Well it was another Monday morning. What a difference this one was from last week's. Last week there was no Valerie in the Burke house, no young woman on the verge of a major life change. In fact, before this Friday night, just two days ago, Valerie had seen herself as just another guest at one of her bosses Friday night parties. She had high hopes, and that was for sure, but she never dreamed, not once in her wildest fantasies how events would unfold. She had certainly gotten a lot more attention from Marcus, her boss and before Friday night her dream lover, than she'd imagined. Since Friday night she'd gone to bed, surrendered her virginity, been, or rather portrayed herself as a maid, and been thoroughly loved. As to whether she'd been loved or manipulated, that was still not something she fully understood.
Marcus, Mr. Burke, had certainly paid her gobs of attention, but he seemed like a strange one in some ways. He'd definitely invited her to his house, but once there she'd been reduced to playing maidservant, a role that, prior to Friday, would have been completely out of her world-view. She still wasn't exactly sure how she'd been maneuvered into that one. It had something to do with her high hopes and fantasies, her own loneliness, and the supplications of two very sweet ladies, not to mention the blandishments of a very interesting man. At any rate she'd had her life engineered in ways she never dreamed possible. If someone had asked her last week about her being a maidservant she'd have laughed in his or her face. Yet she had not only played the maid, but had played the maid three times, once at an evening meal, then a noon time meal, and then again at another evening meal. She especially remembered the second evening meal. The outfit had been absolutely the most uncomfortable apparel she'd ever worn, black maid's dress, stiff peter-pan collar, equally inelastic cuffs, brilliantly tight white apron with a ridiculously large bow in the back, and cruelly tight black patent leather shoes. She was sure, thinking back on it, that it was deliberately intended to be that way. None the less, she'd hung in, but only to make a minor missive that almost exploded into a major crisis, not once but twice. She'd been tired at the second late meal, and had emitted a soft but discernible sigh. One of the guests made an issue of it, and Marcus didn't let it go. He had abruptly dismissed her that evening, and the next morning had offered to punish her with a spanking. The offer of a spanking escalated into a minor crisis, at least she thought so, and it wasn't resolved, if it had been resolved, until later in the day at a romantic spot by a stream. Regardless, Sunday had seen her rewarded with a nice horseback ride, a romantic interlude beside a creek and a sailboat ride. Regrettably the day ended with food poisoning. She'd nibbled on some bad caviar set aside to be trashed. She supposed she could complain that the caviar shouldn't have been left out for anyone to see, but no one made her try it. Now here she was. It was Monday morning, and she was as sick as all get out. Sick with food poisoning. Marcus had stayed with her all night and had taken care of her. She loved Marcus, loved him like nothing anyone could imagine, and she knew he cared about her, loved her even. Still there was a kind of opacity to Marcus. She remembered when she was a little girl she had an old dog. She remembered how her dad would look at that old dog in a funny kind of way, like he was trying to decide whether to keep feeding it or shoot it. That's how Marcus looked at her sometimes.
Marcus came into the bedroom. "Good morning little darling. How do we feel this morning?"
Valerie yawned and answered. "Sore. I don't feel good."
"Well you'll have to get up in a little while." That was his first response. "Dr. McCall agreed to see us at 11:00. He said if we got there then he wouldn't make us wait."
Valerie replied. "What time is it now? I don't know that I need to go to a doctor."
Marcus interrupted her. "Yes you do little girl. Food poisoning isn't something you play around with."
Valerie yawned again. "So how much time do I have?"
Marcus smiled. It's 9:00 now, and we'll need about twenty minutes to get there. Don't worry about cleaning up. Just rinse off a little. I put a new toothbrush out for you. It's the red one. There are some pajamas in the bathroom. They're your size I hope. You can wear those."
Valerie got serious. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
He quipped. "I'm not being nice. You'll probably get a needle, and I bet it'll hurt." Then he did get serious. "Anyway. I like being nice to you." He leaned over and very gently fluffed the hair on her head. He put his face close to hers, their lips almost touching. "You're my little sparrow." Then he acted like he was lightening up again, but she couldn't be sure if he were kidding or serious. "Besides. You're going to be my sexy litttle maid."
She evinced a little laugh, a slightly nervous little laugh. "OK."
They went to the doctor's. Shots were administered, prescriptions written, and instructions meted out. Among those instructions was the admonition there be a minimum of seven to ten days rest and quiet. No excitement, no real activity, and lots of sleep and bed rest.
Valerie found herself the guest of the man who'd deflowered and launched her on a path of domestic service. A paradoxical circumstance to be sure, her hero, lover, employer, companion and potential life partner was also the font of her gradual abasement. Valerie, rising corporate star was at home with the man whose ambition was to convert her to maid, sexual serving girl, and common scullery. Will she be able to rise above the subliminal suggestions, the covert insinuations, and subconscious suppositions and bring her lover, her idol to bay. Or will she succumb to the soft insinuations of warm hearted staff, the seductive soft poetic sing song voices of nondescript onlookers, the gentle loving embraces of a man whose plan was nothing less than her sweet subjection, her total emotional spiritual submersion into his personal fantasy.
For seven days from Monday through Sunday, Valerie found herself surrounded by a cast of loving caring and controlling cooks, maids, cleaners, and of course, her omnipresent lover and prospective puppeteer. Every whim, every desire, every wish, as long as it didn't require her to leave Mr. Burke's, now her, bedroom, was granted. She was bathed, scented, clothed, cherished and coddled. No woman not even the most favored darling in the richest sultan's seraglio, received the attention and care on such a scale as Valerie.
A masseuse visited every day. Morning and evening supple hands plied and kneaded soft muscles, and smoothed aching calves. To Valerie's secret wonderment ways were found to discreetly intrude into those special feminine places where the slightest touch evoked the most pleasurable sensations and the secretion of warm sticky womanly juices. Special feminine secretions that invariably induced a moist sponginess that became a constant reminder of her ever-present physical, carnal, needs.
An in house dietitian brought her menus with lists of foods she'd never dreamed existed. Now she got to taste the Beluga caviar she'd dreamed about. Now came the soft breads, rich heavily iced pastries, scrumptious berry muffins she'd, till now, only considered the most outlandish luxuries. House personnel thrilled her pallet with sweet tea in the morning, honeyed milk for lunch, and the most divine ambrosias and nectars, in the evening. Assistants surrounded her, plying her with tasty treats, herbal delights, and wondrous delicacies beyond the imagination. Weight, body fat became secondary concerns, full recovery required calories.
She had her own personal hairdresser who twice daily brushed, combed, and groomed her gorgeous locks. Her hair was curled, trimmed, thinned, beribboned, and pampered beyond recognition. A stylist decorated her face with mascara, eyeliner, lip-gloss, and pink blush for her cheeks. In the mirror Valerie disappeared, and another person, a youngish, soft, sweet adorable childlike angel emerged. Valerie watched as almost daily she saw the prim businesswoman slowly suffused into a new image. Another visage slowly emerged, the woman, the adult, was being eroded, being supplanted by something new, something different, a child, a young child, a cherub. Still others saw to her feet and hands. Clear polish decorated fingernails on hands destined to never touch anything harsh or abrasive again. A dermatologist guaranteed her flesh remained soft and malleable by washing her delicate skin with the most gentle of aloes and herbs guaranteeing a constant veneer, a gentle sheen that brightened her flesh like she was a freshly blossomed flower.
Owing to her feverish condition those first days her hours were filled with oral readings. A librarian was called in read to her as a means to while away the hours of inactivity. The stories all had a consistent theme, the strong caring man, the weak dependent woman, dominance and deference, mastery and submission. Her reader had a soft melodic voice that intoned to her beautiful tales that all always entailed voluntary womanly subservience. They were beautiful stories, stories that offered love, security, and comfort. And always there were her two ladies, a persistence presence, there to remind her of her hero, her idol, her God, the deity who was dedicating his every waking moment to her happiness, full recovery, and future well being.
