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Angie gets reamed.

In a mirror she could see how thinly it stretched over her breasts, and felt how tightly it pulled around her cheeks.

Margaret had definitely chosen this vulgar dress. Was it to humiliate her, or to excite her son. She was past caring about what she wore in front of him, and he didn't seem turned on by it.

'You don't like it do you, sir?' she commented.

'It makes you look like a street walker. I prefer you to look what you are, Mrs Marshal,' he said, flashing her a look of amusement.

'So, what am I?' she persisted. He was reminding her she had been a married woman, and the mother of his ex-girlfriend, but let it pass.

'A HILF,' he smiled.

Taking in her blank look, he explained. 'A housewife I'd like to fuck. In fact, a housewife I loved fucking, and I'm going to fuck later,' he laughed.

She knew it was no boast. It was all true, he would be fucking her whenever he liked. Acknowledging it drove home that she had completely abandoned her morals. She was hardly able to escape home on these stilts, and didn't have the gumption to risk the dire reaction from his mother. So she had an excuse to stay and face the consequences.

The awful expression, HILF, was belittling and it fired her up. His statement of fact served to put her in her place, and she revelled in it. Being his sex toy shouldn't have been acceptable, but she was so driven by sexual desire, any normal reticence was forgotten.

'Yes sir, I'm your obedient maid, ready for you, sir,' she heavily breathed. She gave him a lingering look of need.

'Your my sexy bitch, keeping your pussy ready for me?' he asked.

'Yes, Sir!' she eagerly offered. Her whole body felt hot with excitement.

'Later! As my maid, you should be getting me something to eat,' he said.

He took her arm in a firm grip to guide her out of the room. Helping her down the stairs, she wondered if he had taken in what she said. She hoped he would satisfy her lust soon, for the need was so strong it dominated her thoughts.

'You know where the kitchen is,' he dismissively spoke.

'What would you like, sir,' she asked.

'Surprise me,' he said, with a shrug of his shoulders.

Summarily dismissed, she wobbled off to the kitchen, trying not to fall off the high heels. Dare she remove them? The shoes were strapped to her ankles, so they couldn't be kicked off. The tightened corset meant it was impossible to bend over to reach them, and the lacings couldn't be reached. The get-up turned out to be an effective incarceration, for she couldn't walk off home, in what felt like stilts. She would be going nowhere quickly, and outside the house was off limits in the dress.

Home was only a couple of blocks away, yet an infinite number of little steps.

Of course she would stay and face whatever he had planned. It was hoped her satisfaction figured into whatever it was he wanted. Without hesitating she walked into the study, keen to be near him. Again he was looking through lines of figures on the computer, all of which looked complicated.

'Sir?' she quietly spoke, not wishing to interrupt, needing his attention. She handed over the plate, hoping it would meet with his approval.

'Mmm! Good!' he said, through a mouthful of lasagne.

She watched him shovelling it in, as though he hadn't eaten for a week.

'I'm glad you're enjoying it, Sir,' she smiled.

'Mom's a terrible cook. You're a good maid. The place is clean and tidy, and the food is great,' he said.

This time it was a genuine compliment, not teasing at all.

'Thank you, sir. I really want to please you, sir,' Jane smiled.

After a moment the thought occurred that she wasn't a maid. She was a neighbour, coerced through blackmail into being a humble servant in their home. Even so, the pleasant feeling generated from his approval, was difficult to shake off. Maybe she could win him around by serving good food, and kindness.

He put the plate down, and reached for her. All her doubts vanished, with a renewal of the familiar sexual thrill from his touch.

'Be careful, sir, I

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