Embrace It

Part 3

Not for those under 18 (or whatever the legal age for this sort of stuff is in your area). If you’re not that old, Boo! Go away now. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of sexual activities, especially non-consensual ones, then don’t read this. All characters and situations are fictional.

Copyright 2025 greyscribbler@yahoo.com

Archived on the Read Only Mind web site by permission of the author. This story may be downloaded for personal archiving as long as this notice is retained.

Carefully, Kaitlyn drew the cleaning cloth along the shelf, her breath hitching. Her knees trembled. She made another swipe, careful to catch all the dust.

Her knees trembled again.

It was no surprise, with every swipe there was a phantom touch at her pussy, like a delicate finger tracing its length.

It felt so good.

Well, to be honest, it didn’t feel that way with every swipe. Sometimes it was just a pulse of arousal, warm and hot and wet. Sometimes it was like there were fingers caressing her breasts. Or teasing her nipples. Sometimes, just sometimes, if she was very lucky, it felt like one of those fingers was on her clit, leaving Kaitlyn drowning in the sensations.

She was close, so close, teetering on the edge.

She paused in her cleaning. She wouldn’t cum. Mustn’t cum. Somehow she knew that.

Why not? It felt so good. She was so close. She could run to her room. Fling herself on her bed. Or just stand there and reach under her skirt. Use her own hands in place of those phantom fingers. Bring herself off in glorious, blistering pleasure.

Kaitlyn paused for a moment, her eyes flicking to the door of her room. It wouldn’t take long. God, she was so close. Maybe it would take just one touch from her fingers. One little touch. Just there and she’d be cumming and cumming and cumming.

It’s not like it was that long since she’d last cum. Last night. In her bed. She’d cum so hard.

Thinking of all the cleaning she’d done.

Was there something wrong with that? Why would she get off thinking of that? But cleaning turned her on so much. It always had. Had it? Wasn’t that weird?

Just as weird as what she was wearing.

Kaitlyn’s eyes dropped from her door to her own body. To the shiny black high heels she was wearing. The black stockings. To her black skirt, its lacy white frill, the skirt so short that just maybe it showed the tops of the stockings, the charters that held them up. The little apron on the skirt. The matching top, the neckline so low and the lacy edging. The little white lace wrist bands. And while she couldn’t see them, she could feel the black satin choker around her neck and the matching bow in her hair.

She looked like some sick fantasy.

“How?” she frowned, looking at her friend, Lauren.

Why was Lauren dressed like that? Lauren wasn’t dressed like her, but her friend never dressed like she was now. Lauren always favoured something casual, unless she was going out for something special. And even then, even if she wore a short dress. It was something well, normal. Not what she had on now. Lauren was wearing a pink dress, lacy and cute and her heels were so high and her lipstick so pink and…

Lauren never wore lipstick like that.

“Why are you…?”

It was Lauren’s turn to frown, the blonde glancing down at herself. Her mouth opened, as if she was trying to form words. She looked at Kaitlyn.

Kaitlyn looked at her.

“I don’t…” Lauren managed.

Something drained out of the blonde’s eyes.

“We need to read the message from the professor.” Lauren said that. Kaitlyn realised that she’d said it to.

“Do…?” Kaitlyn wasn’t sure which of them had asked that.

“We need to read the message from the professor.” They were staring at each other. Lauren’s eyes were so empty. Kaitlyn wondered if hers were that empty, too.

“I…?”

“We need to read the message from the professor.” The two friends stood there, in those outfits. Kaitlyn wasn’t worrying about the clothes anymore. She didn’t need to be concerned about how she looked. Lauren’s voice was so flat and empty.

Kaitlyn’s was too.

“We need to read the message from the professor.” The words tore at Kaitlyn, beating her down, seeping into her mind.

“We need to read the message from the professor,” they repeated again.

Something about the words made sense. There was such a force to them. Nothing else mattered. Not her worries about what they were wearing. Not her urgent, desperate need to cum.

“We need to read the message from the professor.”

She did.

She would.

As one the two girls turned. Away from each other. Not worrying about the other girl. Barely registering that she was there. The other girl wasn’t important.

What she had to do was.

Kaitlyn sat in front of her computer.  Brought up her messages. She knew which message she had to read. She didn’t know how. It didn’t matter. There were lines, forming a shape, a shape that pushed everything out of her head except the need to watch the screen and just listen…

Kaitlyn rose from her chair, turned her computer off. She didn’t remember how she’d got there or what she’d been doing. It didn’t matter.

She had to clean. And latter prepare lunch for her and her friend. And clean up after lunch. That was what she had to do. And after that she’d work on her project. It was important.

Cleaning, cooking, tidying, it all turned her on so much.

Of course it did.

It always had.

Her first sexual memory was tidying her room at home.

And the clothes she was wearing felt so right. Sexy and cute and just right for a maid. God, she was so lucky to be doing this project. Why had she never thought of getting clothes like this before? Cleaning in them, acting like a maid in them, turned her on so much. God, one little touch would…

No. It wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be proper. Maids cleaned and tidied and cooked and took care of things. They didn’t get themselves off while they were doing that.

Kaitlyn did frown a little, just then. Her project was about sexual stereotypes. And she was acting the part of a sexy maid. So shouldn’t she get off sometime?

It was something she’d look up after lunch. If a girl was playing at being a sexy maid, when did she get off? That should be part of her report. For now, Kaitlyn had cleaning to do.

And seeing just how close to the edge she could get without toppling over.

“You look good,” Kaitlyn said, glancing over her shoulder as she cleaned some of her shelves. Her friend did look good. There was nothing wrong with what Lauren was wearing. How could there be? It was for the project.

“Thanks,” Lauren said. It was nice to hear someone else say that she looked good. She thought that she did, but the confirmation helped. More than that, she felt good. It was almost a relief, being able to match what she wore on the outside with her lingerie.

She’d worn such naughty frilly things for so long, hiding them away. Hadn’t she? Of course she had.

And now she could match it with the clothes she wore. It felt so right. The dress wasn’t that short. It almost reached her knees. Well, maybe it wasn’t quite that long. But so what? Lots of girls wore dresses this short. Or shorter. And her heels weren’t that high. Three inches wasn’t that high, was it? But the dress was pink and had a lovely lacy hem and maybe, just maybe it was something that a bimbo would wear. It felt so good to wear it.

It looked pretty.

Why does that matter…?

The thought died. Had never been there.

Her outfit looked pretty.

Lauren liked that.

Kaitlyn looked happy too. And other things, which Lauren didn’t want to think about too much. Even if she could see the flush in her friend’s cheeks. The way the brunette’s free hand fluttered over her chest. The little quivers that ran through her as she brushed and swept and cleaned. Lauren knew what all that meant. What her friend was feeling. She didn’t want to think about it too hard. It was her friend’s secret.

Lauren wouldn’t talk about it.

But she knew.

She had other things to worry about. Even if the dress and the heels and the little bit of makeup did make her feel so good.

Lauren glanced at the door.

She felt so nervous.

“I need to go out,” she said.

“You do,” Kaitlyn agreed.

“I’ve got a class.”

“You don’t want to miss it.”

“No, I don’t.”

It should be so easy. She’d done it hundreds of times before. Left through that door. Gone to class.

Hundreds of times.

But never like this. Dressed like this.

It wasn’t like buying the clothes. That had been easy. Professor Mackenzie had given her a credit card. Told her to go spend. It had been fun. Trying on the clothes. Kaitlyn, there helping.

Kaitlyn had been so helpful.

Almost like a…

Even if other people had seen her, shop assistants, other customers, it hadn’t mattered. It had been like she was playing dress-ups, mucking about.

This was real.

She’d see people she knew. People who knew her.

She had to do this.

“You need to get going,” Kaitlyn said.

It was alright for Kaitlyn, Lauren thought ruefully. She only dressed in her maid’s outfit in their rooms. And even if it did, well, that to her friend, no-one else knew but Lauren.

And Professor Mackenzie.

There was nothing wrong with the professor knowing. Something told Lauren that.

But that was all. No-one else knew. What Kaitlyn wore. What cleaning made her feel. No-one. Lauren had to go outside. In this underwear. Well, she’d always done that. But in this outfit. That was showing so much of her body. That was so sexy. That made her look like such a stereotype. But that was the point, wasn’t it? That was what she was studying. And she needed to understand how it felt.

Professor Mackenzie had suggested it.

Professor Mackenzie only made good suggestions.

It was for the project.

Lauren had to do the project.

Lauren wasn’t sure which was the worst. Maybe it was the wolf-whistles and the crude comments she received. Or they maybe they weren’t so bad. She could ignore those.

Maybe the comments from her friends were worse.

“What are you wearing?” was the least of them.

And the looks of disbelief slipping into disdain.

She couldn’t tell them it was for a project. They wouldn’t understand. So she had to tell them it was just that she felt like a change. They shook their heads and rolled their eyes. And one of them asked if she really wanted to look that girlie. But then the conversation moved on to other things and it wasn’t so bad.

Maybe she could keep wearing things like this. The dress wasn’t that short and the heels weren’t that high.

At least, that’s what Lauren told herself.

After finishing all her chores, Kaitlyn sat in front of her computer. She was still wearing her maid’s dress. Why not? She loved wearing it and she was still working. So she could keep wearing it. Especially as she as working on her project. She had something to look up. For her project. If a girl was wearing a sexy French maid outfit, when did she get to cum?

God, she wanted to cum. She was so turned on. So close. But she couldn’t. Not until she knew.

Unfortunately for Kaitlyn, there wasn’t any simple answer to her question. Some people wore the outfits for a bit of sexy fun with their partner. I bet they get to cum whenever they want, the brunette thought sourly. But they weren’t really being maids. They were just-play acting. They often didn’t do any actual cleaning. Kaitlyn struggled to understand that. But she made herself think about it. For her project.

If that’s what they want to do, fine. It wasn’t for her. She loved to clean.

And then there were the ones who were so provocative. Seductive. But a real maid shouldn’t be so forward. Kaitlyn added a word to her search. Submissive.

Her breath caught, her thighs clenching together as she read. How a submissive does what they’re told. And then she found things about how maids could be submissive. It was all about authority and servitude. Obeying. And yes, there were things about boundaries and consent. And that was useful for her project and Kaitlyn could see the point. Maybe boundaries were a good thing. But within those boundaries she could be told what to do, like a good maid. To clean and serve and kneel and God that was so hot, her thighs clenching tighter and the need to cum so pressing. Sometimes submissive maids were told not to cum. If she was a maid, then she could be told not to cum and she wouldn’t and maybe that was the hottest thing of all. She could be told to wait. To let someone else decide when she came. Kaitlyn told herself that it wasn’t something she really wanted. Giving control over something that personal to someone else. But the idea was just so hot. She could fantasise about it, the idea turning her on even more.

Not that she’d cum now. However much she wanted it.

She had her project to work on.

A few days later the two roommates looked at each other over breakfast. “We need to see the professor again.” Neither girl was sure which of them said that. Maybe they both had. It didn’t matter.

It was true. They had to see the professor.

They weren’t really sure why. The professor hadn’t asked them for another report. But they had to see her. “We should go.” They both definitely said that.

“You should dress like that,” Kaitlyn said. Lauren was wearing a dress again, white this time. She’d been looking more into what bimbos wore. Some of their dresses were so skimpy and tight and she’d thought about getting some more of those.

There’d been a message from the professor.

She had bought more clothes. Lacy and oh-so-cute. Some of them so tight and revealing. This one was a little white thing with a gauze overlay embroidered with butterflies. It made her so happy to wear it. And white stockings and white kitten toed heels.

And sexy lingerie underneath.

It felt so good.

“What are you going to wear?” Lauren asked.

Kaitlyn frowned. It was a reasonable question. It was easy for Lauren. Lauren could wear a dress like that. Heels like that. Maybe her friend should wear things like that all the time. Huh? The worry vanished. If Lauren wanted to wear pretty clothes all the time, then there was nothing wrong with that. It was for the project, after all. It didn’t tell Kaitlyn what she should wear. She couldn’t wear her maid’s outfit. Not outside of their rooms She knew that. But she had to wear something.

“I’ll wear my choker,” Kaitlyn replied. It might look a bit odd with her jeans and top, but she could wear it. Something of her maid’s outfit.

A flush of arousal spread through the brunette at the thought.

“That’ll be good.” Was it Lauren who said that.

“It’ll be right.” Maybe that was Kaitlyn.

“We should go.” That was both of them.

“How has the project been going, girls?”

Lauren didn’t object to the professor calling her a girl anymore. It felt right for her to be called that. It let her get more into the mindset of a bimbo. She was doing ethnography, even if she had to struggle for a moment to form the word in her mind.

So she should be called a girl.

And if she liked it, just a little bit, she wasn’t going to think about that.

“Good,” Lauren replied. “I think I’m really starting to understand. It doesn’t matter what people think, it’s just looking how you want. Doing what you want.”

“Yeah!” Kaitlyn interrupted, then peered meekly at the professor before being given the signal to continue. “It’s really helped my understanding actually doing cleaning dressed as a maid. It’s so different to just reading about something. I can see how valuable research like this is.”

“That’s good, girls,” the professor smiled. She’d almost said ‘good girl’. Lauren had read how a bimbo would sometimes be called a good girl. It was demeaning, but something about it was so appealing. Like rubbing herself against a hand. Sinking into it.

“You should keep working that way. But we need to think about another part of the project as well.”

“We do?” Kaitlyn asked, half-frowning as if she was struggling to think about the professor’s words.

“Yes,” Professor Mackenzie nodded benignly. “We do. Remember, this project isn’t just about studying these stereotypes. Understanding them. Experiencing them.” It was Lauren’s turn to frown for a moment. She didn’t remember that last part being part of the original description. But it was what she was doing now.

It was so much fun.

“It’s also about reclaiming these stereotypes. For women.”

Lauren really did frown now. Wasn’t that what they were doing? It wasn’t like she was wearing these clothes for anyone else. It was just for herself, wasn’t it? And she was enjoying it. Wasn’t that reclaiming it? And wasn’t Kaitlyn enjoying what she was doing? Maybe the cleaning did help Lauren as well, but it wasn’t like she was making Kaitlyn do it and she certainly didn’t want to know how Kaitlyn felt. That was nothing to do with her and…

“What do you mean, Professor Mackenzie?’ Kaitlyn asked, interrupting Lauren’s drifting thoughts.

“These stereotypes are usually the subject of men’s fantasies,” the professor explained.  “Women dressing up for men’s pleasure. You need to think what else is possible.”

Lauren frowned again. Beside her she heard Lauren started to speak. “But-”

The professor cut that off. “You should look at the screen.”

(To be continued)