big wet kiss on my cheek.

“Excellent, Peter. Now, we need to get you prepared, so, if you could be ready for 12.30PM, I’ll drive you into town.”

She stood up and shooed me out of her room.

That afternoon I was taken to a special salon, located on an industrial estate I had not visited before.

I was introduced to Phoebe, the attractive owner, and taken by her, with Jennifer into a large ‘treatment’ room.

“Now Peter, first things first. We need to get rid of all that nasty body hair, don’t we?” said Phoebe, “Take off all your clothes, and lie on the treatment table for me. There’s a good boy.”

Reluctantly, I stripped in front of the two ladies and lay on my back, on the table.

Phoebe then began rubbing depilation cream into my chest, armpits and legs. “He has pretty legs, doesn’t he, Jennifer?”

“Yes, and they’ll look even better when they are smooth,” Replied Jennifer.

Shockingly, Phoebe then leaned forward and began applying the cream to my groin and genitals. I flinched, but she reassured me.

“We need you completely hairless down there, Peter – in case of inspections.”

I was then turned over and the procedure repeated on my bottom and back.

“Into the shower with you! The warm water will wash away all the hair. And, no playing with your pee-pee, you naughty boy!”

I scuttled off to the adjacent shower-room, and followed Phoebe’s instructions; returning after toweling myself dry.

“Excellent. Let’s get you fitted with your maid’s gaziantep escort outfit, Peter.”

I was handed a pair of the most luxurious, sheer-to-waist black pantyhose and helped into them, by Jennifer.

“No knickers for you Peter. We don’t want a visible panty-line do we?” smirked Phoebe, as she handed me a most feminine, flouncy, black satin blouse.

To this she added a rather tight, short, black satin skirt. I managed to struggle into these items, before Phoebe added a white, lacy nylon cap, matching gloves and a frilly white apron, tied at the rear with a big bow.

Jennifer handed me a pair of black, patent-leather, low-heeled shoes to finish my ‘ensemble’.

The ladies had me parade before them and agreed that I’d make a splendid maid.

To my relief, I was allowed to get changed again. Jennifer thanked Phoebe profusely and drove me home, full of trepidation.

That night, I kept telling myself that I shouldn’t turn up on the next day, but my penis betrayed me. I couldn’t help thinking back to that day’s events. I suppose it was the full-on, intimate attention from two gorgeous women, and despite the continual humiliation, the sensual, erotic experience at their hands. I couldn’t help myself. Yet again, I masturbated myself.

As agreed, next day, I was delivered to Phoebe’s salon. She spent a lot of time closely shaving my face and applying layers of makeup. I watched this process in the mirror and was astonished to see the way she was able to project the face of a passable, rather sexy woman onto the features of a dull, middle-aged male.

I was then dressed again and instructed to practice walking, sitting, bending, curtseying and standing with as much feminine grace as possible. Jennifer was highly amused, but at the end, was quite complimentary about my hesitant efforts.

After spending over four hours ‘in transition’, it was time for Jennifer to convey me into her mother’s presence. On the way, she briefed me about the ladies who would be in attendance. Firstly, there was Lady A, the 50-year-old former model and wife of a Baronet. Secondly was Miss B, an ex-headmistress from a top ladies’ private school, in her 60’s. Thirdly was Ms. C, the 48-year-old director for a leading British company and finally, would be TV producer and novelist, Miss D, in her late 30’s.

All of these women were notable feminists, and, in private, advocates of female supremacy, who were personal friends and associates of Mrs. Crawford. If it was possible, I now felt even more nervous!

We arrived at 3.00PM and Mrs. Crawford showed us into her kitchen. To begin with, she totally ignored me, whilst she chatted konya escort casually with her daughter.

Finally, she turned to me, looked me up and down and said to Jennifer, “Not bad for a first effort darling. Phoebe is so talented, isn’t she!?”. She then addressed me, “Today Peter, you are to take on the role as ‘Petra’, my pretty, personal maid. You will serve tea to our guests, with the utmost feminine charm, respect and reverence. Any of their requests will be obeyed, without question. Do you understand?”.

It was all I could do to answer “Yes madam.”

Jennifer took some photos of me on her phone, gave me an encouraging smile and took her leave.

Mrs. Crawford then began my training in earnest. Paying particular attention to my curtseying, and instilling the importance of keeping my eyes lowered, unless otherwise instructed.

Although titled as a ‘tea-party’, the ladies would in fact be drinking fine wines and eating canapes. I was instructed to open several bottles of expensive looking Chablis, Alsace and white Burgundy and place them in a huge silver wine container, topped up with ice.

Mrs. Crawford showed me the servant’s ‘message’ panel in the kitchen and pointed to the buzzer for the drawing room which would light up when she required me. I was then left alone.

Her guests arrived shortly afterwards and Mrs. Crawford greeted them herself. Twenty minutes later, the buzzer summoned me.

As instructed, I grabbed two plates of canapes and made my way to the drawing room. Keeping my eyes down as I entered, I could nevertheless, see five pairs of shapely legs, standing on expensive high heels. I approached each guest, curtseyed and offered up the canapes. They seemed to ignore my presence, other than to take one or two of the proffered delicacies.

After I had completed the circuit, Mrs. Crawford made an announcement: “Ladies, this is my new temporary maid, Petra. Isn’t she delightful?”

“Petra dear, you can look up now and let our guests see you properly.”

I lifted my gaze and looking around hesitantly, took in the exquisitely dressed alpha females before me. One had her back towards me. Slowly, she turned around with a wide grin on her face.

Oh my god. Ms. C – I should have guessed, it was my wife, Caroline!

“Yes, Mrs. Crawford, she is very pretty, and so obedient!” said my wife to the host, (clearly knowing full-well who I was, but talking about me as though I was a performing animal.)

Mrs. Crawford replied, “Thank you Caroline, I thought you might be impressed. Of course, it has taken quite some effort to train her. Eyes down again Petra!” she ordered.

“Phoebe has kayseri escort done such a good job. I am informed that her pubis has been fully shaved for inspection. (Apparently she has a very large clitoris!)”

There was much giggling from the ladies and only the heavy makeup disguised my deep blush.

“Lift your skirt and show the ladies, Petra,” insisted Mrs. Crawford.

With utter humiliation, I lifted the hems of my apron and satin skirt.

“Higher, Petra. Right up to your waist dear!” prompted the host.

I lifted the flimsy material high, revealing my small, soft, hairless genitals, masked only by the sheer black pantyhose.

“See what a lovely big clit she has girls! It looks almost as big as a boy’s penis!” she mocked, “Go to each of our guests, Petra and let them inspect you.”

Holding up my skirt, I offered my inadequate, feminized genitalia for their delectation. Lady A was first to finger me through the nylon covering. “Oh goodness, it’s stirring! Look ladies!”

They gathered round and one by one teased me with their experienced hands. Despite the utter humiliation, I couldn’t prevent my little cock from fully erecting in front of them.

“What a disgusting performance” said Miss B, the former headmistress, “She obviously requires much training in the art of self-control.”

I was on the verge of ejaculation, when Miss D spoke up. “Leave her with me ladies, I know her type very well. If you’ll permit me Mrs. Crawford, I’ll deal with Petra myself.”

“What a delightful suggestion, Fiona. I feel sure that Petra will respond to your particular management style.”

The ladies burst out laughing at my expense as Miss D took a small vibrator from her purse and proceeded to pleasure my penis. It was not long before I was brought to a shuddering, involuntary climax. To my shame, in clear view of these mocking women, my sperm was soaking through the sheer pantyhose, and dripping down my legs.

“Tut-tut, Petra. You had better drop your skirt and carry on with your duties. Leave that filthy mess to dry, collect the plates and go through to the kitchen to wash the dishes.”

Shamefaced and uncomfortable, I obeyed, with a curtsey.

On the kitchen table was an envelope, marked ‘Petra’. I opened it to find five crisp, twenty-pound notes.

Having attended to the dishes, I sat alone in the kitchen for over an hour, contemplating the desperate, but maddingly erotic situation I had now arrived at. Clearly, I now had nowhere to hide my perversions and proclivities. Unless I was prepared to leave my wife (and, no doubt my house and pension), I would be at the mercy of these women.

I was shaken from my reverie by Jennifer, who had returned to collect me.

She drove me to Phoebe’s salon, where I was ‘de-frocked’, showered and returned, (as close as was possible), to my normal male appearance. Unsurprisingly, both Phoebe and Jennifer took every opportunity to tease me about my stained pantyhose.

Finally, I was taken home, to wait for my wife.

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