Hands on the Sofa, Lacy

CHAPTER FOUR

Today - Sunday, 4:47 PM

They were not in the dining room. Empty plates and the mostly finished bottle of wine were all that was left. Lacy knew it was her job to clear the table. She was the maid, after all. A maid's job was to clear the table.

She could hear them from the den:

...laughing...

...talking...

...about me?

Her heels clicked on the wooden floor as she swished her way down the hall. She dared not delay, not with Tricia's threat still looming over her like a guillotine.

At least the study door was open and there was no need to knock.

"Yes, Miss Sellers?"

She stood just inside the door, as unobtrusive and invisible as she could make herself. Their eyes instantly swung to her. Her eyes sparkled with amusement and his were filled with...

...hunger?

Mr. Goodwin was looking at Lacy as if she were a sweet dessert.

There was no mistaking that look.

...lust...

There was no other word to describe that leer. He was taking in every inch of her body and committing it to memory.

Lacy shivered, feeling her cool skin prick with gooseflesh.

Mr. Goodwin knew that Lacy was not really female...

...and apparently he doesn't care...

"About time you got in here," Tricia smiled. She sat confidently, her long legs crossed like a movie star. "We were just talking about you. I believe we have some unfinished business to attend to."

The shallow breath that the corset allowed, quickened.

Lacy closed her eyes and nodded.

The entire time she sat out on the patio, a single thought kept resurfacing into her brain.

Across his lap.

Across a man's lap.

Being spanked across a man's lap.

I'm going to be spanked while across a man's lap!

Beneath her petticoats, her erection throbbed.

Deep in her chest, anxiety threatened to bring her down to her knees.

Does this really arouse me that much?

Do I WANT to be spanked by Mr. Goodwin?

Oh, God, yes!

Stop it, you damn slut! I'm not gay!

Yet, that image in her head; her delicate figure helpless across his lap; Her skirts up; his hand back on her ass...

She could still feel the places where that hand had touched her earlier.

What had been a revolting and mortifying experience at the time was now an overly erotic memory to the horny maid's mind.

Inside her brain, Mark screamed. This was not supposed to be happening and it certainly was not supposed to be arousing. He was a guy and there was absolutely no way that he was gay! He did not find men appealing in any way, and he did not want anything to do with them sexually. He found the entire idea absolutely revolting.

Lacy on the other hand...

Lacy was...

...wet...

...dripping...

Just the thought of this tall, handsome stranger taking advantage of her, made the inner Bimbo-Slut almost drool with anticipation.

"You will be happy to know," Tricia said, "...that Mr. Goodwin has declined my offer of disciplining you."

"Oh."

Lacy's pink, glittery lips parted in surprise.

He doesn't want to spank me?

Relief from Mark flooded her brain. At the same time, all Lacy felt was...

...regret?

"I, on the other hand, have no such hesitation."

Lacy's eyes widened. Tricia was going to spank her again. This time in front of company.

In front of HIM!

Her knees went wobbly.

"Please put your hands on the back of the sofa. I believe ten will be suitable for your earlier behavior."

Lacy's entire body began to shiver. She was going to be beaten...

...right here...

...in front of Mr. Goodwin.

The abject terror that seemed to permanently surround her deepened, even as her arousal became more intense.

What the fuck is arousing about this?

Mark fled for the hills, leaving Lacy to take her punishment. Fantasy aside, even she was beginning to get a little concerned.

This is getting serious!

She was being humiliated, degraded and now beaten...

...and I've never been hornier in my life.

She hated spankings and did anything to avoid them. She HATED them. The pain and humiliation didn't do anything for her at all.

And yet...

...the Bimbo-Slut shivered with anticipation.

The inside front of her petticoats were now sopping wet. She felt light-headed, partly from the corset, but also from the massive amount of blood flowing down to her crotch.

"Please, Miss Sellers... I'm so sorry."

Tricia smiled at that.

"I know you are, Lacy. Now hurry up. We have other things to do today."

Tricia stood and moved around behind the sofa. This was absolutely no joke. Lacy nibbled her lower lip with anxiety. Her Mistress was going to spank her again. Last time, she had been caught off guard. This time, she had to present herself for what she knew was coming.

Somehow, knowing what was coming made it infinitely worse.

As if in a dream, she found herself walking behind the sofa. She found herself back to where she so foolishly removed her gaff. She wished she could go back in time and take that one moment back.

She almost laughed at herself. She really WAS a bimbo. If she was going to go back in time, why not go further and stop this whole thing from the start.

Nine Months Ago - Sunday, 2:34 PM

"I hate to see you this way, baby."

...baby...

He hated when she called him baby.

Well, maybe when we're playing the little dress up games its ok...

Most of the time it just made him feel like less of a man.

"I hate being this way. I need to find a job, Trish. I'm going crazy here."

She took his hands, still sitting in her chair. It felt odd. He was standing in front of her, holding her hands, while she sat in front of him. Despite standing over her, for some reason he felt she had the power and the control. It made him feel small and helpless.

"Mark. You know what the job market is like out there. You sent out resumes. You've done what you can. Besides..." she smiled and kissed one of his hands, "...we're doing ok."

...doing ok... I hate this so much...

They WERE doing ok. Her salary was supporting both of them and he was stuck sitting around the house all day with nothing to do and with no real purpose in life.

"I want to pull my weight, Tricia. I NEED to pull my weight."

Laughing, she pulled on his hands and he found himself stumbling over into her lap. He resisted, but she out maneuvered him. As he plopped down, he blinked, confusion filling his head. He was sitting across his wife's lap. She pulled him onto her lap. He felt

incredibly uncomfortable. It made him feel even smaller and more child-like. It was not a good feeling.

"You barely weigh anything..." she said. He was not sure whether she was talking about his last statement or his slim frame resting across her legs. "If you're really interested in pulling your weight, I'm sure we can figure something out."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know. I don't suppose I could convince you to be my live-in maid."

Her smile was devious. Instantly the foolishness of sitting on her lap became arousing and naughty. She was playing with him. The game had somehow started back.

"Only if you treat me like one."

He laughed.

Even as he said it, he felt his face blush bright crimson with the embarrassment of the very real fantasy.

Did I really just say that? I sound like such a....

...slut...

"I don't suppose a maid's salary would be good enough for you though, would it?"

He pursed his lips. She had blurred the maid fantasy with the real conversation and the fantasy died on impact.

Of course a maid salary won't be any good. Is she daft?

Tricia was making a killing at work and he had to make at LEAST as much as her. If he could not do that, what kind of man would that make him? What kind of man was unable to take care of his wife? Unable to provide and to support her?

He tried to get up off her lap and she held him there. Her hand was surprisingly strong and tight around his wrist. He was dismayed and more than a little shocked at how easily she held him there.

"I suppose a good maid might make more than minimum wage, especially if she were to think about some extracurricular duties."

Like a rocket, his arousal shot back up.

The way she said that...

...so naughty and filled with double meaning...

Her hand drifted to his lap and slid inside the waistline of his pants.

"I see the idea of a little extra work doesn't completely disinterest you..."

Her hand was in his pants, but still outside of the panties.

MY panties.

He still could not believe she had burned all of his male underwear.

He complained for weeks that the girlie games they were playing were distracting him at work. One night he had complained a little too long and too loud.

In a frenetic whirlwind, she gathered all his male underwear and burned them in the fireplace. One right after another was tossed into the flames, right in front of him. She even made him burn the last pair himself.

He wore panties ever since.

His panties.

He was not sneaking around to try on hers anymore.

He was wearing panties that she bought FOR him.

My panties.

It was only two weeks later that the axe came down at work. It was not related to the underwear, just simple cutbacks. With no job and no excuse to dress more masculine, he felt himself slipping more and more into naughtier and naughtier styles of panties that Tricia seemed to be providing more and more regularly.

Her hand was rubbing him through a slinky pair even now.

He was wearing his nylon boyshorts today. They were a soft purple color and made him weak in the knees when he first put them on.

Her hand felt heavenly through the material.

"So, if we find some extra work for the new maid, she'd be interested?"

He moaned as her thumb found his sensitive spot.

"I'll take that as a yes," she laughed, "What do you say we order the new maid an appropriate outfit tonight?"

He moaned again.

Her hand, combined with the instant mental image of an overly-sexualized maid outfit made him close to the point of no return.

"Perhaps she can start next week..."

Mark moaned again, fighting back an orgasm. How could she get him this aroused, this quickly? It did not seem possible. His legs spread without conscious thought. At least this took his mind off unemployment. A little sexual diversion might be just what the Doctor ordered.