Chapter 5
Marjorie Lloyd was on the telephone with the woman from the employment agency. As she'd expected, she'd played her game once too often. The employment office supervisor was catching on.
"Mrs. Lloyd, you've seen more than five potential housekeepers in the past week. Weren't any of them acceptable to you?”
"I'm sure my standards must be high, but I don't think that I should have to lower them just because the caliber of maid service has gone down so dramatically in the past few years," Marjorie answered haughtily.
"Well, what exactly is it that you're looking for. Maybe if you spell it out in further detail, we'll be able to tailor the housekeeper to your specific needs. All I know is that you've turned down more than most people do, and several of the potential maids ran away from your house, it seems. One of them said the place was cursed, but she wouldn't go into it any further.”
"The superstitions of ignorant people," Marjorie huffed. Secretly, she was relieved that none of the maids had told any more of the perverted paces she put them through. As she'd hoped, they were either too embarrassed to relate such explicit and humiliating sexual details, or they were afraid to report someone as rich and as powerful as she was.
It was better just to say that it hadn't worked out, and leave it at that.
"I'm looking for a woman to be my personal maid," Marjorie started. "I prefer a black woman. Young. Strong. Beautiful.”
"Beautiful! What does that have to do with it?" the supervisor yelped.
"I am Marjorie Lloyd. Everything must be perfect for me. I know the way I want this maid to be.”
"I see.”
"Do you have anybody to send me today? I need a maid badly,”
“Well, I have one woman who meets your requirements, but I doubt that you'll want her.”
"Nonsense. If she meets my requirements, of course I'll want to try her out. I'll be happy to break her in if she's new at it.”
"Well, it's not that, exactly," the supervisor hedged. "I probably shouldn't have mentioned it at all. She's probably not for your caliber of person at all. I just feel that I have to let anyone who would hire her know the full truth and then decide if they want to keep her or not.”
"Well, get on with it," Marjorie said, blowing smoke rings from the cigarette she had inserted into a silver cigarette holder clamped between her pearly teeth. "Let's hear all the details.”
"I interviewed her myself, Mrs. Lloyd. Her name is Magnolia. She's tall, very able bodied, and twenty-five years old. She's black, and she is an extraordinarily beautiful woman. She wants to serve in somebody's home.”
"She sounds like she's perfect. What's the catch?”
"Well, the catch is the fact that she's just come out of prison. She was referred to us by the warden who says that she's made progress and is ready to be free. She needs a job and she's willing to work hard.”
“What was she in prison for?”
“I'm afraid that she was involved in a lot of things. She was caught selling narcotics to an undercover agent. It happens that she was also the madam of a house of prostitution in Harlem. She had been paying off the police.”
"She must know a lot about sex. I'll bet she did quite a trade in discipline. Those cops with all those handcuffs and guns and everything just love to have their pants pulled down by a big, black bitch. They need to get their white asses paddled red by a big, black hand, don't you agree?”
"Mrs. Lloyd! I'm only here to send you the maid you requested. Now that I see more of the picture, I think that Magnolia will be perfect for you. send her right over.”
The supervisor hung up the phone before another word could be said.
Marjorie was intrigued.
"Hmmmm. Madam of a house, huh?" she said to herself as she poured herself her third glass of wine. It was still not eleven in the morning. Maybe it was the wine, or the funny cigarette she smoked which prompted her to be, very "Bold and revealing on the telephone.
"I'll bet she knows the ropes. And a junkie! That sounds good. Maybe she can sell me some good cocaine.”
Marjorie wanted to listen to her S and M record to get herself hot and bothered before the arrival of her latest try-out in the maid sweepstakes, but she barely had time to do anything. Before she knew it, the buzzer was ringing. Magnolia was here.
On the street, they called Magnolia "the Harlem Connection." When she was caught, she had ten-thousand Quaaludes stashed in her house, seven pounds of marijuana, and several guns. All this, not to mention a place full of call girls.
When she walked in the door, Marjorie smiled inside of herself. She had met her match. She had met another dominatrix. She was sure of it.
"I don't do no windows," Magnolia said flatly.
"Are those your first words to me?" Marjorie asked, raising her eyebrows as she spoke.
"I sure guess so," Magnolia said. "And you can call Ms. Betty.”
"Ms. Betty? I thought they said your name was Magnolia.”
"That's my first name. It's Ms. Betty to you.”
"Magnolia Betty, huh? Well, come in Ms. Betty and I'll show you the place.”
"Big.”
"Yes, it's rather big," Marjorie said.
"A lot to clean.”
"Shouldn't be too much for you. You like to clean apartments, don't you?”
"Not particularly," Ms. Betty replied.
Marjorie could see that this would be a challenge. She didn't want to come on as strong as she had when she dealt with some of the previous maids, Elouise included. She didn't want to set this bitch off. For one thing, she wasn't at all sure that she could handle her.
Ms. Betty was a big woman. Her bust was huge, but the rest of her was in proportion to it. Not that she was fat at all. She was in proportion. She was just big, tall, and threatening.
Her hair was very closely cropped in an African style. Her nostrils were flaring as she spoke. Her nose was wide. Her lips were full. She had dark skin and she was dominant in her manner of speaking, in her voice and in the things she said.
"I'll put it to you straight," she said as Marjorie began to show her the bathroom, the room she wanted her to look over first.
"Yes?”
"They told me at the agency that I'd have to be on good behavior. I just got out of the slammer. I had my fill of that place. Fm not gonna go back there, not even for Vicki, my lover there.”
Marjorie was silenced. She was sure that she would be learning from this woman. She wasn't so sure that she wanted to take her on, though. She was a little bit too aggressive for her tastes. They'd have to work something out.
"I was sayin', I'm not out for no bullshit. I'm gonna do my thing. I'm gonna use your phone to make dates. I'm gonna do my thing. That's all there is to it. I don't take shit from a honky bitch.”
"I can't believe you're talking like this on your first day on the job.”
"I'm not on the job yet," she replied. "I don't know if I want it yet.”
"Well, are you sure you haven't been talking to any of the other women who were sent here? You sound as if you're striking back at me.”
"Why? Did you give 'em a hard time?”
"They didn't meet my standards.”
"Your standards don't look so high," Ms. Betty said. "Look at that bowl. There's piss on the base of it. Dried, yellow piss.”
"That Corbett!" Marjorie said, without even thinking. "He's so sloppy. He wasn't watching what he was doing, I guess.”
"And you expect me to clean up your husband's piss from the bottom of the toilet?" Ms. Betty asked.
That was it. Without doubt, that was the moment that something had to be done. Marjorie was no fool. She wasn't going to take a dominating bitch into her house to humiliate and boss her around and then pay her for it.
She liked the idea of having a strong woman around the place. But she had to have the upper hand.
She took in a deep breath. Then she spoke.
"Yeah, I want you to clean up that piss. You'll clean up my husband's dried up piss any time I tell you to. You'll clean it with your mouth, and if you have to, you'll take it from his dick.”
That was it. It had been said. Either she was going to be knocked in the mouth or ...
As it happened, the alternative took place. Ms. Betty came on like gangbusters. But as soon as Marjorie put her foot down and gave her the nasty command, Ms. Betty went down on the floor with her face at the base of the toilet.
Marjorie saw that this was no time to let up.
"I'll handcuff you to the toilet and make you stay there until you clean it so it shines," she added.
Ms. Betty started making little panting noises as she licked the toilet clean with her tongue.
"Show me that tongue," Marjorie said.
Ms. Betty stuck her tongue out to show the piss on it. When she licked it with her wet tongue muscle, the caked up urine turned into stale liquid again. She lapped it up like a dog.
Ms. Betty, having been madam of a house of whores, knew about dominance and submission. She could play both sides of the fence, and intended to do just that always.
For now she was content to follow the lead of her potential employer. She knew that she could regain the upper hand at any time.
From the beginning she suspected that Marjorie Lloyd was looking for something more than your average black house maid.
"Now that we understand each other," Marjorie said, "I'll get your uniform. You can strip out of those clothes.”
"I'm still not sure I want this job," Ms. Betty told her.
Marjorie picked up the brush which was sitting on the surface of the sink. She walloped Ms. Betty across the thigh. The sound of the back of the brush hitting against the woman's body echoed in the tiled bathroom.
"Get out of those clothes!”
"Yes, Ma'am.”
When Ms. Betty, (or Magnolia, if you prefer) removed her clothes, there was a red mark where the brush had smacked her.
"I’ll sit on the edge of this bathtub and put you over my knee with your head in the toilet bowl," Marjorie told her, "and I'll give you a beating you won't forget if you talk back to me like that again. This is your trial period. You'll be paid for the day, even if you chose not to take the job.”
"Yes, Ma'am.”
Marjorie brought the uniform. For Ms. Betty, she had chosen something different. It started with a girdle which would pull Ms. Betty's waist in tight. It was a corset, really, and Marjorie insisted on fastening it herself.
She wrapped the body of the corset around Ms. Betty's waist Then she pulled back hard on the draw strings of it She pulled them back as far as she possibly could, straining and groaning as she forced the breath out of Ms. Betty's black body.
Ms. Betty didn't dare say that this trussing up was becoming painful already. Marjorie had this special outfit in mind, and that was exactly what Ms. Betty was to wear, even though it was to become much, much more bizarre than even this.
Marjorie had to brace her foot against Ms. Betty's ass in order to have the leverage she needed for fastening the corset tight enough.
Ms. Betty's waist was now pushed in so that it measured no more than eighteen inches around.
"Ouch. Be careful, man. That's my waist you're cinching.”
"What's the matter? Isn't it tight enough for you?”
Ms. Betty swooped around and stared hard into Marjorie's eyes.
Marjorie didn't say a thing. She didn't dare. It was still a close battle between the two. It was a battle of wits and strengths. It was almost as if Ms. Betty was allowing Marjorie Lloyd to dominate her. For what reason, only she knew.
Perhaps she had a reason, and that was why Marjorie shut up after being stared down by the dark woman. She shut up, but she didn't relent on the uniform. The waist stayed cinched at eighteen inches.
This was followed by a special bra.
"I had this made in Paris," Marjorie told her. "I've been saving it for the right person, and you seem to be that person.”
She was looking at Ms. Betty's breasts as she said this. The breasts were large enough to fill this bra. The bra was suited for a woman with a forty inch bust, at least, and so Ms. Betty, with forty inches on top and an eighteen inch waist, was ready to look like an hour glass with her hips making the third curve.
"Just close your eyes and I'll slip the bra on your tits," Marjorie told her.
Ms. Betty gave Marjorie quite a look. It was enough to tell her not to try anything that she might regret. She was telling her, with her eyes,- that she was into what was going on. She was aware that her mistress's discipline was getting her off.
But don't go too far. That was definitely implied in her glance. Don't go too far because I can give it right back to you.
Marjorie leaned close to her dark slave woman as she placed the bra around the melon-like globes of breast flesh.
Ms. Betty, putting her trust in her mistress, closed her eyes.
At first she felt nothing unusual as Marjorie slipped the bra on her. Her jugs moved into the large cups. Marjorie snapped the snap in the back and fastened it tightly.
"Ouch," Ms. Betty said once the bra was in place.
"How does it feel?”
"It feels like my tits are on fire!”
"Just the nipples?" asked Marjorie, knowing that they were firm with excitement.
"No, not just the nipples. AH of 'em. Ouch.”
Marjorie laughed.
“That bra will help you do your duties around the house. It won't let you get too relaxed and fall asleep on the job. That way you'll escape a whipping for discipline.”
Ms. Betty snarled. She felt like an animal in this harness.
"What's making it so damn hot on my tits?" she asked.
"It's covered with little pins," Marjorie said, matter-of-factly. "Oh, don't worry. The pins aren't sharp enough to penetrate your tender tit flesh. They'll leave you red, but that's about it. They're very short.”
"Pins! On the inside?”
“That's right. About ten pins inside each bra cup. Just enough to keep you aware of yourself at all times. Your breasts belong to me now. When you're in my charge, your breasts belong to me.”
"You're a ... ”
Ms. Betty stopped herself short. She knew that all Marjorie had to do now was land a hard smack across her chest, and she'd feel those pins much more deeply than she wanted to.
"What was that?" Marjorie asked, raising her voice and her eyebrows at the same time.
"You're a kind employer, Mrs. Lloyd," Ms. Betty said.
"I thought you'd see it that way," Marjorie smiled slyly. She was thrilled that she found someone who appreciated some good discipline.
The next part of the uniform were the garter belts which snapped on the corset. Marjorie brought out a pair of nylon stockings to go with it. The stockings were fishnet stockings with black fishnet designs on them.
"Get those seams straight," Marjorie said picking up a hairbrush which she tapped against her palm threateningly. "I don't want to see them out of place.”
"Neatness is important, Ma'am," Ms. Betty replied meekly, forcing her anger inward.
Marjorie watched as the tall black woman leaned back on a chair and pulled the stockings over her feet and up her shapely legs. She bent down while looking in the wall mirror to make sure that the seams were perfectly straight. When she bent down, her large breasts pushed forward in the bra, causing her to flinch from the pressure of the tiny pins which found her nipples and the flesh around them.
Marjorie saw Ms. Betty's reaction. She was pleased.
The shoes which she picked out for Ms. Betty were spiked heels, of course. They were stacked so high, Ms. Betty nearly fell over, "You'll have to learn to walk in those,” Marjorie insisted.
"You expect to clean your house in these?”
"I expect you to clean my house, fix my toilet, serve me breakfast in bed and do whatever I tell you to do. Why, if I tell you to lick my toes, you'll lick my toes, Ms. Betty. I'll pay you and pay you well for your services, but I require a very special maid for my needs. I've been looking a long time for the proper woman, and you seem to fit the bill. If you want the job and the money, you'll do as I say. Now bend over!”
"W-what?”
"How dare you miss what I said! I said bend over, and I mean it!”
"What for?" Ms. Betty asked.
"For your spanking, of course. You need to be beaten every day. That will keep you in line and they'll be no problems between us. You've just earned yourself an extra five smacks with this hairbrush for asking me questions, though, You'll have to learn to accept what I tell you without question. Either you'll learn, or you'll get tired of being spanked.”
Ms. Betty took a deep breath. She was a .proud woman. She had respect for herself and she knew what oppression was, having experienced it as a young black woman.
But now she was being offered good money for being a personal maid, a personal slave woman. She consoled herself with the money, and with the fact that she had let her mistress know that she was a keg of dynamite. She could explode at any moment if you lit her fuse.
"Come on. Bend over," Marjorie repeated. "Assume the position with your hands on your ankles. Hold on and stay down. Get your rear up, I'll start the count all over again.”
Ms. Betty did as she was told. When she bent over, her black pussy with its dark tangles of pubic hair could be seen below her bronzed ass cheeks. The garters and corset did nothing to hide her private places. She was naked down there.
She wanted to ask Marjorie if she would have to walk around with a naked bush and bare buns all day long. She was afraid of what the answer might be. She knew that Marjorie would be using the brush on her, and probably she wanted her buns bare at all times so that the perfectly formed globes could get the full benefit of the stinging hairbrush, on both the smooth and bristled sides!
"This first ten is just to warm your brown buns up," Marjorie announced.
She raised the brush high in the air in a dramatic gesture. Ms. Betty glanced into the wall mirror and saw Marjorie's arm raised eye with the heavy brush ready to come down on her exposed ass.
She winced before the arm started its downward swing. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see what she was about to feel.
Wham. The brush, smooth side down, landed on her ass globes. It hit both sides at once.
Wham, wham, wham.
In quick succession, she received blow after blow. She got all ten real fast. By the time Marjorie was finished, it felt as if there was a fire back there.
Ms. Betty remained an obedient slave, keeping her hands tightly around her ankles. She remained in the position until Marjorie gave her permission to rise.
Her rest period was brief indeed.
"That was just the warm up," Marjorie repeated. "Assume the position and we'll start with the punishment.”
Ms. Betty grabbed her ankles again. She bent down. Her brown ass cheeks were now red. Her big butt was raised high in the air. It was a strain on her since her waist was tied so tightly. Her black-furred pussy was juicing.
She had to brace her strong body as best she could. The impact of Marjorie's wallops was enough to knock her off her feet. Those high heels didn't give much support.
As for the bra, the pins inside of it stuck her tender breasts with every blow of the brush. The impact of the ass beating coursed through her entire body, and she was sure that the pressure of the pins was making her nipples as red as her ass.
Probably because the tan cheeks were already sore, the next series of smacks with the brush seemed much harder than the first.
Silently, Ms. Betty was counting the hits, but they came so fast and so furiously, that she lost count. Marjorie started on the left globe and then moved to the right. Then she smacked both globes at once, landing the brush on the crack.
Each time, Ms. Betty felt the stinging smacks and felt the pins in her breasts, as well. She had been beaten up by angry boyfriends in the past, but this woman seemed to know exactly what to do to bring her to the heights of agony.
"Just keep that position," the mistress warned the slave.
Ms. Betty had all she could do to keep her ass up and her knees straight and her hands around her ankles. Her face was red with strain and tears started to roll down her cheeks. She watched the tears splash off the shiny patent leather of the spiked heels. She could almost see her humbled reflection in the toes of the shoes.
Finally, just when she thought she could stand it no longer, the punishment stopped. It felt as if she wouldn't be able to sit down for a week. She felt her big ass cheeks throbbing.
"Alright, you can get up now," Marjorie said.
Ms. Betty stood up and immediately put her hands, behind her. She cupped the throbbing globes in her hands. She could feel the heat burning off each cheek.
"How does it feel?" Marjorie asked.
Rather than risk another beating for giving a nasty answer, the chastised maid thanked Marjorie, and told her that she felt better for having been punished and put in her place.
It was an appropriate answer. But it wasn't enough to stop Marjorie.
"Alright then, back in position for the rest of it.”
Ms. Betty was stunned. She certainly had believed that the beating was over. Her cheeks were flame red. She was sure that they would sore and lumpy for days.
"Hurry up. You've got the final five to take.”
Five more!
She reluctantly bent over. She stuck her ass up. Then she stood up again.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Lloyd. I just can't take any more.”
Had she spoken harshly to Marjorie, or threatened to spank her in return, she might have assumed her power again. But Marjorie was in command now.
"Get over!" she said sternly. Ms. Betty cowered and bent over. The fine line she had been balancing on seemed, for the moment, at least, to have disappeared. She was a slave.
"Now, you'll count out your final five whacks, thanking me for each and every one and begging for the next one.”
"Yes, Ma'am," the beautiful woman said, bending over and grabbing her ankles.
There was a moment of deadly silence. Ms. Betty gritted her teeth in anticipation of the worst. She was already so sore, and she knew that Marjorie would probably give extra power behind these last five.
Marjorie teased the black maid, running the smooth side of the brush across the expanses of ass globes. They cheeks, once smooth and unmarked except for one dark beauty mark on the left globe, were now welted with the imprint of the brush.
She took her time before smacking the girl, raising the brush and starting to bring it down many times as a tease. Several times, feeling the breeze as the brush started to descend, Ms. Betty flinched.
But when the real spanking started, she knew it!
Whack!
"Ohhhhh!" she moaned.
It was harder than she expected. It felt like dozens of needles, just like in her bra. That was because for the final five strokes of this punishment, Marjorie was giving Ms. Betty the bristled side of the brush.
"T-thank you, Ma'am," Ms. Betty stammered. "That was number one. May I have another one, please?”
"Do you think you deserve another one?”
"Y-yes, Ma'am.”
“A hard one?”
"A hard one, Ma'am.”
"With the stiff bristles?”
Ms. Betty gulped. "With the stiff bristles, Ma'am,”
Whack!
"Oohhhhhhhh!”
Poor Ms. Betty was holding back the tears. She was sore.
"Two, Ma'am. Thank you Ma'am. May I have another one, please?”
"Yes, you may.”
Marjorie raised the brush and gave Ms. Betty another one.
She had no mercy, she didn't care about the pain she was causing. Nothing mattered .but the feeling. Another blow landed right on her ass. The two cheeks sort of closed around the invading bristles.
"Thank you, Ma'am," Ms. Betty forced herself to say. Her ankles were red from the pressure she was exerting to keep her hands firmly around them.
"Well?"' Marjorie asked harshly. There was too long a pause for her taste, although as far as the punished maid was concerned, the pause was not at all long enough.
"Three, Ma'am. Thank you. May I have another one, Ma'am?”
Marjorie raised the brush. She was about to smack the bare behind of the corseted maid when the door opened, catching both the maid and the mistress in a state of shock.
It was Marjorie's husband, Corbett Lloyd. He had taken the afternoon off because he'd been concerned about his wife's welfare. He thought that she was under a lot of personal pressure. But now, he saw quite clearly, that she had found a way of expelling that pressure.
She was delivering it into the ass of her maid!