I got up, carrying the pots to the sink.
“Leave them until tomorrow,” he said, reaching into his pocket and bringing out a can of oil. “Here, take this with you.”
“What on earth for?”
“To stop your front door squeaking.”
TWELVE
DONNA
I thought of him the next morning when I opened my front door. It didn’t make a sound, so much better than the scraping squeak of the last couple of days. I made my way up to his house in time for nine o’clock, knocking on the door once again. He appeared much quicker, a bag in his hand. “Go into the bathroom and change into this,” he said, thrusting the back into my hand.
“What is it?”
“A more appropriate uniform for my little princess.”
I took the bag from him and headed upstairs, making the sure the bathroom door was closed before reaching into the bag and pulling out a maid’s uniform. Did he really expect me to wear it? I asked myself but then I thought of the money, and of the way he’d looked at me yesterday when my top was wet. Somewhere deep inside me, a tingling began to grow as I pulled off my tee-shirt. The tingling developed into butterflies as I slid down my jeans, standing in my underwear in his bathroom, in my Daddy’s house. I was his little princess and I was going to play dressing up for his amusement.
The only odd thing about it was how normal it felt to climb into the black dress. It fitted me perfectly but it was like no maid uniform I’d ever seen before. It was so low cut, my bra was visible at the bottom of my cleavage. The hem of it was as short as the dress he’d given me during the storm, and looking at myself in the mirror made the butterflies grow in my tummy. I felt nervous about what he’d think of me in it. Had he known it would look like this on me? Had he made a mistake when ordering it?
I stepped out of the bathroom to find him waiting at the top of the stairs. “That looks better,” he said, glancing down at the dress. “Much better.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” I replied.
“You are to clean the stairs and then the bathroom. I want each step brushed and the skirting scrubbed. Understood?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I had to squeeze past him to head downstairs and as I did so, I felt his body brush against mine. Just the feel of him was enough to make my heart skip a beat as I descended to the hallway. I turned, picking up the spray and cloth he’d put on the bottom step for me. I began to scrub at the wall by the bottom step, feeling his eyes still on me. Glancing up, I saw he was still there, stood in silence at the top of the stairs, his arms folded across his chest.
I worked my way slowly upwards. By the time I reached the third step, I’d been shaking my body too much, my boobs beginning to fall out of my bra. I wanted to stop and rearrange myself but I didn’t know how best to do it when he was continuing to watch me. So I just hoped they’d stay in, trying not to move too much as I scrubbed, feeling my nipples almost on display, his eyes fixed on me, my chest heaving from side to side as I steadily worked my way up to him.
Just as I reached the very last step, my left breast won the battle for freedom, starting to slide from my bra. My nipple came into view but I caught it just in time, cramming my boob back inside and refusing to look up at him, hoping he wouldn’t mention it. “Onto the bathroom,” he said. “Be sure to dust round the window in there.”
He pushed his way past me, heading downstairs. I could have sworn there was a bulge visible in his trousers as he went by but he was too quick for me to see properly. I waited until he’d gone before getting to my feet, making my way to the bathroom. Once inside, I adjusted my boobs properly, blushing furiously at the thought of how much of me he’d just seen.
While wiping around the edge of the bath, I caught sight of something that had fallen underneath it, the panel having come loose at the corner. I reached in and got my fingers on paper, dragging up a magazine. I gasped as I looked at the cover. The picture was of a woman tied down, her ass pointing towards the camera as a cane whipped down onto her, held by someone out of shot. Flicking through the pages, I felt myself getting hotter as I looked at one act of corporal punishment after another. The middle pages were the most indecent, the models were actually fucking. So that was what he was into. BDSM.
There was a creak of a floorboard out on the landing and I dropped the magazine like it was on fire. Spinning around, my elbow caught the side of the toothbrush holder and it fell through the air, shattering on the tiles at my feet.
“What was that?” he asked, pushing the door open. “Did you break something?”
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I said, wondering if my cheeks were as red as they felt. “I accidentally broke your toothbrush holder.”