Ms Robertson: Parts 15-21 by Katt Ford

Author:Katt Ford
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-08-08T04:00:00+00:00

Preparing For The Party

It was warm in the bathroom. Every single drop that fell from the faucet echoed back from the flawless tiles. Ms. Robertson’s bathroom was almost the size of my apartment, and I knew it wasn’t the only one the house contained. This was her personal bathroom, the one connected to her vast bedroom. It was the first time I had seen where my mistress slept. But I didn’t have much time to take in the view or to study the faint impression of her gorgeous body the still showed on the sheets from the previous night. I was there to work.

For that matter, so was Tiffany. These kinds of tasks, the most personal care of Ms. Robertson, usually fell to her. After all, I was still in training, still trying to prove my worth to both of these wildly sexy women. When I allowed myself to think about it, it struck me that possibly this new intimacy represented progress in my role. But I told myself not to put too much store in it. Ms. Robertson, I had soon learned, was nothing if not capricious. One day, I might feel that she was very pleased with me, only to find her directing Tiffany to punish me harshly the next. She kept me on my toes, just as the outrageous high heels I was forced to wear with my kinky latex French maid uniform kept me on my toes. And even as I was learning to serve a little better, to move a little more comfortably in the highly restrictive uniform, the shame of being made to wear it never seemed to go away.

Ms. Robertson reclined in the warm water of a huge bathtub that could comfortably fit the three of us if she so desired. Her dark hair was slicked back wetly from her forehead, her body shining in teasing glimpses that showed through the fine froth of bubbles that floated on the surface of the water. The smell was delicious, a combination of doubtless very expensive products that she used to pamper herself. As though she needed more pampering. And I hunched over the side of the tub, ignoring the pain in my knees as I carefully painted my mistress's toes. That was my job.

Beside me, Tiffany also kneeled on the bathroom floor. She held a tiny jar the same varnish I did in her hand. Her brush slid over the fingernails of Ms. Robertson's extended left hand. And our mistress watched from under half-closed eyes as we diligently served her, devoting ourselves to our task as though it were the most important thing in the world.

I tried to focus on what I was doing. The last thing I wanted was to mess up. I had no doubt that even the slightest infraction I committed tonight would be severely punished. Tiffany had made that clear. But it wasn't easy to focus when Ms. Robertson lay beneath the water, and the drifting bubbles alternately concealed and exposed her beautiful body.

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