Olga Hemming listlessly entered through the servant's entrance of the next mansion, her third today. Just to make ends meet, she had to add this one to her list of places where she was hired as an assistant cleaner. The rather snooty butler showed her where the cleaning supplies were, and the head housekeeper took her in tow, showing her what needed to be done.
She was tired. This seemed to be her perpetual state of body these days. Tired when she got up, tired when she trudged from home to home, tired as she worked, tired when she went to bed. Her job did have a benefit, though. Wherever she was working at lunchtime, the staff included her in sharing the food. There was always plenty of it, and it was a lot more delicious than anything she could afford by herself. Those meals supplemented her income, in a way.
Also, when she was dusting or vacuuming, she couldn't help but admire the lovely furniture, draperies, fixtures and art, tastefully chosen by top interior designers for these homes. Occasionally, Olga even wondered if the serving maids were also chosen by those designers. They were certainly picturesque enough, in their outfits apparently designed to reveal almost as much as they concealed. Sometimes a maid would bend over as she dusted, and, depending on which direction the maid was facing, treat Olga either to a view of minute, frilly panties, or of two generous breasts threatening to pop out of her low-cut top with her next deep inhalation. Olga was especially susceptible to these events, because early on in her life she discovered that she was truly attracted to women, rather than men.
Therefore, Olga couldn't help but feel envious of the people that owned those mansions. "Those people seem to have everything that a person could want, and act as if they had some divine right to that lifestyle," she thought. "Why should they have all those lovely things, and have those beautiful women at their beck and call, day and night? Life seems so unfair, I could weep, if I had the strength."
One bright spot in her life was the weekly lottery drawing. Olga wasn't a stupid woman. As she bought her one extravagance each week - a single ticket to the MegaPowerball drawing, she acknowledged to herself, "I know the odds of winning the big jackpot are billions to one. But still, once in a while I win enough to buy a new article of clothing, or have a nice meal on my own. The tiny outlay is good for my self-esteem, overall. And my heart beats a little faster each time I watch the numbers being drawn on television."
And so her life continued. She didn't always clean the same three mansions. Sometimes one of them might not have work that week, but the owners knew how she depended on her work. Often, they were kind enough to have one of their friends give Olga some work. One particular home fascinated her. Its artwork. At first, it shocked and disgusted her, mainly because she'd never seen such images before. They weren't crystal clear photographs, at least not in the more public areas of the house. They were intricate paintings, depicting women that were naked and bound!
Olga had never heard of 'shibari' - the Japanese art of erotic bondage, and at first glance, she didn't like it. Seeing women trussed up resembling string being tied around a roast... well... it just looked obscene. She quickly averted her eyes. But the images kept lurking in her peripheral vision. Tormenting her at first. Then that turned into teasing. And finally, tantalizing. After all, the women in the images didn't look distressed. They actually looked serene! "Can they actually be enjoying that?" she asked herself. It gave her food for thought, at least.
When she had to do the bedrooms, she saw actual framed photographs on the wall. These women were also naked, but the poses were very different. Ropes were in use, but these ropes tied them to chairs, benches, and tables in ways that exposed their sex to view, implying sexual use. Some were wearing leather cuffs at their wrists and/or ankles and chains ran from the cuffs to wooden frames, crosses, or rings set in the wall. One woman was staring defiantly right into the camera and holding a leather strap or belt in her teeth. Olga shivered, because that expression conveyed 'you can use this on me, but you cannot make me beg for mercy' in a silent manner.
Since on all the images, Olga's eyes had been darting from the nude tits to asses to legs to pussies to the manner of the restraints, she hadn't been focused on their faces. This picture, though, demanded that she look hard at the woman's face. Her jaw dropped when she recognized that this woman was the downstairs maid, Francesca! She went back to the other pictures. The same woman appeared in a few, but so did the two women that worked in the kitchen! The few remaining pictures either didn't show the woman's face, or were women she didn't know.
When Olga left that house to start her walk home, her mind was reeling. She was still debating if the women were enjoying what was being done to them, or somehow coerced into it. The problem was, the more she brought those images to mind, the faster she breathed, and felt her heart beat quicken with what felt like arousal. About three quarters of the way home, she felt wetness on her inner thighs, and blushed, hoping no one would notice either that wetness, or the scent it carried.
When she got home, she stripped off her now sodden panties, intending to put on a dry pair. But somehow, her fingers ended up playing with her pussy lips! She couldn't stop there, either. After several minutes of caressing those gradually swelling lips, her naughty fingers slipped inside her pussy. She gasped out loud at how hot and wet she'd become! Keeping her fingers busy inside herself, she staggered to her bed, flopped onto her back, and drove herself to not one, but two, highly satisfying orgasms!
Afterward, she felt somewhat ashamed. "Am I some sort of pervert?" she whispered aloud, needing to hear the question. "Seeing those women tied up like that? Imagining how they might possibly have been used, if at all?" But even though she felt ashamed, she was also driven by some heretofore undiscovered need. After she got another small lottery win, heart pounding, she slipped into an adult book store and bought some magazines, plus a story book on bondage, since her interest was now piqued. She didn't make eye contact with the sales clerk as she paid, and was glad he put her purchases into a brown paper bag before she hurried from the store.
Once she was home, she devoured the pictures in the magazines, eyes huge as she studied the images. Suddenly, her life seemed less dreary, and she felt a lot less tired. She got out the story book. In it, several women were being tied up in ingenious, well-described ways, and having things done to their bodies that made Olga shiver, shudder, and hyperventilate. She could only read about one chapter an evening, because she'd get so worked up that she had to stop and play with herself until she sank into a deep sleep. Even her dreams became about bondage.
A week or two later, she had another small win in the lottery. She took the extra money into an Internet Cafe. She'd heard that people could rent the computers there for some time online. She sat there, a little perplexed on how to begin. A pleasant young woman, perhaps of college age, noticed her confusion, and came over.
"Hi, I'm Linda," she said, introducing herself. "Are you having trouble? Can I help?"
Olga felt silly, not knowing how to use this technology, but she was grateful for Linda's offer. "Hi, Linda. I'm Olga. And to be honest, I've never had a computer, so I don't know how to get information off the Internet."
"Oh, no worries. We all had a first time. It's rather simple," Linda told her. Patiently, she explained what a web browser was, and how to start one up. "Now right here we can enter a word or phrase that indicates what we're trying to find," she said, pointing at the screen. "What should we enter?"
