BayernBeatdown
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Feb 27, 2014
- Messages
- 60
- Points
- 6
It should go without saying, but answering a help wanted ad can sometimes have unforeseen consequences. All I wanted to do was make some cash to help offset my college tuition, instead I got wrapped up in a world I had no idea existed.
My name is Julia, although my friends mostly call me Jules. I was about your average 19-year-old college freshman, shoulder length blonde hair, 5-7 and an hourglass frame. Growing up in the country, I wasn't afraid of getting my hands dirty so I thought becoming a maid would be perfect. I could help out people keeping their houses clean and make some decent bucks since not many people would want to.
I started looking at websites which help people like me connect with prospective clients. This seemed like a solid plan, and I sure as hell wasn't going to look on Craigslist.
After a few days of searching, I stumbled upon Antonia. She was a 39-year-old private chef who specialized in Italian cooking, my favorite. We exchanged e-mails and terms of my employment including a salary of $17/hour. I felt bad charging that much but figured she could afford it.
Antonia suggested I come over around 9 a.m. Tuesday. She'd show me her house and what would need doing. I'd likely work until 5 p.m., at which time she'd cook me dinner as a get-to-know-you gesture. Anyone who's ever been in college can attest, never turn down free food especially after a long days work. Plus, how many chances do you get cooked dinner by a professional chef.
On the chosen day, I arrived 15 minutes early not wanting to leave a bad first impression.
“Hello,” Antonia said as she opened the door to her house, which was closer to a mansion. “You must be Julia,”
“Yep, it's great to finally meet you,” I said admiring her beauty. She was dressed in a chef's coat and work pants which, intentionally or not, clung to her voluptuous frame which was itself draped in her chestnut hair. “Shall we get started?”
“Why not, I have to be at the restaurant in 30 minutes anyway,” Antonia said. “I have to say I'm a bit disappointed you're not wearing the traditional French maid outfit.”
She quickly poked my sides in a playful manner as I tried not to let her see me blush while I jumped from the surprise tickle. “Oh I figured this was far more appropriate attire for cleaning,” I said in my over-sized grey t-shirt and black sweatpants.
“Well, a possible change for the future maybe,” She said smiling, poking me again causing me to giggle and squirm even more.
She then showed me around the house, what needed cleaning and how to use her washer and dryer along with a few other items. Antonia also mentioned if I want to take a break and work a bit longer I was free to enjoy her pool.
One place which caught my eye was the basement, which the door down to it was locked.
“Am I not supposed to clean down there?” I asked politely.
Antonia got a bit flustered before saying “Oh no need, nothing down there but some junk of mine. I hardly ever use it so why waste time on it.”
It seemed a little odd but I didn't think too much about it. Antonia drove off to work and I spent the next several hours doing laundry, washing dishing and a whole host of other things. Once 5 o'clock hit and with Antonia not home I figured I'd earned a nice dip in the pool to cool off.
My clothes were covered in sweat so I thought why not wash them in the final laundry load of the day and just go skinny dipping seeing as I didn't have a bathing suit here or anything. I slipped off my tee and sweats before removing my turquoise bra and panties before wrapping myself in a towel and heading to the pool while the clothes wash.
It being a steamy summer night, putting my toes in the water felt amazing. Soon I went in all the way and just lounged about not paying attention to the time so I didn't notice when Antonia arrived home.
“Having fun I see. I rather like this new uniform of yours even more than the French one,” she said snickering as my ample DD's where bobbing at the top of the water in my birthday suit.
“EEEE,” I screamed terribly embarrassed from my over exposure. “I...uh...didn't have a suit so I figured this would be fine while my clothes dried. I'm terribly sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry over. I've been to plenty of spas before with naked women and if they all looked like you I'd probably go more often,” Antonia chuckled enjoying my embarrassment. “I brought home some fettuccine alfredo from the restaurant if you'd like to join me for dinner.”
She then handed me my towel, I dried off before retrieving my clothes and heading to the dining room. We enjoyed some nice conversation over probably the best fettuccine alfredo I ever had in my life. I told her what I'd gotten done and she spoke of the excitement of running her own restaurant.
I couldn't believe it when I looked at the clock, it was almost midnight. I thanked Antonia for the dinner and told her I really should be going.
“Nonsense,” she said. “I was going to see if you could come back tomorrow at 9 a.m. Anyway so why don't you just stay in my guest room. It really wouldn't be a bother and it's nice to have company. I'll make Belgian waffles for breakfast!”
I was going to decline but the idea of Belgian waffles was too hard to resist, so I reluctantly agreed.
The guestroom was better than my apartment for sure, almost as large as it too. There was a huge four-post king-size bed that was like sleeping on clouds. The room itself was decorated like a little slice of Italy with pictures of pasta and bread everywhere. She had obviously spent a ton of time and money at Hobby Lobby.
After a quick shower I put on my over-sized t-shirt as a makeshift nightgown, granted half my ass was showing but I mean really, who was going to see me in nothing but this t-shirt anyway.
I crawled into the bed and was asleep in no time at all.
Sometime later that night, I woke up on my back which was incredibly strange since I always sleep on my stomach. What made me worried was I couldn't move my arms or legs, I was completely immobile. Fearing the worst, I yelled out to Antonia thinking some burglar had some in during the night. If only it had been that.
Seconds after my frantic cry for help, Antonia walked into the room. I should have been relieved but the look in her eye scared me far more than being tied up.
“I'm glad you're finally awake, I was worried we wouldn't get to enjoy ourselves tonight,” she said looking me over like I was a giant New York strip steak. She pulled back the covers and as I expected I was tied spread eagle to the bed.
“Why are you doing this, what do you want,” I worriedly yelled.
“The answer to your questions are simple...I want to tickle you,” Antonia said with an evil grin on her face.
“Tickle me!!!” I screamed knowing how deathly ticklish I was. “What the hell is wrong with you.”
“Nothing's wrong with me Julia,” she said calmly. “I just happen to have a particular fetish in which I adore the sound of a woman's laugh.”
It was then Antonia began to run her nails up and down my soles at the foot of the bed causing me to giggle and squirm.
“I knew right away when I gave you my little tickle test when we first met we'd get along famously,” Antonia said as she continued to tickle my soles as I kept squirming trying to somehow get free. “You're not the first woman I've tried to employ with this in mind. All the others were either not ticklish or utter bitches. You though, you're perfect. Super ticklish and super sweet.”
I wanted to scream at her to let me go, that I was going to call the cops when I could but all I could do was laugh with each stroke of her nails.
“You honestly didn't think I was going to pay you $17/hour to just do some laundry did you,” she said as her nails began to dig under my toes sending me into ticklish convulsions. “I'm still going to pay you for all the time I tickle you. I'm not a monster and slavery is illegal after all.”
“Go...to...hell,” I finally managed to eek out through the tickling.
“That's no way to talk to your new mistress. You'll learn soon enough to treat me with the respect I deserve.”
I could barely see what was happening with how dark the room was but I felt what only could have been a hair brush being run over my arches. This woman was a pure psycho, but unfortunately for me, she was a talented psycho. Every stroke of the brushes bristles sent an electric shock through my entire body. I was left with no other choice.
“Sorry...mistress,” the second I uttered those words, I knew my life had taken a drastically different turn.
“Hearing that warms my heart,” she said with a sincerity which chilled my bones. “You'll find I'm not a terrible mistress to have. The tickling community is a lot larger than you realize. There's other women like me who have their own tickle toys like you, it's how I got the idea. Some were even kind enough to let me borrow their toys for a day or two. Now I can repay the favor.”
That last sentence frightened me but there was no time to worry about the torture that awaited, only the torture currently going on. Antonia evidently grew tired of my feet, or had discovered every ticklish spec there was to find, as her nails began to trail up my thighs.
“Please mistress, I need a break,” I cackled in between the laughter.
“You'll get a break when I want you too,” she replied as her hands, used to kneading dough, were now kneading my inner thighs. It was then I realized my shirt had ridden up with my arms raised as I was completely naked from the waist down instead of having half my butt covered.
Having a woman I barely knew running her hands inches from my privates was having an entirely different effect than I expected. Little beads of excitement were beginning to form between my legs making me question what the hell I was feeling.
If Antonia noticed this, she didn't let on.
“Now, the real question begins. Is your upperbody just as ticklish as your lower half. Oh and don't answer that, I want to discover it on my own.”
It was of little consequence because even if I wanted to tell her my upperbody was just as ticklish, if not more so, than my lower body all my breath was being used to not pass out from the torture. Antonia began rolling my shirt up exposing more and more skin for her to sink her nails into with the shirt firmly rolled under my breasts.
“You have such a wonderful tummy, may I explore. Who am I kidding, of course I can.”
Like when we first met, her fingers were poking and prodding my sides. Unlike before though, there was no end in sight.
“Please mistress Antonia, I need a break,” I gasped as my breasts heaved up and down from the tickling at my sides.
“Oh, alright. I'll give you a 10 minute break to catch your breath and drink some water but it's going to come at a price. I want you to beg me to tickle your pits,” Antonia said cruelly.
Seeing as I had little other choice, I was forced to accept her demands which became even more drastic after the fact.
“How would you like to sit up and stretch your arms out,” she said sweetly, which was such a change in tone frightened me immediately. “Doing so will result in the loss of your shirt though.”
There was the sinister sneer I'd come accustomed to. Once again, with little choice and knowing I'd have lost it sooner or later, I agreed to her conditions. It did feel great to finally sit up and stretch albeit at the cost of my breasts being utterly exposed.
“Very nice,” Antonia giggled as the sight of my DD's. I was just about to cover them up instinctively with my arms but was soon forced down back on the bed and re-tied. Shortly after I discovered the game she was about to play with me.
Not wanting to be asked and endure her wrath, I decided to go ahead with the price of my much needed break. “Mistress Antonia, please tickle my pits. I really could use it.”
“But of course dear, I'm here to serve,” she couldn't help but laugh when saying that. I had been prepared for my pits to be tickled, not for what happened instead as quickly all 10 of her nails were skittering over my breasts.
“No no no no I said PITS not BREASTS,” I screamed hoping against hope she'd stop as my body looked like it was having a seizure.
“I clearly am tickling the right spot, you said please tickle my tits,” with that she began a renewed campaign on my ticklish breasts which swayed side-to-side hoping to escape her fingers.
“Tickle my underarms please I beg you,” I said hoping to get her to switch.
“Tickle your undersides, that seems cruel but if you insist,” was how she responded to my latest plea, her nails lifting up the sensitive skin underneath my breasts little by little driving me insane.
“OH MY GOD TICKLE MY PITS, MY UNDERARMS, MY HOLLOWS, I BEG YOU NOT MY BREASTS,” I pleaded not knowing how much longer I could hold out.
She stopped momentarily, looking bewildered before replying “Why didn't you say so Julia. I thought it was a little odd you wanted your breasts tickled but I only wanted to oblige.”
Antonia's fingers dug so deep into my pits I thought I was going to die, but it sure beat the alternative. For the next 15 minutes I kept begging for my underarms to be tortured so she wouldn't go back to my breasts. Each tickle attempt drove my body wild and by the time she stopped I was a sweaty mess.
Without a word, I fell asleep while Antonia untied me and I woke up a few hours later to the smell of waffle batter frying. I walked into the kitchen to find my new mistress making Belgian waffles as she promised the night before. I thought to myself, she may be a psycho but she keeps her word at least.
And, it may be hard to believe, but those waffles were so good they almost made up for what I had endured. Almost.
............
Ok, this is somewhat set up to just be a one-off story or I can make it into a series if the interest is there. Thoughts/comments/suggestions encouraged.
My name is Julia, although my friends mostly call me Jules. I was about your average 19-year-old college freshman, shoulder length blonde hair, 5-7 and an hourglass frame. Growing up in the country, I wasn't afraid of getting my hands dirty so I thought becoming a maid would be perfect. I could help out people keeping their houses clean and make some decent bucks since not many people would want to.
I started looking at websites which help people like me connect with prospective clients. This seemed like a solid plan, and I sure as hell wasn't going to look on Craigslist.
After a few days of searching, I stumbled upon Antonia. She was a 39-year-old private chef who specialized in Italian cooking, my favorite. We exchanged e-mails and terms of my employment including a salary of $17/hour. I felt bad charging that much but figured she could afford it.
Antonia suggested I come over around 9 a.m. Tuesday. She'd show me her house and what would need doing. I'd likely work until 5 p.m., at which time she'd cook me dinner as a get-to-know-you gesture. Anyone who's ever been in college can attest, never turn down free food especially after a long days work. Plus, how many chances do you get cooked dinner by a professional chef.
On the chosen day, I arrived 15 minutes early not wanting to leave a bad first impression.
“Hello,” Antonia said as she opened the door to her house, which was closer to a mansion. “You must be Julia,”
“Yep, it's great to finally meet you,” I said admiring her beauty. She was dressed in a chef's coat and work pants which, intentionally or not, clung to her voluptuous frame which was itself draped in her chestnut hair. “Shall we get started?”
“Why not, I have to be at the restaurant in 30 minutes anyway,” Antonia said. “I have to say I'm a bit disappointed you're not wearing the traditional French maid outfit.”
She quickly poked my sides in a playful manner as I tried not to let her see me blush while I jumped from the surprise tickle. “Oh I figured this was far more appropriate attire for cleaning,” I said in my over-sized grey t-shirt and black sweatpants.
“Well, a possible change for the future maybe,” She said smiling, poking me again causing me to giggle and squirm even more.
She then showed me around the house, what needed cleaning and how to use her washer and dryer along with a few other items. Antonia also mentioned if I want to take a break and work a bit longer I was free to enjoy her pool.
One place which caught my eye was the basement, which the door down to it was locked.
“Am I not supposed to clean down there?” I asked politely.
Antonia got a bit flustered before saying “Oh no need, nothing down there but some junk of mine. I hardly ever use it so why waste time on it.”
It seemed a little odd but I didn't think too much about it. Antonia drove off to work and I spent the next several hours doing laundry, washing dishing and a whole host of other things. Once 5 o'clock hit and with Antonia not home I figured I'd earned a nice dip in the pool to cool off.
My clothes were covered in sweat so I thought why not wash them in the final laundry load of the day and just go skinny dipping seeing as I didn't have a bathing suit here or anything. I slipped off my tee and sweats before removing my turquoise bra and panties before wrapping myself in a towel and heading to the pool while the clothes wash.
It being a steamy summer night, putting my toes in the water felt amazing. Soon I went in all the way and just lounged about not paying attention to the time so I didn't notice when Antonia arrived home.
“Having fun I see. I rather like this new uniform of yours even more than the French one,” she said snickering as my ample DD's where bobbing at the top of the water in my birthday suit.
“EEEE,” I screamed terribly embarrassed from my over exposure. “I...uh...didn't have a suit so I figured this would be fine while my clothes dried. I'm terribly sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry over. I've been to plenty of spas before with naked women and if they all looked like you I'd probably go more often,” Antonia chuckled enjoying my embarrassment. “I brought home some fettuccine alfredo from the restaurant if you'd like to join me for dinner.”
She then handed me my towel, I dried off before retrieving my clothes and heading to the dining room. We enjoyed some nice conversation over probably the best fettuccine alfredo I ever had in my life. I told her what I'd gotten done and she spoke of the excitement of running her own restaurant.
I couldn't believe it when I looked at the clock, it was almost midnight. I thanked Antonia for the dinner and told her I really should be going.
“Nonsense,” she said. “I was going to see if you could come back tomorrow at 9 a.m. Anyway so why don't you just stay in my guest room. It really wouldn't be a bother and it's nice to have company. I'll make Belgian waffles for breakfast!”
I was going to decline but the idea of Belgian waffles was too hard to resist, so I reluctantly agreed.
The guestroom was better than my apartment for sure, almost as large as it too. There was a huge four-post king-size bed that was like sleeping on clouds. The room itself was decorated like a little slice of Italy with pictures of pasta and bread everywhere. She had obviously spent a ton of time and money at Hobby Lobby.
After a quick shower I put on my over-sized t-shirt as a makeshift nightgown, granted half my ass was showing but I mean really, who was going to see me in nothing but this t-shirt anyway.
I crawled into the bed and was asleep in no time at all.
Sometime later that night, I woke up on my back which was incredibly strange since I always sleep on my stomach. What made me worried was I couldn't move my arms or legs, I was completely immobile. Fearing the worst, I yelled out to Antonia thinking some burglar had some in during the night. If only it had been that.
Seconds after my frantic cry for help, Antonia walked into the room. I should have been relieved but the look in her eye scared me far more than being tied up.
“I'm glad you're finally awake, I was worried we wouldn't get to enjoy ourselves tonight,” she said looking me over like I was a giant New York strip steak. She pulled back the covers and as I expected I was tied spread eagle to the bed.
“Why are you doing this, what do you want,” I worriedly yelled.
“The answer to your questions are simple...I want to tickle you,” Antonia said with an evil grin on her face.
“Tickle me!!!” I screamed knowing how deathly ticklish I was. “What the hell is wrong with you.”
“Nothing's wrong with me Julia,” she said calmly. “I just happen to have a particular fetish in which I adore the sound of a woman's laugh.”
It was then Antonia began to run her nails up and down my soles at the foot of the bed causing me to giggle and squirm.
“I knew right away when I gave you my little tickle test when we first met we'd get along famously,” Antonia said as she continued to tickle my soles as I kept squirming trying to somehow get free. “You're not the first woman I've tried to employ with this in mind. All the others were either not ticklish or utter bitches. You though, you're perfect. Super ticklish and super sweet.”
I wanted to scream at her to let me go, that I was going to call the cops when I could but all I could do was laugh with each stroke of her nails.
“You honestly didn't think I was going to pay you $17/hour to just do some laundry did you,” she said as her nails began to dig under my toes sending me into ticklish convulsions. “I'm still going to pay you for all the time I tickle you. I'm not a monster and slavery is illegal after all.”
“Go...to...hell,” I finally managed to eek out through the tickling.
“That's no way to talk to your new mistress. You'll learn soon enough to treat me with the respect I deserve.”
I could barely see what was happening with how dark the room was but I felt what only could have been a hair brush being run over my arches. This woman was a pure psycho, but unfortunately for me, she was a talented psycho. Every stroke of the brushes bristles sent an electric shock through my entire body. I was left with no other choice.
“Sorry...mistress,” the second I uttered those words, I knew my life had taken a drastically different turn.
“Hearing that warms my heart,” she said with a sincerity which chilled my bones. “You'll find I'm not a terrible mistress to have. The tickling community is a lot larger than you realize. There's other women like me who have their own tickle toys like you, it's how I got the idea. Some were even kind enough to let me borrow their toys for a day or two. Now I can repay the favor.”
That last sentence frightened me but there was no time to worry about the torture that awaited, only the torture currently going on. Antonia evidently grew tired of my feet, or had discovered every ticklish spec there was to find, as her nails began to trail up my thighs.
“Please mistress, I need a break,” I cackled in between the laughter.
“You'll get a break when I want you too,” she replied as her hands, used to kneading dough, were now kneading my inner thighs. It was then I realized my shirt had ridden up with my arms raised as I was completely naked from the waist down instead of having half my butt covered.
Having a woman I barely knew running her hands inches from my privates was having an entirely different effect than I expected. Little beads of excitement were beginning to form between my legs making me question what the hell I was feeling.
If Antonia noticed this, she didn't let on.
“Now, the real question begins. Is your upperbody just as ticklish as your lower half. Oh and don't answer that, I want to discover it on my own.”
It was of little consequence because even if I wanted to tell her my upperbody was just as ticklish, if not more so, than my lower body all my breath was being used to not pass out from the torture. Antonia began rolling my shirt up exposing more and more skin for her to sink her nails into with the shirt firmly rolled under my breasts.
“You have such a wonderful tummy, may I explore. Who am I kidding, of course I can.”
Like when we first met, her fingers were poking and prodding my sides. Unlike before though, there was no end in sight.
“Please mistress Antonia, I need a break,” I gasped as my breasts heaved up and down from the tickling at my sides.
“Oh, alright. I'll give you a 10 minute break to catch your breath and drink some water but it's going to come at a price. I want you to beg me to tickle your pits,” Antonia said cruelly.
Seeing as I had little other choice, I was forced to accept her demands which became even more drastic after the fact.
“How would you like to sit up and stretch your arms out,” she said sweetly, which was such a change in tone frightened me immediately. “Doing so will result in the loss of your shirt though.”
There was the sinister sneer I'd come accustomed to. Once again, with little choice and knowing I'd have lost it sooner or later, I agreed to her conditions. It did feel great to finally sit up and stretch albeit at the cost of my breasts being utterly exposed.
“Very nice,” Antonia giggled as the sight of my DD's. I was just about to cover them up instinctively with my arms but was soon forced down back on the bed and re-tied. Shortly after I discovered the game she was about to play with me.
Not wanting to be asked and endure her wrath, I decided to go ahead with the price of my much needed break. “Mistress Antonia, please tickle my pits. I really could use it.”
“But of course dear, I'm here to serve,” she couldn't help but laugh when saying that. I had been prepared for my pits to be tickled, not for what happened instead as quickly all 10 of her nails were skittering over my breasts.
“No no no no I said PITS not BREASTS,” I screamed hoping against hope she'd stop as my body looked like it was having a seizure.
“I clearly am tickling the right spot, you said please tickle my tits,” with that she began a renewed campaign on my ticklish breasts which swayed side-to-side hoping to escape her fingers.
“Tickle my underarms please I beg you,” I said hoping to get her to switch.
“Tickle your undersides, that seems cruel but if you insist,” was how she responded to my latest plea, her nails lifting up the sensitive skin underneath my breasts little by little driving me insane.
“OH MY GOD TICKLE MY PITS, MY UNDERARMS, MY HOLLOWS, I BEG YOU NOT MY BREASTS,” I pleaded not knowing how much longer I could hold out.
She stopped momentarily, looking bewildered before replying “Why didn't you say so Julia. I thought it was a little odd you wanted your breasts tickled but I only wanted to oblige.”
Antonia's fingers dug so deep into my pits I thought I was going to die, but it sure beat the alternative. For the next 15 minutes I kept begging for my underarms to be tortured so she wouldn't go back to my breasts. Each tickle attempt drove my body wild and by the time she stopped I was a sweaty mess.
Without a word, I fell asleep while Antonia untied me and I woke up a few hours later to the smell of waffle batter frying. I walked into the kitchen to find my new mistress making Belgian waffles as she promised the night before. I thought to myself, she may be a psycho but she keeps her word at least.
And, it may be hard to believe, but those waffles were so good they almost made up for what I had endured. Almost.
............
Ok, this is somewhat set up to just be a one-off story or I can make it into a series if the interest is there. Thoughts/comments/suggestions encouraged.
