I was glad that I didn't have to wear the wiganymore, but let me tell you, long hair is a pain to look after. I kept itshampooed and conditioned, shin... and well cared for, as I didn't dareanger Erik.Every few days, the women, which included me, would clean up the house,vacuuming and cleaning it from top to bottom. While the other women woremore regular clothes, Erik had me wear a black satin French maids outfit.Its short skirt and petticoats moved while I worked, and the tight bodicekept my. And there she was, chopping carrots.“Ooh, make yourself at home, won’t you?” she said, frantically trying to get the tone right, to balance ‘Get out of my fucking house’ with an unmistakable ‘Nice to see you.’“Sorry,” I said, crumbling immediately in the presence of this immensely attractive, all-powerful mother figure.“Ben, you look terrible,” she said. “Come and lie down.”She took me into the spare room, our room, and we lay on the bed. Mrs Hubert’s hand started to roam beneath my t-shirt but. More

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