The Housekeepers’ Uniform (Part 1 - 01 Jan)
Posted: Wed Jan 01, 2025 5:12 am
Closing the front door behind me as gently as I could, I swapped my outdoor shoes for my indoor ones, set down my bag and silently scooted over to the kitchen to start making breakfast. Even though it was only 07:00 AM, being the height of summer meant the sun had already been up for over an hour, and the cool morning air was quickly giving way to oppressive heat. Decked out in a light polo shirt and netted swim shorts, I was thankful that Ms Rowles didn’t care much for dress codes among her staff, so long as they’re presentable. Little did any of us suspect that, before too long, presentable was the last thing I’d be that day.
I should back up a bit. My name’s Toby, I’m 18, and I’ve been working as a housekeeper to Ms Claudia Rowles for around a year now. I picked up the job after graduating school, not really having any other ideas on what to do with myself. Really, it seems to have worked out very well so far. That she employs a housekeeper would already suggest that Ms Rowles is well off, so the pay is even more generous than I could’ve hoped to find as a fresh graduate with no work experience, but that doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Ms Rowles lives in a four-storey country home a few miles out from my hometown, surrounded by greenery that makes you forget the outside world even exists at times. The place has pretty much everything you’d expect from such a description - quiet gardens, a heated pool, extravagant bedrooms and bathrooms, and a kitchen with a fully stacked pantry. In addition to a salary that’s let me move into a decent flat on my own after just a year of work, all these amenities are available to me pretty much whenever I’m not working, which ends up being more often than you’d expect. Yep, I was pretty satisfied with this job.
Anyway, with breakfast made, I placed it on the dumb waiter before dashing up to the fourth storey and reeling it up after me. Making sure that nothing had spilled, I carefully lifted the breakfast tray off the dumb waiter and made my way into Ms Rowles’ room. The mistake which sealed my fate, innocent and rare as it was, was forgetting to knock beforehand.
“Good morning, Ms Rowles, your breakfast is—OH MY GOD!”
In shock at what I saw, the breakfast tray let from my hands and clattered onto the bedroom floor, spilling jam, cream, tea and various other things across the red carpet. Ms Rowles awoke and immediately sat bolt upright on her bed…naked as the day she was born. She didn’t even have bedcovers, which I soon realised had been discarded to the floor along with her satin nightgown, to clutch for some shred of dignity and decency. Making do with what she had, Ms Rowles’ arms clapped across her breasts almost instantly, while her legs closed to block off any further viewing of her privates. Her face was the picture of surprise, eyes wide in something between shock and indignant anger, her jaw simply hanging open.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Get OUT!”
She didn’t need to tell me twice. Not even stopping to pick up the breakfast tray, I darted out the room as fast as I could manage, almost slamming the door behind me. I didn’t go back downstairs, though - I didn’t dare. Honestly, I wasn’t really sure what to do. I wasn’t even sure if I still had a job in that moment. Ms Rowles had never raised her voice at me before, but then I’d never stumbled upon her wearing any less than two layers before. Even while by the pool, she wore a sarong over her swimsuit. All I could do was stand there and stare at the floor, the image of what I had just seen seared into my mind’s eye.
And what an image it was. Ms Rowles wasn’t about to be mistaken for a young super model, but she wasn’t the typical picture of a middle-aged spinster either. She stood slender at 5’6”, with toned calves and sharp shoulders which framed the skin stretched tightly over her collarbones. Her blue eyes were surrounded by the etchings of subtle crow’s feet, and her platinum grey hair, usually tied in a low messy bun, this morning hung straight down past her shoulders, lightly grazing the tops of her breasts. Those tits, while no more than a B-cup, pointed upwards and outwards at the nipples, giving them a distinct shape. Finally, sitting below a small, yet slightly sagged stomach, was Claudia Rowles’ vagina. At least, I assume there’s one there. What I actually saw was an honest-to-God, fully natural, unpruned bush - the only hair she had which hadn’t greyed.
If I hadn’t been so worried at the possibility of suddenly losing the best job I’d ever have, I’d likely have had a throbbing hard-on to deal with instead. As it was, I remained flaccid and just kept staring at the floor for what felt like an eternity until Ms Rowles opened her bedroom door and leant against its frame, now clad in a silky, emerald green dressing gown and fluffy black slippers. I immediately noticed this was all she was wearing, her discarded nightwear still on the floor with her duvet.
Meeting her eyes, my terror must’ve been plain to see, because the first thing Ms Rowles did was apologise to me. “I’m sorry for snapping at you like that, Toby,” she said soothingly, “I wasn’t expecting to be looking like…well, that when you came in. Last night was unbearably hot, and evidently I ought to have woken up ahead of time to make myself decent before you got here.”
“Actually, Ms Rowles, it was my fault.” I replied, casting my eyes back to the floor in shame. “For some reason it completely slipped my mind to knock.”
Her eyes narrowed at me as her lips pursed. “You don’t say…you also wasted a fresh breakfast and have quite possibly ruined my bedroom carpet.”
“God, I’m so sorry.” I said, panic rising in my voice. “Please don’t fire me. I really love this job and I screwed up but I’ll do better next time and—“
She cut me off. “Silly boy, why would I do that over a single, honest mistake? You do far too good a job here for me to consider that.” I breathed a sigh of relief - too soon. “However,” Ms Rowles continued as she placed her fingers around my chin and lifted my gaze back to hers, “perhaps some corrective action would be appropriate so that you remember not to make another such mistake in the future. And I think I know just the thing.”
Before I had time to process what was happening, she had disappeared back into her bedroom and reappeared a moment later with a bundle of clothing. “Now, I’m not usually one for uniform, but I think today we’ll make an exception. Put these on.” I looked down blankly at the garments that had been thrust in my hand, not even realising what they were, then around the fourth-floor landing, for some other room I knew wasn’t there. “Um, yeah, of course. I’ll just go to one of the bathrooms downstairs and—“
“Ah, ah, ah!” Ms Rowles cut in, as if I were a child caught trying to swipe a cookie from the jar. “Right here will do just fine. You just saw me in the buff, I think it’s only fair that you get a feeling for what that was like for me. Frankly, you’re lucky I’m not making you work without clothes for the day.”
I knew better than to argue. Ms Rowles had already startled me once this morning, I didn’t want to find out what happened if I actually managed to make her angry at me. And so I turned my back to her and undressed myself, folding my clothes and draping them on the bannister as I did so. After my boxers came off, I made sure to keep my legs together to avoid any peeks at my own unmentionables from where Ms Rowles was standing.
I was grateful to not be naked long, but it didn’t last as I became acquainted with my outfit. First was a pair of lacy black briefs. Oof, these were snug. Didn’t leave much to the imagination either, with only the crotch area covered by enough material to obscure what lay underneath. That said, they were old, and I could tell immediately that any kind of elasticity had long since left them. After that, a pair of white, silk stockings, complete with thrills at the top (which reached most of the way up my thighs). Not my style, but I wouldn’t turn my nose up at any coverage right now. But it was with the next item that things finally fell into place. A corset top, in the same style as the briefs. My uniform today was ladies’ lingerie, complemented by the final items of a bow tie and some cuffs.
Now fully dressed, albeit less so than I was before, I felt completely humiliated. I wasn’t particularly masculine to begin with. At times I wasn’t even sure I’d been through puberty. At 18 years old, I was still 5’5”, with relatively moderate change to my boyish facial features, and an almost completely hairless body that was as skinny as a rake, in part thanks to all the cycling between town and Ms Rowles’ home that my job required. If not for my Adam’s Apple dropping and a bit of definition gained in my cheeks and jaw, nobody could be blamed for thinking I was still a boy, and this outfit made me feel all the more childish for it.
Ms Rowles noticed this, and was drinking it in with glee. “Oh well don’t we look just gorgeous.” She said, not even bothering to hide her grin. “That said,” she continued, raising an eyebrow, “I’m surprised at just how well my old lingerie fits you. Especially around here…” She patted on and around my cock and balls a few times with a cupped hand, not a hint of hesitation in her movements. Stunned, all I could do was tense up. She wasn’t wrong though. On top of all my other puberty misfortunes, I had been cursed with minimal growth to my penis, to the point that Ms Rowles’ old panties, while snug, weren’t exactly constraining. For her part, Ms Rowles didn’t make much of this. I don’t know whether she was showing me some kindness or was just being dispassionate. “I haven’t worn this get up since I was…God, not much older than you. Didn’t take me long to realise that I just couldn’t find a man up to my standards.”
Her musings were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. “Ahhh, and that must be Josie! I’ve still got to do my morning routine, so you head downstairs and the two of you can figure what needs doing around the house today. I’ll see you both shortly.”
With the shock of everything else, I’d completely forgotten about Josie. The other housekeeper, a girl the same age as me with whom I’d formed a pretty solid relationship, and one who was about see me dressed in Ms Rowles’ decades-old lingerie. And yet, this would be far from the worst my day would get.
I should back up a bit. My name’s Toby, I’m 18, and I’ve been working as a housekeeper to Ms Claudia Rowles for around a year now. I picked up the job after graduating school, not really having any other ideas on what to do with myself. Really, it seems to have worked out very well so far. That she employs a housekeeper would already suggest that Ms Rowles is well off, so the pay is even more generous than I could’ve hoped to find as a fresh graduate with no work experience, but that doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Ms Rowles lives in a four-storey country home a few miles out from my hometown, surrounded by greenery that makes you forget the outside world even exists at times. The place has pretty much everything you’d expect from such a description - quiet gardens, a heated pool, extravagant bedrooms and bathrooms, and a kitchen with a fully stacked pantry. In addition to a salary that’s let me move into a decent flat on my own after just a year of work, all these amenities are available to me pretty much whenever I’m not working, which ends up being more often than you’d expect. Yep, I was pretty satisfied with this job.
Anyway, with breakfast made, I placed it on the dumb waiter before dashing up to the fourth storey and reeling it up after me. Making sure that nothing had spilled, I carefully lifted the breakfast tray off the dumb waiter and made my way into Ms Rowles’ room. The mistake which sealed my fate, innocent and rare as it was, was forgetting to knock beforehand.
“Good morning, Ms Rowles, your breakfast is—OH MY GOD!”
In shock at what I saw, the breakfast tray let from my hands and clattered onto the bedroom floor, spilling jam, cream, tea and various other things across the red carpet. Ms Rowles awoke and immediately sat bolt upright on her bed…naked as the day she was born. She didn’t even have bedcovers, which I soon realised had been discarded to the floor along with her satin nightgown, to clutch for some shred of dignity and decency. Making do with what she had, Ms Rowles’ arms clapped across her breasts almost instantly, while her legs closed to block off any further viewing of her privates. Her face was the picture of surprise, eyes wide in something between shock and indignant anger, her jaw simply hanging open.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Get OUT!”
She didn’t need to tell me twice. Not even stopping to pick up the breakfast tray, I darted out the room as fast as I could manage, almost slamming the door behind me. I didn’t go back downstairs, though - I didn’t dare. Honestly, I wasn’t really sure what to do. I wasn’t even sure if I still had a job in that moment. Ms Rowles had never raised her voice at me before, but then I’d never stumbled upon her wearing any less than two layers before. Even while by the pool, she wore a sarong over her swimsuit. All I could do was stand there and stare at the floor, the image of what I had just seen seared into my mind’s eye.
And what an image it was. Ms Rowles wasn’t about to be mistaken for a young super model, but she wasn’t the typical picture of a middle-aged spinster either. She stood slender at 5’6”, with toned calves and sharp shoulders which framed the skin stretched tightly over her collarbones. Her blue eyes were surrounded by the etchings of subtle crow’s feet, and her platinum grey hair, usually tied in a low messy bun, this morning hung straight down past her shoulders, lightly grazing the tops of her breasts. Those tits, while no more than a B-cup, pointed upwards and outwards at the nipples, giving them a distinct shape. Finally, sitting below a small, yet slightly sagged stomach, was Claudia Rowles’ vagina. At least, I assume there’s one there. What I actually saw was an honest-to-God, fully natural, unpruned bush - the only hair she had which hadn’t greyed.
If I hadn’t been so worried at the possibility of suddenly losing the best job I’d ever have, I’d likely have had a throbbing hard-on to deal with instead. As it was, I remained flaccid and just kept staring at the floor for what felt like an eternity until Ms Rowles opened her bedroom door and leant against its frame, now clad in a silky, emerald green dressing gown and fluffy black slippers. I immediately noticed this was all she was wearing, her discarded nightwear still on the floor with her duvet.
Meeting her eyes, my terror must’ve been plain to see, because the first thing Ms Rowles did was apologise to me. “I’m sorry for snapping at you like that, Toby,” she said soothingly, “I wasn’t expecting to be looking like…well, that when you came in. Last night was unbearably hot, and evidently I ought to have woken up ahead of time to make myself decent before you got here.”
“Actually, Ms Rowles, it was my fault.” I replied, casting my eyes back to the floor in shame. “For some reason it completely slipped my mind to knock.”
Her eyes narrowed at me as her lips pursed. “You don’t say…you also wasted a fresh breakfast and have quite possibly ruined my bedroom carpet.”
“God, I’m so sorry.” I said, panic rising in my voice. “Please don’t fire me. I really love this job and I screwed up but I’ll do better next time and—“
She cut me off. “Silly boy, why would I do that over a single, honest mistake? You do far too good a job here for me to consider that.” I breathed a sigh of relief - too soon. “However,” Ms Rowles continued as she placed her fingers around my chin and lifted my gaze back to hers, “perhaps some corrective action would be appropriate so that you remember not to make another such mistake in the future. And I think I know just the thing.”
Before I had time to process what was happening, she had disappeared back into her bedroom and reappeared a moment later with a bundle of clothing. “Now, I’m not usually one for uniform, but I think today we’ll make an exception. Put these on.” I looked down blankly at the garments that had been thrust in my hand, not even realising what they were, then around the fourth-floor landing, for some other room I knew wasn’t there. “Um, yeah, of course. I’ll just go to one of the bathrooms downstairs and—“
“Ah, ah, ah!” Ms Rowles cut in, as if I were a child caught trying to swipe a cookie from the jar. “Right here will do just fine. You just saw me in the buff, I think it’s only fair that you get a feeling for what that was like for me. Frankly, you’re lucky I’m not making you work without clothes for the day.”
I knew better than to argue. Ms Rowles had already startled me once this morning, I didn’t want to find out what happened if I actually managed to make her angry at me. And so I turned my back to her and undressed myself, folding my clothes and draping them on the bannister as I did so. After my boxers came off, I made sure to keep my legs together to avoid any peeks at my own unmentionables from where Ms Rowles was standing.
I was grateful to not be naked long, but it didn’t last as I became acquainted with my outfit. First was a pair of lacy black briefs. Oof, these were snug. Didn’t leave much to the imagination either, with only the crotch area covered by enough material to obscure what lay underneath. That said, they were old, and I could tell immediately that any kind of elasticity had long since left them. After that, a pair of white, silk stockings, complete with thrills at the top (which reached most of the way up my thighs). Not my style, but I wouldn’t turn my nose up at any coverage right now. But it was with the next item that things finally fell into place. A corset top, in the same style as the briefs. My uniform today was ladies’ lingerie, complemented by the final items of a bow tie and some cuffs.
Now fully dressed, albeit less so than I was before, I felt completely humiliated. I wasn’t particularly masculine to begin with. At times I wasn’t even sure I’d been through puberty. At 18 years old, I was still 5’5”, with relatively moderate change to my boyish facial features, and an almost completely hairless body that was as skinny as a rake, in part thanks to all the cycling between town and Ms Rowles’ home that my job required. If not for my Adam’s Apple dropping and a bit of definition gained in my cheeks and jaw, nobody could be blamed for thinking I was still a boy, and this outfit made me feel all the more childish for it.
Ms Rowles noticed this, and was drinking it in with glee. “Oh well don’t we look just gorgeous.” She said, not even bothering to hide her grin. “That said,” she continued, raising an eyebrow, “I’m surprised at just how well my old lingerie fits you. Especially around here…” She patted on and around my cock and balls a few times with a cupped hand, not a hint of hesitation in her movements. Stunned, all I could do was tense up. She wasn’t wrong though. On top of all my other puberty misfortunes, I had been cursed with minimal growth to my penis, to the point that Ms Rowles’ old panties, while snug, weren’t exactly constraining. For her part, Ms Rowles didn’t make much of this. I don’t know whether she was showing me some kindness or was just being dispassionate. “I haven’t worn this get up since I was…God, not much older than you. Didn’t take me long to realise that I just couldn’t find a man up to my standards.”
Her musings were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. “Ahhh, and that must be Josie! I’ve still got to do my morning routine, so you head downstairs and the two of you can figure what needs doing around the house today. I’ll see you both shortly.”
With the shock of everything else, I’d completely forgotten about Josie. The other housekeeper, a girl the same age as me with whom I’d formed a pretty solid relationship, and one who was about see me dressed in Ms Rowles’ decades-old lingerie. And yet, this would be far from the worst my day would get.