Cleaning Kevin's Place

“Cleaning Kevin’s place”

by c.w. cobblestone

 

I sat on the edge of my bed, gingerly removing my slippers from my aching, throbbing feet. It wasn’t quite 10 o’clock yet on a Friday night, but I was dog tired from yet another long, sad, lonely day.

 

After work, I’d spent the entire evening scrubbing every surface of the house. My wife was gone for another extended stay at her boyfriend’s condo, but she didn’t say when she was coming home, and I wanted to make sure everything was perfect when she returned. So I worked my ass off to make sure the place was spotless. Besides, cleaning helped take my mind off my loneliness.

 

But now, I was ready to drop. I pulled the covers over my head, hugged my soft pillow, and drifted…off…to…sleep…..

 

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGG!!!!! The loud ring of the phone jolted me awake. Then my heart jumped -- could it be her? I scrambled out of bed and scooped up the receiver before the third ring.

 

“H-Hello?”

 

“Hey, lester, it’s me.”

 

It was Robin! I took a breath and tried to say something, but my tongue wouldn’t cooperate.

 

“gggghh-hi, Robin,” I finally croaked in a timid little voice. I sounded like a mouse with a sore throat. “Uh…how are you…um, doing?”

 

“How am I doing? I’m disgusted sitting in this mess, that’s how I’m doing,” she snapped. “You need to get your ass over here, like right now. Kevin is such a slob, I can’t believe it. This place is an absolute disaster area -- it looks like he hasn’t cleaned in a month.”

 

I heard Kevin laugh in the background. “That’s not true, honey,” I heard him quip, “Well, maybe I didn’t exactly scrub the floors – but at least I flushed the toilet, didn’t I?”

 

Robin deadpanned to her boyfriend, “yeah, and you probably don’t even do that when I’m not around, you slob.” Then she said to me, “anyways, listen, lester, you need to come over here right now and give this place a real good going-over. I’m planning on staying a few more days, and I refuse to sit in this clutter another minute!”

 

Once again, I heard Kevin laugh. “Come on, baby – my place isn’t that bad!” he joked.

 

“Yes it is, you damn lazy bastard!” Robin bantered back. “If we didn’t have the wimp around, I don’t think this place would ever see the light of day. I’ll bet the last time anything’s been done around here was when Lester cleaned it last month while we were at the Stones concert.”

 

“Yeah? So what? So I’m a slob -- a slob with a big dick that you love so much.” While Kevin kidded his woman I sat there on the phone like an idiot, listening patiently to their repartee. “I’m not a wimp like your ol’ lester,” he continued. “I don’t like to clean. That’s women’s work – or girly-man work, like lester.”

 

“Hey, don’t give me that ‘woman’s work’ crap!” Robin joked back. “I’m all woman, but if you think I’m supposed to scrub your toilets, you’re crazy!”

 

Then, my wife addressed me in a totally different voice than the sweet lilting tones she was using with her lover: “Okay, lester, let’s go, get on over here and get started. You’ve got a lot to do, so you’re probably not gonna get much sleep tonight.”

 

“Yeah, girly-man,” Kevin hollered in the background. “Hurry up and come scrub my floors!”

 

“I’ll be r-r-right over,” I stammered. My wife hung up on me.

 

I looked at the clock on my nightstand. It was almost midnight. I was glad I’d gotten a few hours’ sleep – I had a feeling I was going to be up all night cleaning.

 

I sighed and began getting dressed again. I had mixed feelings: on one hand, I was deliriously happy, because I would finally get the chance to spend some time with my wife. My heart ached to be near her. I was tired of sitting home alone.

 

But on the other hand, I had absolutely no desire to face Kevin, especially when I was coming over there to serve as his damn maid. And I sure as hell wasn’t looking forward to cleaning all night while he snuggled with my wife in his comfortable bed.

 

I guess I should be used to Kevin by now. He’s been dating my wife for more than a year, and from the very beginning of their relationship, he took total control of me. I feel like a cowed puppy around him. I never know when he’s going to slap the shit out of me. Kevin gets pissed at me for the most mundane things, and he has no problem backhanding me across the face whenever the mood strikes him. I submissively put up with it all, because it makes Robin happy.

 

Well, “happy” may not be the word for it. She gets outright giddy watching her lover discipline me. She says it makes her horny to see me trembling at his feet. She says it’s primal and “erotic as hell,” and she encourages him at every opportunity to humiliate and defeat me.

 

Sometimes, if Robin is feeling particularly cruel, she’ll tell a lie in order to get Kevin to kick my ass. One of her favorites is, “oooh, Kevin, I just caught lester staring at my pussy!” Sometimes she actually does catch me looking, and sometimes it’s a total lie. Either way, I know I’m going to get my ass whipped. Sometimes Kevin will use a bamboo rod or a riding crop on me; other times, he just slaps me around.

 

As I kneel in trembling fear, afraid to watch as Kevin approaches me for my punishment, Robin will get comfortable on the couch or bed, her lips curled in a devilish smile, and watch her muscular boyfriend destroy me. Often, Robin will idly play with her pussy while she watches the show.

 

My beloved wife sure was excited last month, when Kevin gave me a black eye…

 

As I drove across town to Kevin’s condo, my mind drifted to what happened that night…

 

 

*   *   *

 

Kevin had come to our house that evening for his weekly romantic candlelight dinner with my wife. I made steaks. Usually, Kevin doesn’t say anything about my cooking, which means he likes it. But this time, he after he took a few bites, he slammed his fork down onto his plate.

 

“This fuckin’ steak tastes like shoe leather,” he growled.

 

“I-I am so sorry, sir,” I said, immediately falling to my knees. I figured the more submissive I acted, the better it would be for me.

 

Not tonight, though. Kevin wasn’t playing. “Sorry, my ass. Fuckin’ wimp -- get your ass over here, NOW!!!” he screamed.

 

Robin giggled as I shuffled frantically across the carpet on my knees. As soon as I got within reach, Kevin’s hand swayed back, then slashed forward, landing wickedly across my face. SLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAP!!

 

I fell to the carpet, curled up in the fetal position, and began weeping.

 

“Get your ass back up here!” Kevin yelled. “Get up here or I’ll knock your teeth down your throat!”

 

I reluctantly lifted myself back onto my knees, stars still swimming before my eyes. My wife laughed and pointed at me.

 

“Look, Kevin, you left your handprint on his face!” she squealed.

 

Kevin chuckled. “Yeah, it looks like that album cover!”

 

“See if you can do it again on the other side,” Robin urged.

 

“Sure thing, babe,” he answered cheerfully as he cocked his hand slowly back, then – BAM!!!! – giving me another hard slap across my chops.

 

This time I was able to stay upright, although my head snapped back violently from the blow. More tears formed. My wife laughed.

 

“Awwwww…tubby little lester-faggy-poo is cwying,” she said in her mocking baby-voice. “Poor lester – Kevin is such a meanie, isn’t he? Well, it’s your fault, lester -- you know Kevin doesn’t like his steak overcooked. Look up here, let’s see your face.”

 

I lifted my tear-stained face, and Robin smiled. “Ooh, honey, you did it!” she said to her lover. “Look, there’s your handprint right on his cheek. But, damn, now the other print is almost gone.”

 

“Oh, I can fix that,” Kevin said, rearing back and slapping me a third time. This time, though, he accidentally jammed his finger on the side of my head when he hit me.

 

“Owww!!! Goddamn it!” he bellowed in pain. In a flash, his fist slammed hard into my eye. I fell to the ground in a heap and once again assumed the fetal position. Already, I could feel my eye beginning to swell. I couldn’t stop sobbing.

 

Far above me, through a haze of shock and pain, I heard Robin purr. I peeked up and saw she was playing with herself. “Ooohh, baby, enough of this,” she moaned, her fingers a blur around her crotch. “You’re so fucking hot – take me to the bedroom, pleeeeeeeeeassssee…take me…up….stairs….”

 

Kevin didn’t say a word. He simply picked my wife up with a grunt and carried her up the stairs. As they ascended the steps, I peered at them out of my good eye. They were walking up the stairs slowly; every few steps, Kevin would stop and kiss my wife. Then he’d carry her up another step or two, and kiss her again. Finally, they reached the top and disappeared into our bedroom.

 

For the next hour, I cried into the living room carpet, holding my wounded eye, which was now swollen completely shut, and listened to them fuck. Later, when they were finished, I was summoned to fetch the usual drinks and towels. When I entered the bedroom, they both cracked up at my black eye.

 

“Damn, Kevin, you really got him good,” Robin said as I set her glass of wine onto her nightstand. “Now, that’s a shiner!”

 

“Well, the faggot deserved it,” Kevin said. Then, he said to me: “Bring my beer over here, fag, then run downstairs and get some pretzels. I’m still hungry – I couldn’t eat that piece of shit you called a T-bone!”

 

Robin chimed in, “bring up the ranch dip, too, Lester. And hurry up, or I’ll have Kevin black your other eye.”

 

I slinked out of the room to the humiliating sound of their laughter.

 

 

*   *   *

 

My mind wandered all over the place as I drove across town to Kevin’s place. All that thinking made the time go by faster, and before I knew it I was pulling into Kevin’s parking lot.

 

My heart was beating like crazy as I tapped timidly on Kevin’s door. No answer. I must have shivered outside in the cold for a good five minutes before I got up the nerve to knock again, louder this time.

 

“Come on in,” I heard Kevin drawl. I stepped apprehensively into the condo. A wave of jealously washed over me as soon as I saw them: Robin was cuddled up to Kevin on the large overstuffed sofa. The two lovebirds looked so comfortable snuggled up beneath an afghan blanket. I sighed sadly. Why couldn’t I be the one cuddled up on the couch to my own wife?

 

The second I walked into the room, Robin started barking orders: “Okay, Lester, the first thing you need to do is get us a fire started, it’s chilly in here, then, you’re going to the store to pick us up something to drink.”

 

“Yes, Robin.” I hung my head, turned on my heels, and submissively walked to the attached garage, where Kevin kept the firewood.

 

It didn’t take long for me to get the fire going. As I was stoking the wood, Robin said, “I hope you’ve been getting your rest, Lester, because you’ve got a whoooooooooooooollle lot of work to do tonight. I want this place really clean. I mean spotless, Lester. Scrub all the floors, wash the walls, clean the fridge — everything. You’re going to be a busy little wimp; don’t expect to get much sleep tonight,” she said, snuggling closer to her boyfriend with a lazy smile.

 

I put down the poker and turned to face them. “Yes, Robin.”

 

Kevin looked at me from his comfortable perch and smiled smugly. “Damn, Lester, it must really suck to be you,” he said.

 

I lowered my eyes. Tears began to form.

 

Kevin turned to my wife, squeezed her shoulder, and kissed her forehead. “Punkin’, thanks again for letting me have use of your little hubby here,” he said. “I fucking hate cleaning, and having a queer like him around to do it is really cool.”

 

“Oh, no problem,” Robin said. “You know anything that’s mine is yours. I’m gonna have him start coming over once a week to clean. I don’t like clutter, and you sure as hell aren’t going to do it.”

 

“Once a week, huh? Sounds good to me,” Kevin smiled, kissing my wife on her head again.

 

Robin purred. “Like I said, baby, anything that’s mine is yours.”

 

Kevin reached down and rubbed my wife’s pussy through her sweats. “Anything that’s yours is mine, huh?” he teased. “Even this?”

 

Robin threw back her head and sucked in a breath as her lover manipulated her pussy. “Oh, God, yes, especially that.”

 

I stood there patiently, trying not to ogle them while they made out. I’ve been slapped many times for watching them too closely during their intimate moments.

 

After a few minutes they broke their kiss. Robin noticed me standing there.

 

“What are you still doing here?” she hissed. “I told you to go to the liquor store!”

 

“Yeah, hurry up, pencil-dick,” Kevin said smugly as he draped his arm possessively around my wife. “Finish up with that fire, then go get me a fifth of Jim Beam.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“And I want strawberry wine coolers,” Robin said.

 

“Yes, Mistress.”

 

Within five minutes I was on my way to the store.

 

Luckily, there was a liquor store a few blocks away. I was able to get there and back quickly. When I returned, I stood at Kevin’s door for a few minutes, wondering if I should just go in or knock. I decided to play it safe and knock.

 

“Come in,” Kevin said.

 

As soon as I walked through the door, Robin said, “on the rocks, lester, and hurry up, I’m thirsty.”

 

“Yes, Mistress.”

 

“Same thing here,” Kevin piped in. “And, you know what? Bring me the bag of barbeque chips while you’re at it.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

I brought out a tray with their drinks and a big bowl of potato chips. I made sure to put plenty of napkins on the tray.

 

As soon as their drinks and snacks were served, Robin said, “all righty, then, lester, time to get to work — the condo isn’t going to clean itself.”

 

“Yes, Mistress.”

 

I was full of resentment as I headed for the kitchen. They looked so comfortable, kicked back on the couch, watching me leave for an evening of hard work.

 

I decided to start on the mountain of dishes. I started with the easy stuff like plates and silverware first, while I soaked the pots and pans.

 

I was up to my elbows in soapy water when I heard my wife’s voice: “leeeeesssttteerr!!! Come here!”

 

I dried my hands and rushed into the living room. Robin was holding her empty wine glass, daintily moving it back and forth.

 

“I need a refill here,” she said casually.

 

“Yes, Mistress. Are you ready for another one, too, sir?”

 

Kevin rattled his ice, surveying the liquor that remained in the glass. Then he took a long swig and held his empty glass out to me. “Sure, lester, gimme another one.”

 

After their drinks were served, I again tackled the dishes. It took over an hour to finish the dishes, and before I started scrubbing the kitchen floor, I looked at the clock on the microwave. It was 1:30 in the morning. Were Robin and Kevin planning to stay up much longer?

 

I got my answer a few minutes after I began scrubbing the tile floor. “lester, get in here,” Kevin called gruffly.

 

They were smoking a joint when I reported to them.

 

“We both want our feet done,” Kevin said. “Start with Robin.”

 

“Yes, sir.” I rushed to get the lotion, and started massaging my wife’s feet while they finished their joint and watched a movie. From what I could hear, it was “Die Hard 3.” Kevin always watched what he wanted to watch – at home, I would never be permitted to watch a “guy flick” like that.

 

They ignored me while I worked lotion into Robin’s feet. After about a half-hour, Robin announced, “you’re done. Now do Kevin.”

 

Kevin held up his empty whiskey glass. He must have been pretty drunk, because he said, “I’m done with this, but bring me a glass of iced tea.”

 

“Make that two,” Robin sighed, melting into her lover’s arms.

 

After I served the iced tea, I knelt in front of Kevin and began administering his foot massage. He hugged my wife contentedly and watched his movie while I submissively massaged his feet.

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kevin picking his nose. “Oh, no!” I thought. I knew what was coming.

 

After a second, he held his finger out to me. “Booger,” he said simply, and I leaned forward and sucked the disgusting thing off the end of his finger, like I’ve done dozens of times before. It was all I could do not to gag. When I was done, he wiped his finger dry on my hair and said, “okay, back to my feet.”

 

Robin crinkled up her nose. “Damn it, Kevin, I told you to stop doing that shit when I’m around,” she complained. “That’s fucking nasty!”

 

Kevin laughingly apologized. “I’m sorry, honey, but what am I supposed to do, wipe it underneath the couch? You’re always bitching about how I’m a slob, so I’m trying to keep things clean.

 

“Besides,” he added with a sneer, “the old pervert likes it. Don’t you lester?”

 

“Yes, sir,” I lied.

 

“’Yes, sir,’ what?” Kevin berated. He wanted me to say the humiliating words, which I did:

 

“I like eating your boogers, sir,” I croaked.

 

Robin shook her head. “I don’t care what lester’s old ass wants, that shit is nasty and I really wish you wouldn’t do it in front of me.”

 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Kevin said. “I won’t do it again. Let’s finish watching the movie.”

 

I felt like the lowest piece of shit in the universe as I continued rubbing Kevin’s feet.

 

Finally, the movie ended, and Kevin had me put a pair of sweat socks onto his feet. Then they sauntered off to bed.

 

As they walked toward the bedroom, Kevin called over his shoulder, “have everything done by the morning, because I’ve got friends coming over to watch the game tomorrow.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

My wife added, “and make sure all my clothes are washed and ready by tomorrow. I’m running low, and you won’t have time to run home and get more.”

 

“Yes, Mistress.”

 

With that, they went into the bedroom and closed the door. As I resumed scrubbing the kitchen floor, I could hear my wife’s howls of pleasure coming from the bedroom….

 

“Cleaning Kevin’s place,” part 2

By c.w. cobblestone

 

 

I spent more than an hour on my hands and knees scrubbing Kevin’s kitchen floor. The whole time, I was taunted by Robin’s dirty screams of pleasure coming from the bedroom.

 

“Kevin must be fucking her real good tonight,” I thought ruefully as I set down my scrub brush and listened to my wife moan through the walls for a moment.

 

“It sure must be nice to be Kevin. He gets my wife…gets to be inside her…feel her soft skin….her kisses. And what do I get? I get to scrub his fucking kitchen floor.” Sighing, I continued my humbling, difficult work.

 

Hey, nobody said it was easy being a slave. Day by day, I lost another piece of my soul. Every day, a new humiliation. All for Robin. I had to endure it, no matter what. Years ago, I promised my wife I would serve her forever, in any way she saw fit. She agreed to let me serve her, but she insisted we do it her way, no questions asked.

 

So, if Robin wanted to have a boyfriend, I would grit my teeth and put up with it. And if Robin wanted me to clean her boyfriend’s condo…well, I would smile like a wimp and do that, too.

 

I just wish she had fallen for a nicer guy. Kevin is an asshole. Well, I guess he treats Robin okay, but he sure doesn’t worship her the way I do. He takes her for granted a lot. For instance, sometimes he’ll fall asleep after fucking her, leaving her horny and wanting an orgasm.

 

Robin used to come into my room once in awhile when her lover left her high and dry like that, and order me to lick her pussy. Of course, I was in heaven whenever she would visit my room, even if her pussy was full of Kevin’s cum.

 

But Kevin put the kibosh on that pleasure, at least for a long time. One day he caught me sniffing Robin’s panties, and he put me on six months’ probation.

 

“In six months, if you don’t fuck up, you can use your tongue on Robin again,” Kevin said.

 

“Thank you,” was all I could say.

 

I have five months left to go. I’ve been busting my ass, bowing and scraping and demeaning myself so that I can get my licking privileges back.

 

Lost in thought, I continued scrubbing Kevin’s kitchen floor. Eventually, my wife’s screams died down.

 

I was just starting to apply the first coat of wax to the porcelain floor tiles when I heard my wife call out, “Tim, we need refills in here!”

 

I jumped to obey. When I entered Kevin’s bedroom, I saw them snuggled up under the thick comforter, smoking a joint and watching television.

 

“Get towels first,” Robin said when she saw me.

 

I turned toward the master bathroom and fetched two towels. The bathroom was a complete mess, of course. I’d be up all night cleaning for sure.

 

I offered each of my masters a post-coital towel, and they un-erotically wiped their genitals clean and handed the towels back to me without even looking my way. I put the dirty towels in the laundry bin, then brought my wife another wine cooler, and her lover another Jim Beam and Coke. I was grateful that I hadn’t started waxing the floor yet, or I would have had to do it all over again by fetching their drinks!

 

As I set Kevin’s drink on his nightstand, he said, “you know what, Tim? Since you’re over here, why don’t you go ahead and detail my truck when you’re done cleaning the condo?”

 

“Yes, sir,” I answered, trying to hide the bitter taste. His truck takes more than two hours to clean – so now, I knew for sure I wasn’t going to be getting to bed until at least noon!

 

I stood silently by their bed for a moment, then asked respectfully, “is there anything else I can do for you?”

 

My wife waved her hand. “No, go,” she said, never taking her eyes off the television set.

 

I returned to waxing the kitchen floor. That took about a half hour, then I moved into the living room. I wiped down all the tables, cleaned the TV, washed the walls and baseboards. As usual, I saved the vacuuming for last.

 

I turned on the vacuum cleaner, and within seconds I heard Kevin bellow, “turn that God-damn thing off!” I immediately shut it off.

 

I wasn’t sure if I should just wait until morning to vacuum the carpet, so I apprehensively went back into the bedroom.

 

I stood nervously in the doorway.

 

“Yeah, what is it, Tim?” Robin said after a minute.

 

“Um…well, I was just wondering if I should wait until morning to vacuum, so it won’t disturb you,” I said.

 

My wife looked at her lover, awaiting his answer.

 

Kevin smirked. “No, Tim, do it the old-fashioned way,” he drawled. “Use a broom and dustpan.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

So I spent an hour on my hands and knees, using a whiskbroom to get all the ashes and potato chip crumbs out of Kevin’s carpet – a job that would have only taken about 10 minutes with the vacuum cleaner. By the time I’d finished in the living room, all was quiet in Kevin’s bedroom, and I figured they must have gone to sleep.

 

As I toiled the night away, I tortured myself with images of my wife and her lover snuggled up in the big bed.

 

It was difficult cleaning the bathroom, because it was right next to Kevin’s bedroom, and I knew if I scrubbed too vigorously, the sound might wake one of them up, and woe betide my ass if that should happen! So I had to scrub quietly, while still trying to get the stains out. It wasn’t easy, but I did it.

 

Finally, at 6 in the morning, I was finished with Kevin’s condo. I quietly grabbed the keys to Kevin’s truck, which he left on the table for me, and went down to the carport to his truck. He had given me permission to take the truck to a self-serve car wash, because there was no way to get water in the condo parking lot.

 

Kevin’s truck was as bad as his condo. There were fast food bags in the area behind the seat, and there were ashes everywhere. As I figured, it took more than two hours to clean his truck the way he likes it cleaned. By the time I’d finished, and drove his truck back to his condo, I was beat.

 

I wasn’t sure if Robin and Kevin wanted me to go back to the condo, or go back home. I stood in the parking lot for a half hour, trying to decide what to do. Finally, I figured I’d better go home, since they hadn’t specifically told me they wanted me to stay.

 

It was past 9 by the time I got home, and I flopped down on the bed, ready to finally get some sleep. Just as I closed my eyes, though, the sound of the phone jolted me awake.

 

“H-hello?” I knew who it was before I even answered it.

 

She started on me immediately: “What the hell are you doing home? Who’s supposed to cook our breakfast? What the hell, are we supposed to get up and make it ourselves?”

 

“I-I’m sorry, Robin,” I whined. “I didn’t know you wanted me to stay, since you didn’t tell me to…”

 

“Well, I shouldn’t have to tell you everything, you twerp,” she shot back. “Now get your ass over here and make us breakfast.”

 

“Yeah, and hurry up too, twerp!” I heard Kevin say. “I’m fuckin’ hungry!”

 

Click.