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Au Pair Girl
by Satan_Klaus
Mf, Md, ds, slavery, humiliation, fetish, serious, toys, lactation
© 2005 by Satan_Klaus
I want to express my gratitude to my excellent editors: Abe Froman and Automagix.
Without them, this story would not have been possible.
This story may be distributed freely for non-commercial purposes.
If you have questions, suggestions or general praise, email me at
Be warned: This story is more severe than my usual writing and not for the faint of heart.
Now enjoy!
Au Pair Girl
An au pair is expected to do light housework for her host family. Light housework like dusting,
laying the table and doing the dishes, nothing more. Little Marie is struggling with even those
simple chores, however. I must admit that the circumstances are not optimal for her, but I
think I’m in my right to demand that she performs her duties to my satisfaction. After all she
is staying at my house with free board and room and she even gets a little allowance. Not that
she gets to go outside often but if she has been a good girl, I will pick up her things on my
way home; a book, some chocolate or even stamps for a letter home. It’s the little things that
keep a girl happy.
I can’t see how she is going to earn her little reward this morning, however. It’s 8.35 already
and the breakfast is not on the table yet. I expect my breakfast at 8.30 so there is enough time
for a quick inspection of the house before I leave for work.
She knows that she is running late, I can see it at her trembling little steps. Walking in 4”
heels without spilling what you are carrying is not easy but she sure has had enough time to
practice. The heels only come off at night, the short period from 12pm to 5am where she is
allowed to rest. Little padlocks on the straps make sure there is no cheating.
She gives a little cry of surprise as I smack her lovely behind. Not hard, mind you, just
patronizing. She should be used to the occasional “love pat” by now, it’s how I show my
affection. Still, she spills a little of the coffee she is serving on the silver tray.
It’s the second cup she has spilled this morning and I’m running out of patience. It shouldn’t
be so difficult to serve a cup of coffee, even with your wrists chained to your nipples.
Her homemaking skills may be dismal, but I still don’t regret my decision to take her into the
household. She may lack the grace of a well-trained domestic but she makes up with her
innocent beauty. She is a thin girl, almost frail, but well formed. Long, slim legs end in small,
girlish buttocks that invite to be kneaded or spanked. Her breasts are small but perky with
very prominent nipples. I think the piercing and constant fresh air has done them a lot of good.
Usually I like my girls to have a more voluptuous figure but I made an exception for Marie,
she is just exquisite, and there is still time for natural growth. You see little Marie is only 16,
a tender age for a girl under my care. I think it was her face that won me over; light brown
hair framing a fresh, youthful face with lively hazel brown eyes. I just love those eyes,
cheerful and happy, teary or sad, fearful and anxious; they always sparkle like little stars
beckoning to me.
She is wearing a classic French maid uniform, complete with a lace cap and apron. Well,
classic except for the fact that it shows her nipples through the heart shaped openings. This
little inconsistency is absolutely necessary, however. You see, the cuffs on her wrists are
attached to a pair of thin steel-wire cables that run through her nipple rings. The cables run all
the way down her body, through the navel ring, the clit ring and down to her ankle cuffs. If
she is standing or walking, the cables are pulled downwards so that her wrists rest against her
nipples. There is just enough slack so that she can hold a tray or use the feather duster. To
serve at the table she has to kneel down and sit on her haunches. The closer her ankles are to
her little pussy, the more slack she has to move her hands around. It is a very convenient
arrangement because it allows her to do most household chores but quells the little temper
tantrums that plague her from time to time.
Sometimes she forgets about this clever arrangement and tries to get up without returning her
hands to their resting place on her tits first. Oh you should see her face twist in agony as the
cables are pulled taut and yank on her nipples and clit.
Kneeling at my side, she struggles to place the cup of steaming black coffee on the table edge.
It is just a personal expression of style but I prefer classical furniture over this low,
newfangled Japanese junk that is all the rage with the newly rich these days. Marie would
certainly prefer it too, just because she could reach over it without putting too much strain on
her clit and exquisitely stretched nipples. Kids these days just don’t appreciate the beauty of a
tall, century old oak table.
As Marie drops back down on her haunches she emits a low moan around her gag. I told her
before, and I tell her again as I hit her repeatedly with the rolled up morning paper that I don’t
appreciate it when she disturbs my deserved peace and quiet in the morning.
I slowly sip my coffee, skimming over the business part while little Mary kneels at my side,
sobbing quietly. I shake my head in disapproval at this invasive expression of feelings. Why
can’t she just respect my personal space, the chain is certainly long enough for her to be
sobbing elsewhere.
I guess I will let that slide for today, though. I’m not a stickler for rules and I can understand
that she needs a little affection from time to time. After all there is no one around to keep her
company during the day while I’m at work. I finish with my current article and go over to the
next, holding the newspaper so that she can read the funnies. Sometimes that cheers her up a
little.
I affectionately stroke her wonderful honey brown hair. Every evening before bed I brush it
for her to keep it in its perfect, natural beauty. Using the gentle pull of the hairbrush to move
her mouth up and down my penis is a wonderful way for us to share our feelings without too
many overused words.
Little Marie begins to shift under my touch, trying to wipe up the small puddle of drool she
has made during her little crying fit. You see, I’m not angry at her for drooling on the floor,
it’s understandable that she has to drool from time to time because the huge penis gag makes
swallowing a bit difficult for her. I’m just a little sad because I can provide her with the
cleaning utensil she needs and she is soiling her beautiful uniform trying to clean up her mess.
I profess my disappointment with the rolled up newspaper as I pull a piece of paper towel
from my pocket. It’s good to always have some at hand so that she can clean up after herself
properly.
I generously hand her the paper towel and point at the floor but she just stares teary eyed at it.
It takes another four or five swats with the newspaper before she begins to wipe the floor like
I want her to. You see, little Marie has been keeping a diary on those paper towels because
she was afraid that I might notice if she took regular paper from my desk. I guess it is the only
thing that kept her sane for all this time. When I found out I figured, being the
environmentalist that I am, that it was still good to use for its original purpose.
Satisfied with the result of her cleaning activity I turn back to my coffee and newspaper. A
little sip confirms what I have been feeling for some time now.
I pull her up by her hair as far as her strained clitoris allows and take hold of her right nipple,
pulling it over my cup. I like my coffee hot and a quick downward pull lets her feel that I’m
very satisfied with the coffee this morning. It’s still hot and steamy as her little moan of pain
can attest as I dip her nipple into my cup. It’s important to give her this kind of positive
feedback from time to time so that she can go about her work with redoubled effort.
With her hands chained to her nipples she can’t reach the vibrating plug in her ass so I
generously turn it on for her. I think she has earned a little reward and with the plug happily
buzzing away she won’t be bored today. With a little effort she might even get an orgasm out
of it. I think she hasn’t had one since I put that chastity belt on her six months ago.
Now that she knows how much I value the work she is doing, it’s time to get my coffee
recreamed. I begin to stroke her nipple, gently squeezing the scalded tit-flesh. Finally, with
another little moan from behind her gag a little white squirt lands in my cup, followed by
another. Slowly I milk her breast of the little milk she can give, enough for my morning
coffee but certainly not enough for her firstborn child. As you can see it was the sensible thing
to give it away for adoption, especially considering that it was an unplanned teen pregnancy. I
didn’t think she was mature enough to face the challenge of raising a child and I didn’t feel up
to the task either, even though it was my own.
Recreaming my coffee always gets Marie teary eyed and she sinks back to her haunches
crying, rubbing her face against my knees in search for consolation. I take a sip of my freshly
creamed coffee and lovingly stroke her head. I’m very proud of my Marie! She has put her
personal feelings aside and did what I expected of her.
I pat her head patronizingly. Little Marie may not be the smartest or most graceful girl, but
she is learning.
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