"Wanted - Secretary/PA/Maid"
The curious personal ad attracts my attention, making my heart flutter a little. But then I remember I am looking in a quality national newspaper, not some kinky magazine. However, I read on.

"Young (20-35), attractive female sought for private employment by professional couple. Duties include secretarial (typing and mail), personal assistant (diary management) and domestic (cleaning, cooking). Other personal services will be required, and the successful candidate will be on call 24/7. Position is live-in and uniform, plus other required dress, will be provided."

By this time, my hands are shaking and my breathing shallow and rapid. I can't believe what I'm reading! The implication that this is far more than just a secretarial position is overwhelming. Is this the position I have been fantasising about for longer than I care to remember? I swallow hard and try to focus as I read to the end of the entry.

"Salary is XXX per month, paid in advance, with twice times monthly salary at the end of each completed month of service. Serious applicants only, please, send curriculum vitae and recent photograph to the following e-mail address."

I can't believe how much they are paying! They are clearly very wealthy, but this surely confirms that they are looking for something much more interesting than a domestic servant cum office worker! I read the whole thing again, and just get even more excited. I know I have to apply, even if it goes no further than that, but I would kick myself if I didn't at least try!

I edit my CV to emphasise any secretarial work I have done, and describe my experience of domestic duties, albeit just keeping my own house tidy. I read it back three or four times, trying to improve it, then choose one of my photos. I attach them to an e-mail and, holding my breath as my finger hovers over the send button, I have one last think about whether this is a good idea. But then I press send and giggle to myself at how daring I am being.

I watch my inbox impatiently for the next two days before the reply finally arrives. Feeling nervous and terribly excited. I open and read it.


"Ms Harrison, Thank you for your reply to our advertisement. We will interview you via Skype or similar communications medium, enabling us to see you in person. 4 PM tomorrow. Please dress accordingly."

I am rather taken aback by the abruptness of the e-mail, the fixed time without any acknowledgement that it might not be convenient for me, and the instruction on dress code for what is basically a telephone interview. The impression is that they are very controlling, and that thought excites me incredibly. I have a secret fantasy about being controlled, about being submissive, and everything I have seen from these people so far (which is very little, I know nothing about them, not even their names) just fuels my excitement.

It takes me ages to work out what to wear, and in the end I decide to go for simple and professional - a white blouse and a black skirt to just above the knees (even though I know they won't see below the waist anyway. I wait nervously for 4 PM and then, exactly on time, Skype bursts into life and I rush to answer it. As it fires up and my webcam comes on, I realise that they are not sharing their own webcam view. It reinforces the fact that this interview is all about them, assessing me, I will learn very little about them. My needs are not important as far as they're concerned.

The questions come thick and fast, a male and a female voice interchanging, hardly letting me finish one answer before the next question arrives. The tone is sharp, businesslike, almost hectoring, and I become flustered under pressure, feeling my cheeks redden and a little perspiration on my brow. They question everything - my work record, my upbringing, my family, my marriage, my divorce, where I live, who are my friends, my work colleagues, my neighbours. Am I willing to travel, can I cope with being away from everyone I know for a prolonged period of time, the interrogation goes on and on. Eventually, there is a break, silence from the other end, and then another question.

"Are you wearing panties, Ms Harrison?"

I'm stunned! Such a personal, intimate question! Then I remember what I think this is about, and the question doesn't seem so ridiculous, just very embarrassing.

"Y-yes, sir," I stutter, having fallen into the habit of calling them ‘Sir’ and ‘Ma'am’ quite naturally.

"Take them off and show us."

I feel myself blush even more, and I hesitate, but I know I really have no choice. I awkwardly reach up under my skirt and pull my knickers down to my ankles. Feeling deeply ashamed, I hold up my rather old and worn-out undergarment.

"Put them in your mouth."

Oh my God! This time, my surprise and shock at being ordered to do such a thing is overwhelmed by my arousal at being commanded to perform such a disgusting act. Slowly, I bundle the panties into a ball and then, parting my lips, stuff them deep into my mouth. Well, I think, that's pretty much the end of the interview!

"Stand up."

I do is I am told, having realised that they can now see my skirt.

"Turn around and bend over."

I do so, knowing that I am now giving them an excellent view of my arse.

"Stay like that and hitch your skirt up to your waist."

As if in a daze, I pull up the hem of my skirt and expose my bare buttocks to the camera, hardly able to breathe.

"Open your legs."

I feel like some kind of porn star or hooker as I spread my legs, giving them a perfect view of my pussy, which I realise is dripping wet. I wonder if they can see it glistening in the light…

"Thank you, Ms Harrison, we'll be in touch." And with that, they are gone!

It is several excruciating days before I receive an e-mail.


Ms Harrison - you will attend a trial period at our house here in the Netherlands. The trial period will last for two weeks, at which time we may decide to terminate your service, paying you one month’s salary, or to confirm your contract, which will continue immediately. You will receive plane tickets in the post. Please ensure your passport is up to date. You will be met at the airport. Bring the minimum of luggage (hand baggage only) as all your uniform and other clothes will be provided.

Again, the peremptory tone just reinforces my submissive desires, and makes me giddy with excitement. I get everything in order and pack little more than toiletries, make-up, nightwear and fresh underwear. I take the train and a taxi to the airport, more nervous than I have ever been in my life. The flight is crowded with business people, but relatively short. At the airport, I am amazed to see a man holding up a sign with my name on it. I wonder if it is my new employer, but I realise it is not him when he speaks.

He takes me to his car and I sit in the back while he drives me through the city and then out into the country. After maybe an hour or so, he pulls into a private drive, at the end of which is a large country house. I finally realise just how wealthy my new employers are! When I get out of the car, the man drives away without a word, leaving me standing outside the front door.

I think, this is the moment of truth, but in reality that moment came and went a long time ago. With my heart pounding in my chest and having difficulty breathing, I check myself one last time. I am wearing the same white blouse and black skirt as I did during my Skype interview, but I have new, sexy bra and panties on underneath, both pure white.

Taking my courage in both hands, I ring the bell...