The household were assembled for my inspection at the front porch, Mr Belcher the Butler, aptly named I surmised as a bellyfull of porter produced a l...oud belch with every sentence, Frobisher the under butler, resplendent in a uniform notable by such cleanliness that one could discern that it was bottle green in hue and not mildew on black like Belcher's.The Footman was a mere boy and not even liveried, he might have been a farm hand, Binks, by name though Belcher called him Matthew, and there. God, she really was amazingly beautiful."Didn't you come down for a snack?" I asked, noticing that she didn't have anything on the table."Well, I was hoping you guys would have some fruit, but it's in those boxes, and I wasn't sure if I could take that." Yeah, it's fine," I said, walking over to the fridge. "They're my fruit salads, but I'll be happy to share one with you."I reached into the fridge, grabbing two of the fruit salads along with a few cold chicken breasts wrapped in foil. I put. Each new phrase increased the mindfuck as I internalized and accepted them as truth. He must have written 30 or more phrases, covering my back, sides, legs, arms and tits. I assumed he was admiring his work, then heard the distinct sound of an iPhone camera documenting my disgrace. My secret would soon be out for all to see. I sensed him standing in front of me, and I opened my eyes as hooked his fingers in my nostrils and pulled my face up to get my attention. “Open your hole, cunt-face”I. This cycle was repeated three more times. He still hadn't spoken. She asked him what the bill was. He numbly reached into his shirt pocket, as if in a trance, and proffered her the bill/receipt. She reached over to the side table next to the front door and handed him the money.She said, "Keep the change for all your trouble," and began to close the door very slowly, all the while, smiling at him demurely.He still stood there, rooted to the spot, massaging his stiff cock through his pants..