The Cleaner

Amy Flanagan


Lisa had an unusual occupation.  She cleaned people’s houses – nothing unusual there, you might think – but her gimmick was that she did it dressed as a saucy French maid.  As she was young and very pretty, with an excellent figure, her services were highly popular with men and even with some women, and she had a flourishing business.  Other women had their doubts about her, especially those with husbands who were at home during the day.

One day, she went to the house of a new client.  She got off the bus and walked down a pleasant road of neat semi-detached houses with well-tended front gardens, carrying a large bag with her cleaning tools.  Although it was a warm day, she was wearing a knee-length coat, hiding all of her sexy outfit other than the lower part of her black seamed stockings, not wishing to attract too much attention by flaunting the outfit in public.  Locating the right house, she paused to change from her low-heeled shoes into black shiny shoes with toweringly high stiletto heels.  Then she went up and rang the bell.

After a short pause, the front door opened.  There stood a tall, distinguished-looking man with a grey beard and neatly trimmed hair, wearing a suit and tie.  Lisa held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Lisa …” she began.

The man ignored her hand and waved her in.  “Yes, I’m Professor Rogers,” he said.  “Maybe you could start in the front room?”

Lisa removed her coat, revealing a black dress copiously trimmed with white lace.  It had long sleeves but an extremely short skirt.  It was cut low in the front, allowing her new client to see her cleavage, which was emphasised by a suitable bra.  The professor looked her up and down, but his face remained impassive.  “This way,” he said, ushering her into a room.  It had a sofa with two matching armchairs, and the walls were covered in bookshelves.

In an ornate silver frame on one shelf was a photo of the professor and a woman wearing the uniform of a senior police officer.  “Is that your wife?”, she asked.  He nodded, but he showed no sign of wanting to have a conversation.

The room was very clean already, but Lisa made every effort to make it tidy and spotless. She dusted all the books and took pains to ensure that they were all exactly aligned on the front edge of the shelves.  Raising her arms to reach the upper shelves lifted her hem high enough to show that she was wearing stockings and suspenders.  She crawled around on her hands and knees with a dustpan and brush.  When she was facing towards the professor, he could have looked far down her cleavage.  When she faced the other way, he would have seen her suspenders very clearly.  When she raised her bottom, he would even have been able to see her panties, and he would surely have noticed that they, like her dress, were black and trimmed with white lace.  Whatever he saw or didn’t see, his face remained quite inscrutable.

Finally, after she left the room his face broke into a wide smile.  Yes, he thought, that girl is certainly very suitable.

Once she had finished downstairs, Lisa went upstairs and found three bedrooms and a bathroom.  The first bedroom she entered was obviously little used.  Under the bed was a wooden box.  She pulled it out so that she could clean under the bed.  For some reason, curiosity got the better of her and she opened it.  The contents baffled her.

On top was what looked like the helmet from a suit of armour, except that it was made of shiny black leather.  Next to it was a red rubber ball with two leather straps attached.  Under them were an assortment of chains and straps.  Lisa rapidly decided that this was none of her business, and she shut the box.

Eventually, she finished cleaning the house.  The professor paid her, his face as impassive as ever, and arranged for her to come at the same time the following week.

* * * *

A week later, Lisa duly arrived at the same time as before.  This time, a woman opened the door.  Although the woman was dressed casually in a sweater and jeans, Lisa immediately recognised her from the photo as Mrs. Rogers.  Again, she held out her hand, but the woman just glared at her.

“You’re a nosy little parker, aren’t you?  I saw the box was moved, and your fingerprints were on the catches so you must have opened it,” she snarled.  “Well, now you’ll find out what the box is for.  Follow me.”

Frightened, Lisa followed the woman up to the bedroom.  On the bed was a sheet covered in typing.  “Now, read that sheet and do exactly what it says.”

Lisa started to read it and her jaw dropped in amazement.  “I can’t … I mean, I refuse, you can’t make me …”  Her voice trailed off in confusion.

“Do you know who I am?  Do as you’re told, or you’ll be arrested for soliciting for prostitution or whatever else I can think of,” the woman said coldly.  Lisa was shocked, but she realised that it would be very hard to prove her innocence if a senior police officer wanted to frame her.  Reluctantly, she followed the first instruction; she took off her coat, revealing her sexy outfit, and carried the coat out of the room.  She came back in and started reading the sheet again.

As instructed, she took out the box from under the bed and removed several items from it: the leather helmet, the rubber ball with straps, a sponge ball, four chains (each with a leather strap at each end), two large crocodile clips and a vibrator.  She fastened a chain to each of the four corners of the bed.  She pushed the sponge into her mouth; it filled her mouth completely, and her cheeks bulged.  She forced the rubber ball between her teeth; it was so big that to do so she had to open her jaw painfully wide.  When the ball was right in, her teeth closed a bit, trapping the ball.  Once she had buckled the straps tightly behind her head, there was no way that she would be able to push out the ball with her tongue, and she was gagged very effectively.

Things were getting worse.  As instructed, she took off her dress and her matching bra and panties, leaving her wearing only her stockings, suspenders and stilettos.  Lying on the bed, she spread her legs very wide and fastened straps from the chains around her ankles, pulling the straps until they bit into her.  She had never felt so exposed in her life.  Putting one of the clips on her left nipple, she cried out as the sharp teeth bit into her tender flesh, but the gag completely muffled the sound.  The same happened as she put the other clip on her other nipple.

She covered her head in the hood; the smell of leather was overwhelming.  She closed the zip at the back.  The helmet covered her head tightly, blocking out all the light.  She breathed with difficulty through two small holes.  Lying down and groping in the dark, she fastened a strap around her right wrist, pulling it as tight as she could, leaving only her left arm free. Locating the vibrator, she pressed the base against her body, turning it on.  Then she plunged it into herself between her legs.

Lisa was no stranger to the use of a vibrator, and despite her grotesque circumstances she soon brought herself to the brink of an orgasm.  However, just before she went over the top, the vibrator was snatched out of her grasp and then she was punched hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her.  Gasping for breath through her nose, she felt her orgasm totally ruined by the pain.  Someone grabbed her left arm and fastened a strap around her wrist, leaving her spread-eagled and completely helpless.  Someone yanked the clips off her nipples and then slapped her breasts, causing her a lot of pain.  Again, the very effective gag almost silenced her outcry.

“An excellent performance for a first-timer, young lady,” came Mrs. Rogers’ voice, sounding much gentler.  “We have that all on video.  Now, you just stay there and be good until it’s time to send you home.”

She had it on video!  First-timer!  What on earth had Lisa got herself into?  She struggled a bit, but rapidly realised that her bondage, mostly self-administered, was inescapable.  What would happen to her next?

She lay there until she lost all track of time.  Eventually, she felt the straps around her wrists being unbuckled.  “Right, you can remove your hood,” said a male voice, no the Professor's. Lisa did so gladly.  Blinking at the sudden light, she saw a young policeman beside the bed – a very good-looking  man, she thought.  She realised that she was naked and exposed to him, and she blushed.  She couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to meet a handsome hunk like him in better circumstances.

“I’m to take your clothes and stuff back to your flat,” he explained.  “You have to wear these for your walk home.”  He pointed to a tutu and bandeau top on a chair next to the bed.  “Now, I’ll leave you to get dressed.”  He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Slowly, Lisa removed the gag.  Pulling out the ball and sponge was an immense relief.  She freed her ankles and stood up shakily.  There was no sign of her own clothes, so she pulled the tutu over her waist and then pulled the bandeau over her head, adjusting it over her breasts.  The bandeau was quite narrow, barely covering her breasts.  It was also quite tight and of thin material.  Although her nipples were not hard, their outline was clearly visible. The tutu was short and stuck out, so of course her stocking tops and suspenders were easily visible.  She was acutely aware that she was not wearing panties.

She left the room and walked downstairs.  Mrs. Rogers was standing in the hall.  She pointed to the front door.  “Go home,” she said.

“But please, I need my purse, so I can get the bus,” pleaded Lisa.  “It’s a very long walk.”

“You’re young and fit; you’ll manage it,” came the slightly annoyed reply.

“Anyway, surely you don’t expect me to go through the streets dressed like this.  And at least give me my other shoes.  These ones aren’t intended for long walks.”

Mrs. Rogers glowered and opened the door.  Frightened, Lisa scampered out.  The door slammed behind her.  Although it was a warm day, Lisa started shivering.

It was indeed a long walk home.  Lisa received all sorts of looks from passers-by; some were startled, some disapproving, others lascivious.  She kept her hands on the tutu, holding it down to hide her knickerless state, although it was too short to conceal her stocking tops. She wished she had some way to cover her breasts better.  Soon her feet were aching from walking in her towering stilettos.  She had to compromise between going as fast as possible to get home quickly and not going too fast so as to reduce the pain in her feet.

But eventually she turned into the road where her flat was.  She saw that there was a police van parked outside.  Next to it stood two policemen, but neither of them was the handsome one she had seen before.  A pity, she thought, as she had hoped to meet him again.  As she reached the van, one of the men said, “Please turn around and place your hands behind your back.”  Startled, she did so, and was handcuffed.

The other man pulled a hood over her head, blindfolding her completely.  Draw cords were pulled, tightening it around her neck.  She panicked.  “Nothing to worry about,” he said.  “It’s just a guard to stop you spitting at us.”  Lisa was bundled into the police van.  She was put on a seat and strapped down.  The door slammed shut and she heard the engine start.


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