The Hands That Lead

A hands on kind of leader…

Submission

Monday December 11, 2017

She held the hem of her latex skirt out from her ass and then let it drop back down, laying perfectly once more as she viewed herself in the mirror before she picked up the duster and continued to clean the room.

She’d been fighting it for months, from the first moment she’d realized something was wrong, but no matter how hard she tried, it simply made no difference.

She didn’t know how the old fart had done it, or for that matter even when he’d started to do it, but it was too late now as she moved dutifully from room to room.

She’d started house cleaning for him six months ago, just after his wife had “left” him.  Or as now knew to be the truth, he’d decided she was too old now and had sent her on her way.

At first it had been just a job, cleaning the house once a week, doing the laundry, just the basics.  She needed the extra income and when her friend that worked at the cleaning company had suggested she take some hours, she’d decided why not?

For the first few weeks, she hadn’t even noticed the small changes that had started in her behaviour.  She’d started spending more time cleaning than she actually billed, wore tighter clothing and then skirts and heels, she’d started bending over at the waist and taking small mincing steps.

But after the second month, when she passed by the mirror and realized she was dressed in a black cotton maids uniform, her mind clicked and she tried to make a bee line for her gym bag where she knew her street clothes were.

But instead, she’d stayed right there, staring at the mirror, a little tickle running down her spine and then finally a smile crossing her lips as she moved away from the mirror and finished cleaning.

She’d gone home that night and resolved to call the cleaning company in the morning and resign.  She never wanted to go back to that house again.

Somehow, that didn’t happen and instead she found herself moving through the week as if on auto pilot.  Until she was once more standing in front of the mirror the next week.

She’d studied her reflection for a while, noticing the slightly shorter skirt and the deeper neck line of the top.

It was another month or so after that she noticed the change in the material, gone was the simple cotton, replaced with shiny latex.

The shock had made her think back and realize she’d gone and bought the outfit herself without realizing it.  She also realized she’d been “cleaning” the house three times a week!

She’d gone home and sworn to herself she was going to go to the police in the morning, she didn’t know what she would tell them, but they would have to help somehow.

She’d gotten in her car and started towards the police station, pulling up she’d gotten out of her car, inserted her key in to the front door and changed in to her uniform before she once more started to clean.

It was only when she had started her car to go back home that she had consciously realized what she had done.

Things had only progressed from there.  When she was at his home cleaning, her life seemed to go by in a flash.  Her mind hardly processing the fact she was doing anything before it was already done.

And every week or so she’d look in the mirror and see more changes, that she only remembered making in the moment.

The dye job on her hair, the addition of the leggings and gloves, the increase to 4″ and then 6″ heels and finally to ballet heels.

It was just last week that she’d realized she’d been living at the house for almost a month.  It had crashed down on her like a avalanche; terminating her lease at her apartment, selling her furniture and car, donating almost all of her clothing and other belongings.

She walked in to the kitchen and opened the cleaning closet door, placing her duster and cloth in their proper places before closing it once more and heading to the den.

“Monsieur, zee clea-ning iz coom-plete.” her voice echoed in to the large room, the bad french accent completing her humiliation.

“Ah, good Marie.  When will dinner be ready?” he asked.

“Zix O-Clock, monsieur.”

“Good, we have some time, come over here.” he commanded and the clicking of her ballet heels filled the room until she was standing right beside him as he sat in his chair.

She felt his hand slide up under her skirt and caress her bare pussy.

“I see the cleaning has made you as slick as always.”

“Mmmm… Oui monsieur!”

His finger pushed between her slick folds, “Ahhhh… Oui, oui, oui!”, she called out as she gyrated her hips and pushed her breasts together with her latex covered hands.

Her mind hated every moment, but her body was on fire and as soon as she heard the words she knew which was going to win out once more, “Time to clean out my balls Marie.”

She bent over at the waist and attacked his pants, pulling them down and freeing his hardening shaft from them just in time for her lips to wrap around it.

She worked up and down him, taking him deep in to her throat.  She had never been able to do it before, but he’d somehow taken away her gag reflex amongst all the changes.

When the first drops of cum hit her, she slide all the way down, holding herself in place as she sucked every last drop from him.  Then when she was sure he was done, an orgasm crashed over her and she nearly collapsed on to the floor.

It wasn’t long before he softened and she stood back upright, headed back to the kitchen and returned with a warm wet towel to clean him off with.

She completed her task and then stood there, hands out in front of her with the towel drapped across them as he stood and buttoned up his pants once more.

“Very good Marie, go attend to dinner, I’ll call you if I need you again.”

“Oui monsieur.” she replied and left the den.

She still fought it with all her will, except for those moments when he was inside of her, then her body and mind were as one as the pleasure overwhelmed any thought of resistance.

She still didn’t know how he had done it, but for those minutes she was in heaven.  And if that meant living through hell the rest of the time, it seemed like something she could live with, whether she had a choice about it or not.

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