It was the ad that intrigued me:
WANTED FOR TWO WEEKS’ WORK: HOLIDAY SCULLERY BOY.
ATTENTION TO DETAIL IMPORTANT.
FULL BOARD AND TRAVEL INCLUDED.
HOURS: FULL TIME WAITING ON DEMANDING MISTRESS.
PAY: SERVICE IS ITS OWN REWARD.
She had been true to her word. I was on call most of the time, with little time to enjoy the baking heat of the hillside villa. My duties mostly covered light cleaning and preparing drinks, under her watchful gaze. It was not hard work, but she insisted on attention to detail, showing me at some length the exact ways she wanted me to do things. Placing her hand on mine as she demonstrated polishing; despite the air temperature, I could still feel her own body heat along my back, and in her fingers, as she pressed me close, our joined hands working faster along the length of the balustrade. And there were rigorous inspections of my work, while I stood silently watching. Rubbing her fingers slowly around the curves of everything I’d cleaned.
Day three, I got up as usual to prepare her breakfast: black tea, grapefruit, sliced melon. But something had changed in the night. Gone were my clothes and instead the only thing left in my drawer was an apron from the kitchen. Being ten miles from the nearest town meant there wasn’t really time to buy a new wardrobe.
Wearing what was set out, I knocked gently at the door, holding the usual meal tray.
“COME” came the reply from within.
I stepped into the room and, as usual set the tray on the floor at the end of the bed. Often she would be asleep, swaddled in a single Egyptian cotton sheet against the morning heat that was trapped in this tiny room. But today she was awake. One leg was outstretched to the side, wrapped in the sheet with just her painted toes peaking out. The other was also spread, but with a knee pointed at the ceiling, foot flat on the bed. And nothing covered her as her right hand languidly played with her exposed cunt. She was looking directly at me, and I caught her eye as I started to rise from the floor.
For ten seconds, nothing happened. Neither of us moved, spoke or broke eye contact. It seemed like I didn’t breathe, and the only movement was the collection of beads of sweat in the hollow at the base of my neck. I felt horribly naked, crouching like a cornered animal at the end of the bed.
She moved first, resuming the movement of her right hand, digging around her clit with curled fingers, the slap of moist skin the only noise. I broke the stare first; out of the corner of my eye, I could see her abandoned knickers at the foot of the bed. It was barely a flicker, but she had me.
“Why don’t you pick them up and give them a sniff, scrubbing boy?”
It was rhetorical, of course. I did as I was told. I picked them up, held the gusset to my face, and inhaled. It was like her scent in espresso form, as images flooded my mind; the movement of her fingers and the olfactory imprint of her moisture created a 4-D movie in my brain, synchronised with the rising and falling of the sheets around her breasts and my own escalating heart beat. I closed my eyes and drew a further, deeper breath and felt my apron straining at the front.
When I opened my eyes, she was there in front of me, two inches from my face, her breathing raised to a low pant. I could see the shine of moisture in her flushed cheeks and breasts, and her whole body shone in the low orange light of sunrise. Without uttering a word, she pushed the panties into my mouth with two fingers.
“Taste me, scullery boy”.
The salty, slightly metallic tang rolled around my tongue, which pressed hungrily against lace and silk. I could feel her hands pull away the apron and the last vestige of my shame. Not daring to move, I let her explore my body: tonguing so gently at my nipples, her hands found my ardent cock and roughly wanked it to full erection. In contrast, her fingers delicately smeared off the pre-cum. She pulled me close, literally nose to nose, and then her hands were on my ass, pulling the cheeks apart hard, and smearing my precum and her juice, from separate hands, onto my asshole. She saw the surprise and nervousness in my eyes and laughs.
And now her fingers ease into my ass, stretching me, as my cock grinds against her lower belly and mound. She moves in to kiss, and I close my eyes, but instead I feel her teeth teasing the knickers out of my mouth. Then suddenly I am facing the wall. She has whipped me around 180 degrees and, in one movement, my wrists are bound by the apron strings. It’s tight, and she laughs again as I instinctively strain to free myself. But I’m not really trying, because this is where I want to be.
So when she grabs my hair and jerks back my head, I go with it, her fingers caressing and squeezing my throat. Her left hand holds my head tight, pinned back, while her right slides under my arms and pinches my nipples, tweaking and twisting each one in turn for a minute. I feel her teeth in my shoulder as she does this – with each twist of the nipple, my body flinches, and her teeth go deeper into the flesh. Finally she bites and sucks hard on the oval area her teeth have demarcated, before pulling me back on to the bed.
Hands behind my back, I find myself looking up at her as she towers over me, her dripping cunt inches from my face, her reddening breasts jutting out, obscuring her face. From here she is a wall of cunt and tits, and is going to come crashing down on me. She leans forward, thrusting out her hips, and all goes dark as she settles on my face, pressing her wet, sweet lips onto my nose and mouth. One hand steadies her on the bed and the other is scratching my chin as she rubs down hard on her swollen clit. And I start to eat for all I am worth, hungrily lapping up the juices I smelled earlier, and rubbing my nose into the well of her anus.
She lowers her hips and leans on both hands and we are almost one. Arching her back and pushing back low she is grinding into my face her wet open cunt. I feel her surround me as her thighs squeeze in from the sides, and her clit is being prickled by the beard growth on my chin.
Faster and faster she pushes, and by now she flat on top of me, her hands grasping the back of my knees for purchase. With every forward thrust, she brushes against my cock, I feel the wetness of her face cool against its head, every backward thrust, like a slap in my face.
She has ground so low she has pushed my chin right up and my head back. Suddenly air fills my lungs, and I gulp and squint in the brightness of sunrise as I feel her come, her thighs squeezing my head, juice streaming down my neck and collecting in my clavicle. I yell, as she bites down hard on my thigh. I feel the heavy groans of pleasure shake her whole body. And she is still.
Her weight suddenly shifts forwards, pinning my shoulders and I feel my legs swing up, as she slips her panties over my feet and down my sweating thighs. She pulls them up hard, like cheesewire along my perineum. They can barely contain my twitching cock.
She dismounts me, and pull me to the edge of the bed by my hair, rolling me off into a kneeling position. It is time for the final act and I am ready to give in. She cups my sticky, bruised face in one hand so I am looking straight at her. She is sat on the edge of the bed, naked and glistening, the rising sun behind her creates a silhouette of desire. Spreading wide her legs, she teases and strokes her flushed wet cunt, while one leg presses onto my lace-covered cock. She rocks her foot back and forth in time with the way she touches herself. Faster we go, as she presses harder and rubs further as her toes grip the edge of my cock length and the elastic in her panties begins to bite and chafe. She closes her eyes, parts her lips and tips back her head as the orgasmic convulsions roll through her again.
I can stand this no more, and as her foot presses the ache deeper inside me, I am finally released. It rips through me, my arms tense within their bindings, my knees rubbed raw on the stone floor. I cry an animal howl as I flood her panties with cum, running down my legs and pooling beneath me on the slate. Her foot has gone, and the delicious ruin of my orgasm leaves me thrashing against the apron ties that dig deeper into my flesh. Now I am a dripping, broken mess lying panting on my side.
I can’t open my eyes, even as I feel now her tender fingers loosen the strings around my wrists and arms. I slump onto my chest, not caring if my face catches the floor. I see next to me the drippings of my own lust, white and thick against the dark floor. And I hear her voice in my ear:
“Lick it up, scrubber”.