Anonymous - Ectasy on Fire

Nellie's very first job, after she left home, had been that of an au pair in Paris. She'd gotten this job through an employment agency that placed British girls wanting to learn the French language with French families. These girls were expected to work their asses off, doing everything from taking care of the brats to housecleaning and shopping. In return, they got paltry wages, a small room and leftovers from the family table.

Many au pairs were also expected to fuck the stupid, often dull bourgeois husbands on their one weekday off or climb in bed with the bored wives on rainy afternoons after the brats had been taken to school or to grandmothers' house.

Nellie had lasted just long enough on her first job to pay back the agency in London for the privilege of half-starving to death in a lonely, unfriendly foreign country.

Although she had tried, she'd been unable to make friends. She did not get along with the other au pair girls, who were British, Scottish, Swedish, Norwegian, and German.

She'd found most of them to be pretty stupid and not particularly attractive. None of them had been interested in her story, and she had not been interested in theirs. Few spoke English well enough for her to understand and this had been a further barrier to any kind of decent on-going relationship with another girl.

Finally, in the International Herald Tribune, the English-language newspaper of Paris, she had seen an ad for a female house servant willing to travel. She dialed the number, was recommended for the job, and in a day or so, she was flown to Nice.

It was there that she met Mrs. Melissa Staunton. The two had gotten along beautifully right from the very beginning.

Nellie was very impressed with the chateau. After Melissa had first shown Nellie the chateau, she directed Maurice to drive them into downtown Nice. In the car, Nellie had begun to cry.

"What's the matter, dear?" Melissa asked. They were sitting in the rear of the limousine. Maurice was watching for the spot where he would drop them off. It was one of the most expensive and exclusive boutiques on the Promenade des Anglais.

"Nothing… nothing, really."

Melissa had put her hand on the girl's knee. "Is it that you're homesick, Nellie? Maybe we should go find an English place and have a drink or something. What do you say?"

Nellie couldn't believe her ears. This woman was so kind, and she was remarkably good-looking. Her face had no wrinkles, and she had twinkling eyes and a lovely lithe body.

They had drinks in the English Pub downtown. There, Nellie had time to catch her breath, hearing for the first time in a long while her own native language spoken. She saw familiar signs in English, recognized British beers and whiskey. At last, the Cockney girl began to relax, understanding that her life was changing dramatically and obviously for the better.

After an afternoon of shopping among the courteous and pleasant people of Nice, they returned to the chateau.

That first night in her own room, Nellie cried herself to sleep.

As the days passed, Nellie grew accustomed to her work, which was very light and not at all demanding. She also grew used to the strangeness between Madam Andre and the mysterious George, whom she found fascinating for reasons she couldn't put her finger on. Nellie grew happier by the day.

When Mrs. Staunton began taking Nellie on other excursions, not only shopping, but also to cafe-meetings with her friends, the English girl found herself falling madly in love with Melissa.

There were some afternoons, endless mornings, and especially evenings when Mrs. Staunton's, "Nellie, I won't be needing you today, darling," would hurt Nellie deeply. She loved to be near her mistress.

Nellie's main chore was to care for Melissa's apartment, clothing, and makeup, along with her huge collection of shoes, negligees, robes, gowns, and — especially — her lingerie.

Everything Melissa wore, including her panties, her brassieres, and naturally, her silken stockings, had to be washed by hand.

Nellie did this chore lovingly. Before washing Melissa's panties, she would rub them all over her face, her naked breasts, and sometimes even between her open thighs, over her wet cunt.

She would lick and sniff Melissa's high heels, her slippers, and especially her brassieres, and other intimate articles that touched Melissa's delicious nakedness.

Nellie usually took the articles of clothing Melissa wore up into her own room to wash them. Here, she was certain, no one like Madam Andre or George or Maurice would interrupt her.

That was another thing that differed so vastly from the au pair job with the bourgeois family in Paris. There she had no privacy at all. If it wasn't the brats in her small room, it was the wife, the husband, the delivery boy, the wife's relatives, or the husband's children from his previous marriage.

In the chateau, Nellie had as much privacy as she could ever hope for. And she loved it.

Now, she was nude, except for a pair of high-heeled bedroom slippers, which Melissa had insisted on buying for her having seen Nellie admiring them in a boutique window. Her long hair fell down to her waist. Her face was not made up, but perfectly natural.

There was a light tapping on her door. She turned her head, wondering who it could be. It was most assuredly not Madam Andre, George or Maurice, and who else was there?

Grabbing a thin robe, one of her few sentimental things from England, the "tweenie" hurried to the door.

"Yes," she asked, in her usual breathless voice, "who is it, please?"

"Melissa," came the reply.

Nellie could have dropped dead.

"Nellie," Melissa asked in a soft voice, "am I disturbing you?"

Nellie didn't know what to do. Finally, gathering herself together, she said, "Mrs. Staunton, I can be down in seconds. I'm indisposed right now."

"I understand, dear," said Melissa, "it's only that I wanted to know if you had that pair of lavender panties I left for you to rinse out? Do you, my dear?"

Nellie found herself blushing. Only minutes earlier, she'd been rubbing them all over her cunt and her armpits, kissing the crotch, almost taking the wispy, gossamer panties entirely into her mouth before she stuck them up inside her cunt. She had masturbated furiously with the lavender panties, rubbing them on her inner thighs, moving them slowly up toward her aching cunt.

"Yes, I do," said Nellie, "but they're not quite ready yet, Mrs. Staunton."

"Darling," said Melissa, "I know you're occupied, so why don't you just hand them to me. I'll rinse them out myself. They'll dry quickly."

Nellie wondered, desperately, what to do.

"They're dripping wet, Mrs. Staunton," said Nellie. "They're in the wash," she added, falling into her natural Cockney accent.

"Well, dear, just go get them and wring them out, will you?"

Melissa sounded just a bit impatient.

"Yes Ma'am," Nellie breathed. "One moment, please, Mrs. Staunton."

In a flash, Nellie ran with the panties into the bathroom. There was no time to turn on the water in the sink, so she dunked the poor lavender panties in the toilet bowl, then rinsed them out with warm water from the bidet.

Tucking them into a towel, she ran back to the door. She opened it. There was Melissa, sitting disconsolately on a small chair facing Nellie's door. She was barefoot and her long hair was down. She wore a short wrapper around her body but Nellie could see she was naked beneath it. Nellie glimpsed Melissa's hairy crotch and her naked breasts.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Staunton."

Melissa looked up. She frowned. "Darling," she said, looking at the old worn robe Nellie was wearing, "where in heaven's name did you get that?"

Instantly, Nellie broke out into hot tears.