I had difficulty sleeping on Sunday night, my brain replaying the events of the previous afternoon when Jessica had allowed me to worship her pussy and had then rewarded me with a hand job. This marked a new direction for our relationship, and I was sure that it would not be long before she was again desirous of my attention.
Of course, she had locked me up again, reminding me that I was still in a submissive relationship, and a painful early morning erection left me in no doubt of my status.
It took me a few moments to remember it was Monday. I'd agreed—or rather been manipulated—into cleaning Jessica's house on a weekly basis, and I had instructions to report to her at 8 AM that morning, this time being chosen so she could explain my duties before she left for college.
I got showered and dressed, putting on my cotton knickers bearing the “Monday” slogan. After having breakfast and making a sandwich for lunch, I made my way around to her house.
Jessica was quick to open the door. The school holidays had now started, but she was still having to go into the college every day. The only difference was that now she was casually dressed, in figure hugging jeans and an equally tight white T-shirt. I so wanted to give her a squeeze, but I knew she would not approve, and, moreover, my penis would most likely react badly.
After giving me a peck on the cheek, she handed me several typed pages of instructions. “It should all be straightforward,” she explained, “and as you complete each task, tick it off on the list. That way, I won't have to punish you for forgetting something.” She smiled, but I detected a threat in her voice.
“Er... the list looks very long, Miss. What happens if I can't complete it?”
She stared at me with a look of resignation and gave a big sigh. “You'll keep working until you do, darling. And if you still can't, then I have my whopping big cane to incentivise you to do better next time.” She broke into a giggle, while staring at me.
“Er... right! But... but what about if I were to finish the tasks in less than five hours. What happens then?”
She laughed. “Crumbs, I don't think that's likely to happen, but, if it did, then you restart at the top of the list, silly. You're contracted to do five hours of work, and that's what I expect you to do.”
“You mean... you mean I have to clean things I've already cleaned.”
“Yes!! You can be very dense, sometimes. Stop over-complicating matters.”
“Yes... okay, Miss.”
“There are one or two things on the list I need to expand on,” she said. “You going to be handwashing my lingerie and other delicates, darling. The instructions on how to do that are written down and you're to follow them to the letter. I don't want my white lingerie turning grey or the elastic perishing.” She looked at me, continuing, “I know you have a thing about my undies, so I was in two minds whether to assign you this job, but, as I'm far too busy, I'm giving it to you.”
I didn't know what to say and thanking her would have been inappropriate.
“Sniffing is forbidden, darling. But I've also said that as I can't be here to watch you, I can't exactly stop you. Therefore, if you wish to disobey me and sniff, I have to accept that.”
By now my face was crimson. “I'll behave myself, Miss,” I said. “I won't... er... sniff.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, looking at me with a sarcastic expression. “Why don't I believe you?”
I didn't know what to say, but she continued, “By the way, an Amazon delivery will arrive sometime today. It's for you, but don't open it.” My stomach sank, wondering what further embarrassment awaited me.
After giving me a final peck on the cheek, she left for college, and I started working my way down the list of chores. Understandably, the first job was to launder her bedding—if this was to be dry by the time she got home, it needed to be washed early.
I went upstairs to find her bedroom. It was a mess. Clothes were strewn across the room, some on the floor, some of the bed and some draped over a chair—panties, bras, suspender belts, stockings, tights, skirts, dresses, shirts... What most grabbed my attention were the dirty knickers—not one pair, but several. I picked up a pair and felt compelled to look at the gusset. Even without putting them close to my nose, I could pick up her fragrant pheromones.
Almost instantly, my penis woke up inside its cage. I knew I was disobeying her instructions, but I couldn't resist bringing the panties closer to my nose and inhaling deeply. My penis responded in the way you would expect, but I couldn't help taking a further sniff. I had never considered myself to be a masochist, but here I was, simultaneously experiencing pleasure and suffering pain.
Remembering why I was in the bedroom, I dropped the undies and, in a trance-like state, I stripped the bed, carrying the linen downstairs and placing it in the washing machine.
I then turned my attention to general cleaning—there were three bedrooms, a bathroom, a cloakroom, two reception rooms, a kitchen, a utility room, not to mention stairs, halls and landings. It was a mammoth task. Nothing was especially dirty, but neither was it completely clean. I had to give it my best effort, as I was sure that she would be looking out for anything I'd neglected. The kitchen was especially onerous, as she wanted the fridge, oven and microwave all to be spotless inside. I could see why she laughed when I asked what I was to do should I complete the list in the five hours allowed—it wasn't going to happen.
By lunchtime, I was already feeling exhausted from rushing around. I cut back on my one-hour lunch break and quickly ate the sandwich I'd brought with me.
Resuming work, I next had her laundry to contend with. To be honest, this was the one part of the day I was looking forward to, getting to feel—and smell—her clothes, including her most intimate items of apparel.
Some of her stuff could be placed in the washing machine, which was now empty after laundering the bedding. But much had to be handwashed, and the instructions for doing so were long and detailed, specifying water temperature, type and amount of detergent, length of pre-soaking, number of rinses, etc.
As I'd discovered earlier that day, handling her undies was a double-edged sword. I felt compelled to sniff her panties to pick up her musky scent and to smell her bras to detect the sensual perfume she always wore, yet my penis instantly reminded me that it had no room to swell.
I realised I was wasting time, so I dropped the garments into the lukewarm water, and began washing them, taking enjoyment in ensuring that I followed her written directions to the letter.
Having hung up her washing on the line outside, I brought in her now dry bedding and set to work ironing it, trying to make sure it was free of creases. Job done, I then remade the bed.
Then there was more cleaning to be done. It seemed never ending, working my way through her list. I had already done my five hours, but her instructions were clear—I was to continue until the work was finished.
I continued with the tasks and was still working in the bathroom when I heard the front door open. She was home! I glanced at my watch and realised it was gone 5 PM. I'd been cleaning since 8 AM, with just a short break for lunch.
“I'm still here, Miss Fulford,” I called down.
“What? Why! Come downstairs now!” She sounded irritated.
With some trepidation, I made my way down to greet her in the hallway.
“Evening, Miss,” I said.
“Why are you still here, Frank?” she asked, her face expressing displeasure. “Have you been asleep on the job?”
“No!!” I retorted, “There was just so much to do! I'm just finishing off with the bathroom, Miss.”
“This is not good enough, Frank. You understand?”
“Er... yes, Miss, I'm sorry.”
“I've had a hard day of sorting stuff out at college and the last thing I wanted was to come home and find you bumbling around my house. How much work do you still have to do?”
“Only about ten minutes,” I explained.
“Then go and finish off, Frank!”
I completed the cleaning of the bathroom and went back downstairs. She was in the lounge, scrolling through her phone, a gin and tonic close by. “Have you finished at last, Frank?”
“Yes, Miss,” I replied.
“Good boy... I'll inspect your work later, once I've had a chance to unwind from work.” She took a sip of her G&T while I stood close by, feeling like a spare part—or perhaps a Victorian servant awaiting instructions.
She looked up at me, smiled kindly and sighed. “I'm sorry if I sounded a tad irritable, darling, but I've had a long day. I'm sure you've been doing your best. But you wouldn't believe how tiring my job it. It's relentless, Frank—absolutely nonstop and I've had barely a minute to myself all day.”
“But it's the holidays, Miss. You're not teaching at the moment.”
“What?! You think I'm on holiday, Frank?! The miscreants might be, but not the damn staff. And the headmistress is a slavedriver, always demanding more from us plebs.”
“Yes, I can imagine it must be very hard work, Miss, and I wouldn't be able to cope,” I replied, trying to disguise my cynicism.
She stared up at me, fingering the gold chain around her neck that held the key to my cage. “I hope you're not being sarcastic, darling?”
“No, of course not,” I hastened to reply.
“Hmm? Anyway, did the parcel arrive?”
“Yes... I left it in the kitchen, Miss.”
“Well, go and fetch it! It's not going to find its way in here otherwise,” she replied, rolling her eyes.
I did what she said. I had no idea what was inside the small box, except the contents were quite heavy and rattled a little.
She tore into the packaging, extracting something metallic—handcuffs! “Look, Frank!” she screeched, barely able to contain her delight. “I said yesterday you needed handcuffs, and here they are!”
Once more, I was lost for words so I waited to see what her next move would be. “We need to try them out, darling. Take your clothes off while I get your blindfold.”
I guessed that oral sex was on the cards again and her ordering me to strip off suggested she was going to unlock me. I felt excited.
She came back into the room a couple of minutes later carrying the familiar black scarf. “Oh,” she said, “you could have kept your knickers on because I'm not unlocking you today, darling.” She noticed the disappointment on my face, adding, “Sorry, but that's not going to happen every time, Frank. I hope you're not forgetting you're in a submissive relationship.”
How could I forget?!
“Hands behind your back, please,” she politely requested. I heard the cuffs click shut. “Oh, God! I should have tested the key first,” she laughed. “I'm sure it will work, otherwise you'll need to call a locksmith, darling!”
She was teasing me—I hoped.
“We'll use a different position today. I'll lie back in this armchair, and you get between my thighs,” she explained, as she tied the scarf around my eyes. “Get down on your knees while I get undressed.”
I was left for a minute or so, my mind going wild imaging what she was revealing—a part of her anatomy that she considered private and didn't want me to see. She wasn't a virgin, and I wondered if any man had been allowed to see it.
She dropped down on the chair and urged me to move forward into position. I needed no guiding. Like a bloodhound, I was quick to pick up her natural essence, which was mingled with her perfume. Her smell was divine and as I nuzzled into her sanctuary, so my penis began throbbing inside its cage.
This position for oral sex was one I was more familiar with, having used this with my late wife on many occasions. Consequently, I didn't need any reminders from Jessica about the layout of her private quarters.
I started by licking her inner thighs, moving up towards her vulva. I wasn't sure she wanted that, but she seemed appreciative, at least for a minute or so. “Come on, Frank. I never mentioned foreplay—get on with it!”
In response to her admonishment, using the flat of my tongue, I licked the full length of her vulva several times, stopping just short of her clitoris. This teasing was working, and she began to thrust her hips towards my face, while gripping my head, trying to grind my face into her pussy. Her frustration was growing, but I had to be careful that it was limited to sexual frustration and not impatience with my slow buildup.
I began using my tongue and lips to encircle her labia, while occasionally breaking off to tease her clit, just for the briefest of moments. Her reactions became more noticeable, with murmurs and groans, as well as wriggles. I pushed my tongue into her vagina, hoping to find her G-spot and, once or twice, she violently twitched, suggesting I'd hit it, but more by luck than judgement.
I returned my attention to her labia, just occasionally stroking her clit, using my tongue to tease it. Soon, I had established a rhythm, working my way around all the sensitive parts of her pussy.
She was responding much as I hoped, groaning and wriggling, and clutching my head to push it in further. I could tell she was not far off from climaxing, but I was intent on playing the long game, sensing that the longer she had to wait to orgasm, the more powerful and memorable it would be.
As I worked away, I was able to distance myself from the painful engorgement of my penis. This time, she was offering me no release, but I was sure that if I performed well then there would be other occasions when she would grant me relief.
Her vocalisations were growing louder, and she even began to utter expletives, a rarity for her. Then, suddenly, she screamed out an obscenity, and her body arched and went rigid. Then her body rocked back and forth, while she pulled my head tightly into her vulva.
Suddenly, I became aware that my blindfold was being torn off through contact with her pounding thighs. As she came down from her climax, she let go of my head, allowing me to back away. She was naked from the waist down, as I'd expected, and I was able to catch sight of her glistening vulva, wet with her juices and my saliva. It was a magnificent sight—her lips were swollen, and her clit was still pulsating. And the area was surrounded by a neatly trimmed bush of short, blondish hair. I couldn't stop looking.
Her eyes had been closed but they suddenly popped open. “Shit!” she uttered, as the realisation dawned on her that I was staring at her private parts.
She reached down with her hands and covered herself up, grumbling, “You could have closed your damn eyes, Frank!”
“Sorry... I just got carried away. It's... it's so beautiful.”
“I doubt that very much, but it's not something you—a submissive—should be staring at. It's not right, Frank. You forgot your place.”
“I'm sorry...”
“Go and stand in the corner while I get dressed,” she curtly ordered. I couldn't tell if she was angry with me, or just disappointed in me, but I slunk off to the corner, my wrists still cuffed behind my back.
She left me there for much longer than it took her to get sorted out, and I was relieved when she instructed me to turn around.
“Sorry, it was my fault, darling,” she said. “I should have predicted my thighs might displace that scarf.”
“Er... yes, I guess so.”
“You were wonderful, by the way. I can't believe how good you are eating me out. Men my age are damn useless at it, Frank.”
I wanted to ask if she would like to see what else I was good at, but I bit my lips. I didn't imagine for a moment that she would wish to have penetrative sex with me.
“I'd best get those handcuffs off you, darling, so you can go home.”
There had been another step change in our relationship, but by accident, not design.
