Maid To Order

CHAPTER ONE June in Alabama Like nails falling from the sky, the hammering rain stung what flesh remained unexposed and drenched the clothes that covered the rest of her slight body – all this in a mere five seconds between the taxi and the covered front porch of the sprawling house. With the taxi door slammed shut, the bright yellow vehicle zoomed through the puddle of water so fast that it splashed grey mud against the back of her legs as she made her dashing exit. Her hair in wet ringlets, the girl shook off the excess water and rung out her crocheted hat, which she then stuffed inside her knapsack. She wiped her hands against her skirt and took a deep breath to calm herself. Although it was no time for being nervous, her heart still beat in a painful and uneasy rhythm, while her mind swirled with questions. She should stop now and turn back – the refrain had repeated itself a dozen times in the last hour, the only conscious thought she had. But turn back? How? She was far far from home where this foolish adventure began, and now far from the dilapidated clapboard house where she’d stayed six weeks while she was being processed. A two-day car trip took her south to a small house on the outskirts of an unknown city; then she was shoved into the yellow taxi and driven another twenty-five miles to her final destination. She rang the bell. What else could she do…? But wait. How does one wait for Miles Covington Hitchcock? A stranger? The man who chose her from pictures, from a video Pavel’s friend Nikolai made to sell her on the Internet. How does a man seeking a maid chose one? Mind riddled with crazy thoughts, she nearly bolted into the driving rain, but then the door swung open before her and a tall man appeared; at first like a ghostly presence on this gloomy fog-ridden day, then, as she looked up into his face, he came clearly into focus. Older. Middle-aged. Groomed to be perfect. And handsome – maybe for a woman twice her age. But no time to ponder that now. “Daniela Zito, the agency sent me,” she said, after nearly thirty seconds of awkward silence. This was what they told her to say. *** The girl standing before him looked a bit like a drowned rat. So small, wet, her curly hair dripping, her clothes, yes, her clothes – what was this with her clothes? An odd combination. No. It was more than that, more than just the quirky clothes. This was not the girl he’d seen in the advertisement. That girl was blonde, pretty, dressed like a mannerly young woman, her smile bright and her eyes a sensuously soft blue. This girl was short and dark, her eyes a deep mahogany color. She’d dressed in a tiny blue suede skirt and slutty patterned tights. Her feet were tucked into a pair of grossly large boots. Although she wore a thin, grey, and now very drenched, sweater, it did very little to cover the lacy, low-cut camisole underneath. He supposed it was the current fashion, but he didn’t like it. However, what might have been most distressing, in addition to her darkly lined eyes and purple lipstick, there was a small but very visible nose ring through her septum. “I believe there has been some mistake,” he said in a voice deep enough to carry some weight and make the waiting girl shudder. It took a moment for Daniela to understand this – not that she didn’t understand English well. Her mother had been English and she grew up with the language from birth. However, these words were not what she expected to hear. Not now. “No, sir, no,” she shook her head, “there is no mistake. I belong here, I do. I’m your new maid.” She stuffed her hand inside the pocket of the grey sweater and pulled out a piece of paper, shoving it forward so he could see. “Your name is here and my name. See that? Your address. Right here. Please!” She pointed her finger at what was once crisp blue writing – now a soggy but distinguishable blur. “I am yours.” She paused. “You have to take me.” How boldly she spoke, he thought. Gutsy, if nothing else. But no, she was not the maid, the woman he expected to see. Completely unacceptable! He calmed his stirring anger, letting it simmer for later, when he contacted the agency. But then, what to do with her? he wondered. A cold chill seemed to race through the girl’s body and every bit of her shook with sadness and defeat. Oddly enough, her eyes were still filled with hungering want. He looked around at the day as if it was the first time he’d noted its dreariness. Yes, of course, the weather was grotesque, not that cold but clearly wet and miserable. “May I come in, sir, please,” she pleaded with him, before he could decide on his own to offer her entry. “Yes, of course. Come in and dry off,” he smiled thinly. “Then we’ll clear up this terrible mistake.” “But there has been no mistake,” Daniela Zito shook her head as she moved inside, her clothes still dripping, quickly making a muddy puddle where she stood like a forlorn orphan on the foyer’s smooth checkerboard tile. Miles Covington Hitchcock stared at her, still awed, still wondering, still simmering with anger he tried in vain to mask with civility. The January before in Slovenia… “Daniela!” A sharp thundering noise crackled through the humid air of the butcher shop. No answer. “Dannnnnieellllla!” The barrel-chested voice boomed louder than before, and from the back room behind the counters and coolers, the girl came running. Laszlo’s raised arm came down and smacked across her face, sending the hundred-pound Daniela sprawling on the floor at his feet. Laszlo stared down over his rotund belly, lip curling cruelly, “How you take of my shop reflects on me!” He pounded his chest. “You not scrub these floors, you not scrub these counters, you filthy little b***h; you not do your work. This is what I pay you for, you lazy girl. Get on in the back, I beat you there!” “No, sir, please! Let me explain…” Daniela gazed up glassy-eyed, imploring him, but Laszlo had a stick in hand and swiftly cut her off. He used the stick to prod her along the floor, smacking her flanks, her ass, anything in the path of his weapon, until the girl at last scooted and slid and slithered fifteen feet into the storeroom. The man’s wrath poured out against the girl as he hauled her to her feet and then upended her over a wooden worktable. She hung on knowing that it was useless to fight Laszlo’s rage, so in preparation for what was to follow, she gripped the sides of the table, body cringing. No mere stick would do to punish the bratty girl; Laszlo had a strap for that. Swiping the thick leather tool from the wall, he flung Daniela’s short skirt off her ass, tore her panties down, then wailed on her upturned hind end. The blows never failed to shock her psyche deeply, turn flesh on fire, and produce a raging fury of misguided hormones in her s****l body. The shock of the first stinging smacks threw off any fight her mind might wish to wage. She gathered herself into a cocoon-like altered state, praying for the submissive strength to fall on her like a protective blanket. Only submission would get her through his holy terror. Only submission would produce – in the end – the ticklish thrill that would turn pain into her private pleasure. However, perhaps the private pleasure was not so private anymore. Months before on a similar occasion, Laszlo had spied the pubes between her legs glistening with dew – so he claimed later. In the following week, he’d caught her m**********g in the corner of the storeroom after a particularly brutal session with his strap. Her body oozed then as it did now with the evidence of her rekindled lust. Her fingers were trapped inside her demanding p***y; her lips were parted and her chest heaved with her ragged breath. She looked up just as she was about to come and found herself staring into the butcher’s beady black eyes. His arms were crossed over his chest; his expression was as grim as his stance. But, oh! How his eyes gleamed! Of course, she stopped playing with herself immediately, although she did not remove her hand from between legs. Waiting nervously for him to say something, anything, she was just about to bolt the room, when he said, with more than a hint of lust. “Don’t stop.” His voice had deepened to a throaty growl, and he waved his hand encouragingly before crossing his arms again. Recoiling at the thought of performing for this man, her brown eyes wavered furtively, while her mind worked to extricate her from the humiliating moment. Unwittingly, her fingers replied to the man’s command and moving inside her slick slit again, the question of splitting the scene had been settled. She closed her eyes and came, falling back into the hard brick wall, her head shaking back and forth as hard as her fingers shook her clit. Her heaving belly and the emerging sweat spoke as loudly as the small moan of pleasure that escaped her lips. That day, Laszlo walked away. She believed he was nearly as embarrassed as she was, and he never spoke of the incident again. However, on the occasion of her next punishment, his complaint against her was bogus, some little nitpicking something that would not have been called a crime were it committed by any other of his subservient employees. Since his enormous personality refused to be challenged, Laszlo only employed females, and maybe a few males, who were all by nature submissive. Maybe Daniela was punished more because she had the guts to stand up to him from time to time. Or, perhaps she was punished more because she was young, sexy, and easy to look at. Whatever the reason was, however, her next punishment would change the very nature of her relationship with Laszlo and plunge her more deeply into a subservient role. He’d waited until the rest of his employees were gone for the day and the shop was closed. She was in the outer shop scrubbing floors when she realized that Laszlo was standing over her, just gazing down at first, then nudging her with the toe of his shoe. She shrunk up scared, then realized that he wanted something from her. “Get up! The storeroom now!” The command made her jump to her feet before he could kick her again. Whatever the cause of his latest fury, she automatically ran to the storeroom and assumed the position over the table, waiting for the inevitable strike of his leather strap. When Laszlo sidled up her, he rattled off some offense that made no sense to her. She almost popped up to protest, but then he stepped back and swiftly leveled her with strikes against her naked ass that had her screaming within seconds. Never had she endured a punishment more cruel – or hurried. He rushed for reasons that became obvious when he suddenly finished and his meaty hands began to paw her ass and move between her parted legs. Thick fingers searched the wet valley and he moaned in recognition of her arousal, and his. Although panicked by his behavior, Daniela’s body did not fail to respond in its usual erotic manner following a hard correction. Rather than fight, she froze, or more aptly put, stayed put, wallowing in the feel of the butcher’s surprisingly skilled fingers. His bold play had her at an edge in minutes, although just before she was about to gasp with her release, she heard some shuffling behind her, a zipper going down and then felt the man’s stiff erection lunge deep. He grabbed her hips and thrust, and thrust, and thrust again. Her body was wracked with spasms and coming, her tartish pubis grinding against the table as if this was what she wanted all along. Laszlo came on the heels of her climax, shooting a thick wad of cream into what was soon a sopping wet cunt. “You stay here in my shop, little b***h, this is what you do for me.” This was all that Laszlo said of the incident. His c**k was back inside his pants before Daniela could have a look at it. She stood up and turned around, staring at the man, while at the same time sensing her juices running like a river down her inner leg. Laszlo knew she would have little choice but to submit to him. Her circumstances made it nearly impossible for her to quit this job. Her father dead since she was five years old, her mother a shrewish and miserly laundress. The woman would have no compassion for a girl who didn’t compromise herself; that was what women did to get by. Getting by was all that any woman could expect. Yes, Laszlo knew all this; he’d known Valeska Zito since they were children. He understood her hard life and the hard stance the woman took with a daughter she could barely tolerate. The once vain and beautiful woman had been quite the catch when she was young, but she’d aged prematurely and the death of her husband, an important government official, had thrown her into poverty. She’d made few friends and plenty of enemies in her neighborhood, thus she became an easy victim in their vengeful plots to see her ruined. Without the emotional resources to pull herself from the sad demise, she became bitter and old far before her time, and was soon jealous of her sprite-like daughter who seemed able to rise up untainted by the deep despair that surrounded Valeska like a funeral shroud. Unlike her mother, Daniela felt little despair becoming the butcher’s f**k toy. Perhaps if she’d been forced to kiss him, or make love to his c**k with her lips, or he wanted her to warm his bed, she might have been repulsed, even refused. But as long as he played so artfully with her aroused p***y and took her from behind, kneading his hands in her hot and red striped ass, she could use these sessions for her own pleasure and the rather unconventional thrill of becoming totally docile, meek, and acquiescent…so many words to describe that divine state of being. It was her one great wish to have some sexy young man love her enough to let her be that docile, meek and acquiescent, while taking from her the burdens of her everyday life. She imagined herself a love slave, even though she knew that these were silly thoughts, silly, foolish and even repugnant – if she considered them rationally. She was Laszlo’s f**k toy, willingly. This latest session with the now furious Laszlo and his strap produced a burning far beyond what he usually leveled on her ass. She took in the pain, knowing that he would soon stop and f**k her, and she could depend on those vibrant sensations to fuel the lusty orgasm that would follow. However, the scene ended differently this time. Yes, Laszlo f****d her. His c**k lunged as it had before, deep to the hilt, setting off the orgasm in her groin that made Laszlo’s brutality something to long for. However, the butcher wasn’t satisfied in the way he’d been satisfied in the past. Just as he was reaching his climax, he pulled out, leaving her spirit as much as her body gaping unhappily. He shoved her to her knees while turning her about and stuffed his turgid c**k into her mouth. The shock of it stunned her. She gagged initially and her belly heaved; her revulsion couldn’t have been more obvious. Still, Laszlo f****d her mouth. He raped her mouth. He hung on to her hair and plunged deeper still, repeatedly, even when she was choking and fighting him off with her hands. The fight was useless. All that saved her was the come that quickly filled her mouth and covered her face when he pulled his organ out. “Yes! I like this too, Daniela,” the butcher said when he finished. He tapped his withering erection in her hair to wipe it off. She shook her head. “What? You got a problem?” “Please, no more.” Her eyes filled with tears and she pleaded with the man as she never had before. “Yes. Yes. A whole lot more, little b***h. You’re your mother’s daughter. Now, you clean up. Back on the floor, hands and knees, that mess out there!” He pointed with his free hand; the other was zipping up his trousers. He left her without seeing her tears or feeling her anguish, even though they were both visibly apparent.