Chapter 1: Good Morning, Mistress
Black leather boots, leather corset, studded collar. A large whip. No knickers. That's how she'd be dressed.
I rang the doorbell.
It was going to be a hot day. It was only half past eight but already I could feel the sun beating down on my back. Should I have come dressed as a slave, I wondered?
I rang the doorbell again. Where was she? Pulling on those thigh length boots no doubt. Deciding whether it would be no knickers or cunt hugging leather.
Finally the door opened. Lucy was wearing blue jeans and a white blouse. She looked as though she had just crawled out of bed.
"Sorry," she said. "I was asleep."
I was a bit miffed. "Had you forgotten?"
"Certainly not, overslept that's all. Come in."
I crossed the threshold. Lucy closed the door behind me.
"Now," she said. "Are you quite sure you want to go through with this? To do anything I tell you to do?"
"Of course," I said. "As long as it isn't illegal and won't cause permanent injury."
"OK," she said. "Unzip your flies, get your cock out and wank off."
"What? Here?" We were still standing by the front door.
"Slaves do not question their orders. I'm not having you sexually excited all day. You're not here to enjoy yourself, you're here to be my slave. So let's get it out of your system, shall we?"
I unzipped my flies and fished out my limp cock. I started to encourage it, but without instant success. It felt strange to stand in someone's hallway at 8.30am trying to have a wank.
But after a few moments my nervousness began to wane to be replaced by some enthusiasm. Lucy was standing in front of me watching me stroking my cock. That was nice, having her watching.
Lucy unbuttoned her blouse, pulled her bra down from her left breast and began to tease the nipple between thumb and forefinger, to encourage me I presumed. It seemed to work as I felt a surge of randiness. Lucy has lovely breasts, not huge but perfectly formed.
"Will you need to see my cunt?" she asked.
Randy, randy, randy! I didn't answer, I just wanked harder, my eyes fixed on her playing with her nipple, her eyes on my cock. I was really getting into this. I guess I'd been bottling up the anticipation for days. I didn't have to wank for long before I was getting into come territory.
"Are you sure you want me to come?" I said, glancing down at her pristine carpet.
"Just come," she said. "I want to see it spurting out of you."
"OK," I said. "Here I come, I'm coming now."
And come I did. A real knee trembler. The cum jetted out, the first spurt landing on her jeans just above her knees, the rest splatting down onto the carpet.
As soon as I had come Lucy pulled her bra back into place and buttoned her blouse up.
"Now lick it up," she said, pointing to the globs on the floor.
Now, perhaps when you are in a highly excited state, licking your own spunk up off a hall carpet might, if you were rat-arse drunk, seem like a good idea. No, you're right, it wouldn't. Certainly, in the cold light of post-come it did not seem like a good idea at all.
"I'm sorry, Lucy, I really don't think I can do that."
"Are you a fucking slave or not?" Lucy almost shouted at me. "Now get down and lick it up or that's it, you can fuck off home."
'Lucy!' I thought. I'd hardly ever heard her raise her voice or swear, she was such a gentle, mild mannered person. She was giving me a stern 'make your mind up' look.
I shrugged. "If you insist," I said.
In for a penny. I got down on my hands and knees. There it was, right in front of my nose, a pool of spunk. Gingerly, I put my tongue out. I licked at it.
It didn't taste anything like I had expected. It had a creamy, milky taste and texture. The idea had been much worse than the reality. Still, I didn't so much lick it up as press it into carpet with my tongue.
"Good," she said when I had finished. "Now, strip off."
She seemed to be taking this all a bit seriously. Obediently I took my clothes off and handed them to her. She took them from me and threw them into the corner.
"You'll find the carpet shampoo in there," she said, pointing to the hall cupboard. "I want this carpet cleaned pronto."
So there I was, on my hands and knees stark naked with a bowl of warm water, a damp sponge and a bottle of 1001. Pretty sexy, eh?
The phone rang. Lucy took it on the hall phone and talked to what was obviously a work colleague while watching my backside bobbing up and down as I scrubbed. She was still on the phone when I finished the carpet. I put the things away. Lucy motioned me towards her. Still talking, she began absently to knead my cock, bringing it very much to life again. It wasn't long before it was stiff as a ramrod. Lucy started to wank me. Jolly nice it was too. "Hang on a second," she said to her colleague. She put her hand over the receiver. "Go into the bog and have a wank. And I want to see the evidence when you've finished."
"Oh, come off it, Lucy," I complained.
Her hand flashed out and slapped the side of my bottom.
"Ow!" I went.
"Go and do what you're told! Do not argue with me, do not answer back, do not show dissent. Just say 'yes, madam'."
She didn't wait for a reply. She went back to her phone conversation. But she did start playing with me again.
"Sorry," she said to her colleague, "there was someone at the door......Eh? Oh, I dropped a book, that's all."
When Lucy had my prick fully up again she pointed to the loo door and waved me away. I sat on the loo and started to wank. I was in danger of losing it, of not being able to spunk again, but I thought of her lovely arse. I managed it in the end. As I came I carefully caught the cum in my hand.
When I came out she had finished her call and was sitting on the bottom stair. I showed her the sticky evidence.
"That should have calmed you down," she said.
Calmed me down! What had seemed like a great idea a few weeks ago when John had suggested it - 'how would you like to be Lucy's sex slave for a day, for her birthday?' - and had seemed like an even better idea in subsequent fantasy moments, now held no appeal at all. Standing there naked in her hallway I just felt awkward. Only pride prevented me from walking out.
"Come here," she said.
She had a roll of masking tape. She pulled hard on my flaccid cock, stretching it, and wrapped tape around it. She had a half pound kitchen weight. She taped it to me so that it hung a few inches below the end of my cock. Then she wrapped more tape round my cock, mummifying it.
"Lucy," I started, "I'm not sure this is a good idea."
"Does it hurt?" she said.
Actually it didn't. I shook my head. "But what if I need a pee?"
"If you need a pee you ask. You don't do anything unless you have permission. Is that clear?"
"OK," I said uncertainly. "I mean, yes, madam."
"Put these on," she said holding out a pair of stockings, the sort that keep themselves up. I put them on. "And this," she said. She handed me a little red leather skirt. I squeezed into it.
She surveyed me. Stockings, red skirt with end of cock hanging below the hem, weight hanging from end of cock. "You'd look better with a top, I think." Lucy took her blouse off and gave it to me. I put it on. It wasn't impossibly tight. You will gather I am quite slim. Her blouse was warm from her body and smelled of her.
She, dressed in her jeans and bra, looked at me, dressed in her skirt and blouse. She seemed satisfied.
"Right. Breakfast," she announced. "Bacon, sausage, fried bread, mushrooms. You'll find everything. Can you manage that?"
"I think so." How could she eat that kind of breakfast and remain so lithe? She was looking at me with one eyebrow raised as though I was remiss.
"Ah. I think so, madam," I said, adding the madam with as much sarcasm as I could muster.
"Cook yourself the same, whatever you fancy. Off you go. Oh, and wear the pinny," she added. "I don't want that skirt fat stained."
Cooking isn't my strong suit, but I bunged a huge breakfast for two into the frying pan and hoped for the best. Lucy made a phone call then came and sat at the kitchen table. I could feel her staring at my back as I cooked the breakfast.
"Bend over," she said, "so I can see your bum."
What had got into her? I bent forwards. But she got up and went out.
She came back with what I think is called a butt plug, and a tube of KY jelly. "Here," was all she said as she handed them to me before sitting down at the table again.
Dutifully I lubricated the plug, bent over so she could see, and inserted it. Not uncomfortable - that's good design for you. I washed my hands, of course.
"How's Anne?" Lucy asked.
"Do slaves have wives?" I replied heavily.
Lucy laughed. "I was forgetting. Where's my breakfast, slave?"
I put the breakfast onto the plates, took the pinny off and walked over to the table. I say walked. With a thing up your arse and a lead weight hanging from your dick hitting your thighs with every stride, waddled might be a better word.
"No," Lucy said firmly, looking at my plate. "Slaves eat under the table."
I put my plate on the floor.
"Between my legs, facing me. Your face close to my cunt. I haven't washed. I'm still spunky from last night when John fucked me. I want you to smell me. Do I smell?"
I put my nose to her crotch. She did smell, but how to answer such a question without provoking the wrath of one's mistress?
"Pure essence of woman," I said.
"Creep," she said.
I enjoyed my breakfast staring at the nicely bulging crotch of her jeans. There's nothing like the aroma of freshly cooked bacon and yesterday's cunt.
After we had eaten I made her a cup of tea and put the TV on, then I was instructed to go and run the bath.
A few minutes later she came up, stripped off and sat on the loo to have a pee.
"Put some of those blue salts in the bath," she said.
I poured some in. Then I heard it. Plop, plop, plop. She was having a crap! I tried to ignore it and stirred more of the smelling salts into the water.
"Come and wipe my arse, slave."
What was the matter with her? This just was not the Lucy I knew. She would never be so, well, basic, nor so dictatorial. She seemed to be taking to her role of mistress more easily than I to mine of slave.
But I did wipe her arse for her. And as I bent over her she pulled down on the weight hanging from me, giving it quite a hard tug.
I gasped involuntarily, but said: "thank you, madam." Maybe I was getting the hang of my role after all.
Arse wiped, Lucy got up and hopped into the bath.
"Ah," she said, luxuriating in the welcoming hot water. "That's better. Now, slave, you'll find a book beside my bed. Go and get it."
I waddled out and returned with it. I can't recall the exact title, but 'Gay Boys in Bondage' was probably close.
"On your hands and knees, over there where I can see you. Start reading from where the marker is."
Is this what turned her on? Relaxing in her bath looking at a plugged arse framed in a red leather skirt, and a voice coming from the other end reading amazing tales of... but no, you wouldn't be interested in what gay boys do to each other, would you?
I wanted to look over my shoulder to see what Lucy was doing as I read this lurid tale of homosexual depravity. As if I couldn't guess. Perhaps she wanted to stare at my arsehole to help her visualise certain aspects of the story.
I read for what seemed like an age. She didn't even murmur until she was almost coming. Then it was only a little 'ah, ah, ah' and a quiet 'aaaaaaah, ah' as she came.
I stopped reading.
"OK," she said without even a 'thank you, you read that beautifully'. "Go and tidy up the kitchen. Oh, and you'd better take that thing out of your bum. Here, I'll wash it in the bath."
How kind. I pulled it out - not as easy as putting it in as it seemed to have cemented itself into place. I handed it to her. She submerged it and began soaping it. I went downstairs.
I cleared away the breakfast things, stoked the dishwasher and tidied up the kitchen - all with one hand. The other was holding the weight, not because it was hurting my dick - it wasn't - but to stop it bruising my legs.
I'd imagined spending the day in a state of constant sexual tension and I felt aggrieved that Lucy had robbed me of that by making me wank twice.
Lucy was calling me from upstairs: "Hot towel please, slave. In the airing cupboard."
I found a fluffy towel. Lucy stepped out of the bath and I wrapped the towel around her.
"Put the sun lounger out on the lawn, and get the sun tan stuff, it's in the kitchen somewhere."
"I can't go out in your garden like this!" I said.
Lucy was drying herself between her legs. "Yes you can," she said.
"But what if someone sees?"
"What if they do?"
I had no answer to that.
I had the sun lounger all set up by the time she came out. She was stark naked, bold as brass.
"A bit more that way." She indicated how she wanted the lounger moved. "I'm going to have a really nice day. Hmm, you're a bit overdressed, take the blouse and skirt off. Keep the stockings on though, they suit you."
I did her bidding. She lay on her back, legs shamelessly apart. She does have a pretty cunt. I had to notice that even though I was far too wanked out to be aroused by it.
"Have you got the oil?" She lay back.
I did her shoulders, her arms, her face, then down over her breasts, trying to detect whether she wanted me to linger there. I didn't think she did.
Then down over her tummy, to her thighs. Then between her legs. She didn't react at all when I touched her there. Lying with her legs wide apart, the inner lips of her cunt exposed like that, she was in danger of some nasty sunburn. I had to make sure she was well protected. As I rubbed my hand up and down over her cunt I slipped a finger inside her.
"Did I ask you to do that?" Lucy said tartly, without opening her eyes.
"No, sorry." I was a bit taken aback.
"Stand up," she said.
I stood up. She reached out and pulled down very sharply on my weight.
"Not unless I tell you to, alright? Now, get on with it, then bugger off and do some housework. But quietly, I'm going to have a sleep."
Bugger off home, I thought I would. And yet she looked so gorgeous and fuckable lying back like that with her legs apart that I couldn't possibly have left.
I cleaned the kitchen windows to show willing then went and sat down in the living room for a rest.
I must have dozed off as the next thing I knew the doorbell was ringing. I looked at the clock, it was almost half past eleven.
"Get that," Lucy called out drowsily. "And no clothes. I can see you from here." Through the patio door and living room door she could see right through to the hallway. That was why the lounger had had to be moved.
Naked except for stockings and a knee length dong? I reached between my legs from behind and held the weight back out of the way. I opened the front door as little as possible, hiding behind it. It was the postman with a parcel.
"Sign here." And he passed me a pad and pencil. Automatically I reached out for these with both hands. The weight swung between my legs and - bang! - hit the door. The postman cocked his head to one side to see what it was. His eyes widened in disbelief when he saw how I was adorned. I looked him straight in the eye, smiled, signed his chitty, took the parcel and shut the door, thanking my lucky stars it wasn't a glass front door.
The parcel felt like a stack of porno mags, and probably was - I was discovering a lot about 'madam' today.
"Who was that?"
"Postman. Feels like some magazines."
"Oh yea. Come and do my back, I'm turning over."
I put the parcel on the hall table and went to attend to madam. She looked just as gorgeous showing her lovely arse to the world. I oiled her in a very businesslike fashion, starting with her feet and working up.
As I oiled her I began to realise I needed a pee. Remembering her earlier instruction I said: "Er, excuse me, madam, but I, er, need a pee." I was kneeling beside her, doing her shoulders now.
She turned to look at me. "OK, go on then."
I got up and went to head indoors, not quite sure how I was going to manage to pee with my dick encased in tape.
"Where do you think you're going?" Lucy asked.
"For a pee," I said.
"Kneel down. Do it here."
"Here?" I looked around. "But... Well anyway, I can't with all this tape."
My protest earned me only another sharp yank on the weight.
I shook my head in resignation and knelt beside her again. I'd pretend I couldn't go.
"And wait," Lucy said. "Put a finger up my arse."
Phew. I poured some sun tan oil between her buttocks then worked a finger into her arsehole.
"Further in," she instructed. I pushed my finger as far up her arse as I could. She seemed to like that.
"Now piss," she said.
"I don't think I can," I said weakly. And I couldn't. I just could not relax the necessary muscles.
"Take your time," she said soothingly. "Another finger, go on, two."
I squeezed another finger up her arse. She winced momentarily, but when it was in she smiled contentedly.
What was I to do? I couldn't stay here all day with two fingers up her oily arsehole. And I did need a pee. Eventually I found and began to relax the right muscles.
"I think I can do it now," I said.
Lucy looked expectantly at my cock, shifting to get closer to it.
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