"Julie" Part 1
by c.w. cobblestone
Julie came bouncing into the house with her best friend Diana at her
heels. It was already past 7 p.m.; usually my wife came home much
earlier from her Saturday shopping trips. Since it had rained all
day, I’d thought she might get home even sooner than normal, but
apparently not.
I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing the flagstone foyer when they
came in. I was mortified to be caught in such a humble position, but
it didn’t faze either of the ladies as they regally swept past me,
tracking mud with every step.
My crestfallen eyes followed their path as they casually sullied the
polished foyer and then the beige living room carpet before plopping
down on either end of the sofa.
“Walter, our bags are in the car; bring ‘em in and then fix us a
couple drinks,” my wife said. Then, noticing the mud they’d tracked
in, she added nonchalantly, “Oh, and you better get this carpet
before that mud sets in.”
Diana giggled as she kicked off her mud-caked leather boots. “Poor
Waldo,” she said. “You just can’t catch a break, can you?”
I remained silent. Diana giggled again. “Hey, Waldo, guess what?
Julie’s got a big surprise for you!”
Julie grinned at her friend conspiratorially and I cocked my head
like a curious dog. My wife looked at me and her smile disappeared.
“The bags, Waldo. Drinks. The floor. Don’t just kneel there with a
rag in your hand like a beached whale. Move!”
“Y-yes, ma’am,” I stammered, scrambling to my feet to the sound of
Diana’s bitchy laughter.
I fetched their bags from Julie’s Lexus; it took three trips to bring
in all their purchases, which, judging from the store names on the
bags, had set me back several hundred dollars. Then I made their
drinks: The usual Amaretto Rose for my wife, and a Bacardi Martini
for Diana.
As I set Diana’s drink on the coffee table in front of her, she
said, “C’mon, Julie, show the dweeb the gift you got him. Well, it’s
not exactly for him. But that’s okay.”
Julie shared a giggle with her friend, took a dainty sip from her
drink, and stood up.
“Okay, Waldo, I’ll let you see, but only if you promise not to cry,”
my wife said. I didn’t understand, and my mind was whirling as I
wordlessly watched her unsnap her jeans. In a single move she turned
away from me as she worked her pants down around her hips with one
hand, while lifting the back of her blouse with the other hand. I was
even more curious when I saw a bandage affixed to the small of her
back.
She reached back and gingerly peeled off the gauze, revealing an
intricate, feminine “tramp-stamp” tattoo. My jaw dropped.
“Show him the other one, Julie,” Diana tittered.
My wife turned to face me and lowered her jeans even further. She
hooked her thumb into the waistband of her purple thong panties and
moved the material aside. I gasped when I saw another tattoo: A small
heart on the top right side of her pelvis, just above her pubic hair;
inside the heart was the fancy script lettering: K-E-V-I-N
I hung my head in shame. My wife was now marked forever with her
boyfriend’s sickening name. I would never again worship her pussy
without having it stare right at me.
“Whaddya think, Waldo?” Diana sneered. “Don’t those tattoos look sexy
on your wife? Don’t you think Kevin is just going to LOVE 'em?
I said nothing. Tears began to form around my eyes.
“You promised not to cry, Walter,” my wife chided me. “Don’t you want
me and Kevin to be happy?”
“Y-yes, ma’am,” I sniffled.
“Well, then you’d better quit your whining,” she said, pulling up her
pants. “Unless you want me to tell Kevin you’re bitching about our
relationship again.”
I froze with fear. There was no way I wanted to repeat the events of
last May, when I made the fatal mistake of trying to break up my wife
and her lover.
*************************************
They had been seeing each other for a month, and I could tell Julie
was getting serious about him. So one night, as she was getting ready
to go out with him, I decided to make a stand.
I told her this had to stop. It was one thing for us to be in a
femdom relationship, as we had been from the very beginning of our
five-year marriage. And, I told her, I hadn’t even complained when
she began seeing other men. I’d shown great understanding when she
informed me that she was a “normal woman” who needed “normal sex,”
and that this “slave thing” had been my idea, not hers. I wanted to
make her happy, so I acquiesced. I stood by and said nothing as she
fucked other guys under my nose.
But this thing with Kevin was getting out of hand, I told
her. “You’re seeing him 4 or 5 times a week,” I lamented.
My attempt to get Julie to stop seeing Kevin couldn’t have went more
wrong. The whole thing backfired: Instead of listening to reason,
Julie flipped out and slapped the shit out of me.
“Listen, you fat piece of shit, I’ll see anyone I want to, as often
as I want to,” she snarled as I bent down in pain holding my hand to
my injured face.
She cuffed me on the back of my head. “Walter, if you don’t like the
way things are around here, then fine …quot; leave,” she snarled. “I’ll
divorce your ass so fast it’ll make you head swim; and you’ll be
fucking homeless, too, because I’ll take you for every dime you’ve
got.”
I immediately backed down, begging over and over for her forgiveness.
An evil glint flashed in her eye as she realized she had me by the
balls. And that was that.
But my ordeal wasn’t quite over that fateful evening. When Kevin
arrived to pick Julie up for their date, she told him how I’d
attempted to break them up.
“But Walter and I had a little talk, and now the fat wimp understands
what’s what,” she told her boyfriend. “Isn’t that right, Walter?”
“Y-yes.” I said, averting my eyes so I didn’t have to endure Kevin’s
smirk.
“It’s good you understand, Waldo,” Kevin said. “But I don’t
appreciate you trying to come between me and my woman. In fact, it
downright pisses me off.”
Julie kissed her lover’s bicep and purred, “That’s it, baby. The wimp
really needs to be shown who’s boss. Show him who’s boss, Kevin.”
“No problem,” he answered, leaning over and tongue-kissing my wife
for a brief moment. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed to the
ground in front of him. “Come on over here, Waldo; get on your knees.”
Trembling, I knelt in front of him. My blood ran cold as I saw him
start to remove his belt.
“Drop your drawers,” he said resolutely. My hands shook as I fumbled
with the zipper. I lowered my pants as far as they would go to my
knees.
“Tighty-whiteys, too, lard-ass!” he said. Julie cracked up.
After I complied, Kevin walked behind me and ordered, “face to the
carpet, Dumbo, ass up in the air.”
Julie snickered again as I struggled into the kowtow position. Then,
suddenly, I felt a jolt of pain as his belt slashed across my
ass. “Count ‘em out loud, Waldo,” Kevin said in a sing-song voice.
“Ow! One. Ow! Two. T-Three …quot; Ow! Four.”
He finally quit after 30 strokes. I was crying like a baby; the
carpet under my face was completely soaked from my slobber and tears.
“Sit up, Waldo,” Kevin said. Through the tearful haze, I could see
him unzipping his pants as he moved closer to me. Silver pins of fear
chilled my blood as I wondered what he was about to do.
He whipped out his huge dick and I couldn’t help but gasp.
“I know,” he sneered. “Impressive, huh?” Julie chuckled.
I didn’t answer him. “Get over here,” he finally said after a few
seconds of silence. The tears in my eyes welled anew as I shuffled
toward him on my knees until his dick was two inches from my face. He
grabbed his cock at its base and suddenly slapped me hard across the
face with it, causing Julie to go into hysterics. I cringed as he
brought it back across the other side of my face, this time smashing
his flesh blackjack across my eye, causing it to throb violently. I
was thoroughly humiliated. But I hadn’t yet hit rock-bottom.
“Now tell me, ‘Thank you, sir, for dick-slapping me,’” Kevin ordered.
I choked on my shame and could barely utter the words: “Thank you,
sir, for slapping me.”
“For DICK-slapping me,” Kevin corrected.
“For dick-slapping me.”
Julie interjected, “Say the whole thing, asshole …quot; show some respect
for my man.”
I swallowed hard. “T-thank you, sir, for dick-slapping me.”
“No problem,” Kevin said flippantly, zipping up his fly. “Julie might
be your wife, but she’s my woman. Understand that, do as I say, and
we won’t have a problem.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s great to have a man around the house, baby,” Julie said,
tilting her head back to allow Kevin to kiss her.
Then, having established the new world order, they left for their
date.
*************************************
I vigorously scrubbed the mud off the living room carpet while Julie
and her friend Diana chatted on the couch.
Suddenly, Julie’s cell phone beeped. It was the tone that told her
she had a text message.
She flipped open her phone and read the message. A sly smile slowly
crept across her face.
“It’s Kevin, the horny bastard,” Julie said, holding her phone out so
her friend could see the message.
“Oh, my!” Diana laughed. “That sounds serious!”
I wondered what Kevin had texted to my wife, but they never did say.
“He’s so damn horny …quot; I mean, he wants to do it all the time,” Julie
said as she texted a reply to her boyfriend onto the small keypad of
her phone. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
“Well, he’s gonna be a lot hornier when he sees your tattoos,” Diana
said. “You said he’s been after you for a long time to get them.”
“I know; I can’t wait to see the look on his face tonight,” Julie
said excitedly. “Although I’m not sure if I want to do any fooling
around until the tattoos heal up.”
“You’ll just have to get on top for awhile …quot; and tell him not to slap
that ass,” Diana offered, and they shared a sisterly laugh.
I burned with shame as I toiled below them, listening to them
casually discuss my wife’s infidelity as if I didn’t exist.
Julie leaned back and took a sip of her drink. “Maybe you should
invite
arrogant boyfriend.
“Oh, yeah,
remember when my boyfriend came over here last time? Remember he made
you shove a hot dog up your ass?”
“Yes, Miss Diana, I remember,” I muttered, bitterly recalling
punishment for having put mustard on his hot dog instead of ketchup.
My wife drained her drink and rattled the ice. “Hey, Waldo, I’m ready
for another one here. How 'bout you, Diana?”
“Nah, I’ve got to get going pretty soon,” Diana answered. “Besides,
you’ve got to get ready for your date with Kevin tonight.”
“I know, it’s getting late,” Julie sighed, handing me her empty glass
without even looking my way.
When I returned to the living room with my wife’s drink, Diana was
holding one of her boots, frowning at it.
“Damn, I got mud all over these from that stupid unpaved parking
lot,” she said. “Julie, do you mind if I have the wimp clean them for
me before I go?”
“Of course not,” Julie said.
Diana tossed the boot she was holding at me and kicked the other one
in my direction. “Hurry up, Waldo, make ‘em spotless.”
They talked some more while I cleaned and polished Diana’s boots.
When I was finished, I presented them to her.
“Okay, Julie, I’ll call you,” she said, taking the boots from me
without so much of a thank-you. She put the boots on and walked out
the door.
After Diana left, Julie told me to draw her a hot bath. While she
soaked in the bathtub, relaxing before her date, I got back to
scrubbing the mud from the carpet.
“Julie” part 2
by c.w. cobblestone
I was up to my elbows in soapy dishwater and my eyes were
filled with tears. I tried to concentrate on scrubbing the pots and pans, but
it was no use – I just couldn’t block out the throbbing pain in my nose.
My misery was caused by a roach clip that dangled from the skin
between my nostrils. I didn’t have the guts to remove it. What a wimp I was.
I was startled out of my silent soliloquy of self-pity when
I heard my wife’s voice bellow: “Walter! What are you doing?”
With the water running I hadn’t heard the front door open. I
hastily turned off the faucet, wiped my hands on a dishtowel, and rushed into
the living room. An icy pang of sadness shot through me when I saw that Kevin
was sitting on the couch next to Julie. I sighed and shuffled submissively
across the carpet. I bowed my head as I approached them.
When Kevin noticed the roach clip affixed to my nose, he
busted out laughing.
“Oh, shit, that must hurt!” he said. “Ouch!” Then, turning
to Julie, he said, “Jeez, girl, you come up with some crazy-ass punishments! What
did poor Waldo do this time?”
Julie sneered at me. “Tell Kevin what you did, Walter.”
I wanted to die.
“Um…I….I –“
I couldn’t get the words out.
“Tell him.” Her voice was more forceful.
“Um…I…I looked at Mistress Julie’s vagina in a lustful
manner while I was getting her ready for your date, sir,” I croaked.
Kevin threw back his head and busted up laughing. “Can’t see
as how I blame you, Waldo,” he chortled. “She does have a pretty little pussy,
doesn’t she?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer, so I just kind of cleared my
throat and hoped that would suffice.
Julie playfully nudged her lover in the ribs. “Stop it,
Kevin,” she chided. “Seriously, I don’t want him ogling me. I was shaving my
legs and he was supposed to be shining my shoes and I caught him staring right
between my legs.”
“All I’m sayin’ is, I don’t blame the poor wimp for looking
at your pussy – I’m sorry; make that your precious ‘vagina,’” he corrected himself, mocking the word I must always use
when referring to my wife’s genitalia.
“Screw you, buddy,” Julie kidded back. “My vagina IS
precious.”
Kevin suddenly began tickling Julie under her arm, causing
her to squeal.
“You think you’re a just hot little bitch, don’t you?” he asked
as Julie squirmed in a futile attempt to escape his mischievous fingers. “You
think that little pussy of yours is made out of gold, don’t you?”
“Yes! And you think that cock of yours is God’s gift to the
world,” Julie said between giggles.
“My cock IS God’s gift to the world!” Kevin retorted. He
grunted as she managed to wiggle out of his grip, although her freedom only
lasted instant an before he pinned her shoulders and started tickling her
again.
I felt like an idiot standing there fidgeting while they
wrestled on the couch and tossed good-natured barbs at each other. Finally they
tired of the game, and the grappling morphed into a kiss. I averted my eyes; I
certainly didn’t want to be accused of “ogling” them while they made out.
After a few minutes, they broke their kiss, and Julie
addressed me.
“We need drinks in here, Walter,” she said, her voice taking
a drastic turn from the lilting, feminine tone she’d used only moments earlier
with her lover.
“Yes, Mistress.”
I was back in an instant. I served Julie her Amaretto Rose
and then handed Kevin his usual Sam Adams.
“Thanks,” he said. “Oh, by the way, Waldo, my condo’s in bad
shape; I had the guys over the other night to watch the game. You need to get
over there asap – I don’t want to wait until next Saturday.”
“Yes, sir.” I gritted my teeth. Saturday was my usual day
for cleaning Kevin’s condo, but now he’d just tacked an extra day of work to my
already busy schedule. Scrubbing his condo from top to bottom the way he and
Julie insist I do it takes a good six or seven hours.
“Oh, and you know what? Tomorrow you need to pick me up
three tickets for the Bears game,” Kevin added. Then he told Julie, “
“Cool, maybe Diana and I will go shopping,” she said.
“Just as long as you buy something sexy for me,” Kevin said,
leaning in and kissing her neck. My wife purred. Then she opened her eyes and
caught my gaze.
“Walter, get the hell out of here,” she snarled. “Nobody
wants you standing there watching us kiss. Go back to whatever you were doing.”
Kevin guffawed. “Yeah, you perv,” he called after me as I
sadly walked out of the room. “Keep ogling your mistress, and I’ll put a roach
clip on your little dinky!”
“Julie” part 3
by c.w. cobblestone
Our 5th wedding anniversary fell on a Saturday.
What a way to celebrate – I spent all day cleaning Kevin’s condo while he and
my wife went sailing on the lake.
At least I had something to look forward to while I cleaned:
The previous evening, Julie had promised me a very special anniversary present.
For the first time in nine months, she was going to let me worship her vagina.
Kevin doesn’t like me going anywhere near “his woman,” so my
opportunities for intimacy with my wife have pretty much died up. The closest I
usually get to her is when I give her a foot massage.
But when Julie came home from shopping Friday afternoon, she
was really happy with the way I’d painted the living room. Since her
compliments are so few and far between, and I live for any crumb of praise she
throws my way, I told her how happy I was that she liked the paint job, and I
gushed about how lucky I felt to be married to her for five years.
When I mentioned our anniversary, Julie put her hand to her
mouth and stifled a giggle.
“Well, sorry, Walter, I forgot all about it,” she said. “You
understand, don’t you, sweetie?”
“Yes, Mistress, it’s okay.”
“It’s just that Kevin’s the man in my life now,” she
explained. “That means I have to concentrate on him. I mean, seriously, it’s
not exactly like you and I are really married any more, even if it is still technically
legal. Right? I just never bothered to get a divorce that’s all. I haven’t
thought of you as my husband in ages; you’re my slave now. If anyone’s my
husband, Kevin is. Right?”
“Yes, Mistress. I understand.”
Her words cut me to the bone, but I bit my lip and fought
back the tears. Julie picked up on my sadness.
“Awww, poor you. You’re such a brave little slave, aren’t
you? Always sacrificing yourself for me.” She smiled patronizingly. “And I know
I can be a real bitch sometimes, can’t I?”
“No, Mistress, you’re not a bitch.”
“Yes I am. To you, I am,” she replied. “But I’ll tell you
what: Since you did such a good job painting my living room, and since you’ve
been working so hard for me and Kevin, I’m going to give you a little treat.
Tomorrow, as your anniversary present, I’m going to let you lick my pussy.
How’s that?”
“Oh, my gosh!” I exclaimed. Blood rushed to my face as I fell
to my knees.
“Thank you, Mistress, thank you so much! I-I-um…Mistress,
thank you so much…”
Julie held up her hand. “Don’t mention it,” she smiled again.
“Poor thing, how long has it been since you licked me?”
My eyes welled with tears. “Nine months, Mistress.”
She chuckled. “Awwww, my poor little slave is crying. Walter,
you know Kevin doesn’t like you licking me; that’s why you don’t get to do it
more often. But I know; it’s hard for you, isn’t it? Life just isn’t fair, is
it?”
I didn’t know what to say. “Um…I don’t know. I just want
whatever you want, Mistress.”
“That’s the right answer,” she said patting me on my cheek.
“But forget about mean old Kevin – tomorrow, we’re going to give you a treat!”
“Um, Mistress?”
“Yes, Walter?”
“Is it okay if I give you your gift now, instead of waiting
until tomorrow?” This was an emotional moment for me, and I wanted to keep it
going.
“Sure, bring it here.”
I scurried into the basement and retrieved the diamond
bracelet I’d bought her, and the card which bore the carefully-penned message
I’d spent hours composing.
I presented the wrapped jewelry box and the card like a
proud three-year-old showing a drawing to his mommy. Julie glanced at the card briefly
and tossed it aside without even reading my message. She then opened her gift,
and to my further dismay she obviously wasn’t impressed.
“It’s nice, but it’s a little too gaudy, don’t you think?”
she put the bracelet on her wrist and crinkled her nose at it. “I mean, I don’t
ever get dressed up enough to wear something like this. It’s too showy.”
Noticing my sadness, she added, “but it’s the thought that
counts, Walter. Thank you. Did you keep the receipt? Maybe I can take it back
and exchange it.”
“Yes, Mistress, I kept the receipt,” I mumbled sadly.
“How much did you pay for it?” she asked with a glint in her
eye.
“$2,700.”
“Oh, good,” she said. “That should be enough for me to get
something for myself, and maybe buy Kevin something, too.”
I had to fight back the tears as she continued rambling.
“Maybe I’ll get him a gold necklace; I always liked how a
nice gold necklace looks on a man’s hairy chest.” She either didn’t know how
much she was hurting me, or else she didn’t care. She took off the bracelet I’d
bought her and tossed it onto the coffee table next to the card she didn’t
read.
I stood there lamely for a few seconds, and then asked, “Um,
is there anything else I can do for you, Mistress, or should I go back to
cleaning?”
“No, I’m done with you,” she said, pushing the card and her
new bracelet away from her. “Clean this stuff up and put that bracelet
somewhere with the receipt.”
“Yes, Mistress. And…Mistress?”
“Yeah, Walter?” Julie sighed, obviously annoyed with me now.
“I just wanted to say, I don’t know how to thank you,
Mistress, for – for letting me worship you for our anniversary.”
“Okay, now you’re repeating yourself. Go on back to your cleaning,
Walter. Kevin will be here soon. He’s spending the night, and we’re going to
leave for the lake first thing in the morning. So make sure you get everything packed
tonight.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
I walked on eggshells the rest of the evening, making sure I
did nothing that would cause Julie to change her mind. When Kevin arrived I
bent over backward to make sure he was comfortable, too. He noticed my extra enthusiasm.
“What gives, Waldo?” he asked as I was serving him a cold
beer. “You’ve got a little pep in your step tonight; if I didn’t know better,
I’d swear you were trying to get your heart rate going and maybe lose some of
that blubber off of your ass.”
I faked a smile as I set his beer down in front of him. I desperately
wanted to avoid the subject of why I was so eager to please. If Kevin found out
Julie had given me permission to lick her vagina the next day, there was a
chance he might put the kibosh on the whole thing.
Luckily, nothing else was said about my mood. Julie sat on
the couch next to her lover, but she was engrossed in a magazine article and
she hadn’t even heard my conversation with Kevin. I retrieved his empty beer
bottle and got the hell out of there as quickly as I could. And for the rest of
the evening I toned down my brown-nosing and just served them like normal.
Kevin and Julie went to bed fairly early Friday night in
anticipation of their boating trip, leaving a 7 a.m. wakeup call. I crashed
shortly after they retired. I knew I had a long day ahead of me, too. Saturday
was my day to clean Kevin’s condo, and that’s always a lot of work. So as soon
as I’d packed everything for Julie and Kevin’s boating trip, I trudged to my
lonely room in the basement and hit the hay.
I awoke at 6:20 a.m. Saturday morning and immediately began fixing
breakfast for my wife and her lover. Everything was ready by 6:50, so I sat
down and enjoyed a cup of coffee, watching the clock tick away the last few minutes
until it was time to wake them up.
At precisely one minute to seven, I lugged the breakfast
tray up the stairs and stood outside my wife’s bedroom door for a few seconds
before setting the tray onto the hallway table and cautiously opening the door.
“Uh, Mistress? Sir? It’s 7 a.m.” I said in a quiet,
respectful tone. I turned on the bedroom light.
Mistress rolled over and glared at me through sleepy, angry
eyes. “Turn that goddamn light off!” she snapped. I nearly tripped as I hastily
turned and flicked off the switch.
“Turn the table lamp on; nobody wants that bright overhead light
shining in their eyes first thing in the morning, dumbass!” she snarled,
rubbing her eyes. I obeyed, and then retreated to the hall to get the breakfast
tray. Julie must’ve been in a cranky mood, I thought – she never complained
about my turning on the light before.
I stood at the foot of their bed holding the tray while they
gathered themselves. Kevin yawned and scratched his balls while Julie
stretched, causing the thin silver strap of her nightgown to slide off her
creamy shoulder.
“Hold on for a minute; I’ve gotta go pee,” Julie told me.
She rolled out of bed and brushed past me, obviously in a hurry.
I felt awkward standing there holding the tray, while Kevin was
kicked back on the pillows with his hands clasped behind his head like a king.
I bowed my head and listened to the sound of Julie tinkling in the master
bathroom.
Kevin finally noticed me standing there.
“Listen, Waldo, when you go over to my place today, make
sure you spray some of that carpet foamy stuff on the living room rug; I
spilled beer in there the other night when the guys were over,” he said. “In
fact, why dontcha go to the store and rent a steam cleaner? That way you can
really get the carpet good.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And make sure you polish the chrome on my Harley this time,”
he continued. “Last week it looked dull. That’s inexcusable. You hear?”
“Y-yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”
“Sorry, my ass. Don’t let it happen again, dickweed” he said
firmly.
“No, sir, I won’t, sir.”
Julie returned to the bedroom and then Kevin threw back the
covers and climbed out of bed. He ambled past me toward the bathroom, his big
dick swinging with each step.
The tray was getting kind of heavy and I was happy to hear
Julie say, “Well, don’t just stand there, I’m starving.”
I set the tray down at the foot of the bed, and then fetched
their individual trays from the bedroom closet. I set Julie’s tray on her lap
and she immediately began digging into the country omelet and hash browns I’d
prepared for her. She held the fork in her right hand while using her left hand
to work the TV remote.
I cast a furtive glance into the bathroom, where Kevin was
still in the middle of a protracted morning piss. I drew a breath.
“Uh…um…happy anniversary, Mistress,” I said quietly, not
wanting Kevin to hear.
“Oh, yeah, you too,” she said absent-mindedly, her mouth
full of food as she surfed through the television channels. How romantic.
Kevin moseyed back into the bedroom and joined his girlfriend
on the bed. I was Johnny on the Spot, setting up his personal breakfast tray
and then serving him his farmer’s omelet.
“Where’s the ketchup for the hash browns, dumbass?” Kevin
said as I poured his coffee.
“Oh! I’m sorry, sir, I left it in the kitchen! I’m so sorry.
I’ll get it right away, sir. I am so
sorry!”
Kevin shook his head. “It’s so hard to get good help
nowadays,” he said dryly. Julie sniffed.
In a matter of seconds I was back in the bedroom with the
ketchup bottle. I was scared to death of pissing Kevin off, lest Julie change
her mind about letting me lick her vagina.
Luckily, after Kevin snatched the ketchup bottle from me he
forgot about my absent-minded mistake.
As always, I knelt on the carpet with my head bowed while my
masters enjoyed their breakfast. I was called upon twice for coffee refills,
but otherwise I was ignored as they watched television and talked about their upcoming
trip to the lake.
After they finished breakfast they roused out of bed and got
dressed while I washed their dirty dishes. They left the house at about 8:10,
after I packed everything for their outing into the Hummer. They’d wanted to
hit the road by 8, but Julie’s notoriously slow when she’s getting ready to go
somewhere, so their leaving ten minutes late wasn’t really bad at all.
When the dishes were finished, I drove to the hardware store
and rented a carpet cleaning machine. Including the carpet shampoo, it set me
back $75. A wave of resentment ran through me as I swiped my credit card, paying
for the privilege of shampooing Kevin’s carpet while he cavorted on the lake with
my precious Julie.
As usual, it took all day to clean Kevin’s place. It actually
took about an hour more than usual because I had to do the carpet. And, of
course, the place was a complete pig sty.
But the day flew by; all I could think about was Julie’s
promise to allow me to lick her vagina.
“Her vagina.” When I thought about my wife’s private parts, which
was often, I tried to use the word “vagina” in my mind, since she doesn’t like
me to refer to it any other way. Whenever the word “pussy” would inadvertently pass
through my brain, I felt pangs of guilt. How pathetic: I wasn’t even allowed to
think of my wife’s pussy as a pussy.
By 5:30 p.m., Kevin’s condo was spotless, and I was absolutely
exhausted. I returned the carpet cleaner to the store and then slogged home. I
wasn’t sure how long Julie and Kevin were going to be gone, but I was confident
they wouldn’t be returning for a while. So I figured I’d lie down on the couch
and take a little nap.
Unfortunately, that “little nap” turned into a four-hour
snore-fest. I might have been zonked out even longer if I hadn’t been awakened
by the front door opening.
“What are you doing asleep, Walter?” my wife asked in a bitchy
tone as she and her lover sauntered arm-in-arm into the house. “Get your fat
ass off the couch and unpack the Hummer. I can’t believe you haven’t started on
dinner yet.”
“Yeah, I’m fucking starving!” Kevin chimed in. “Here I’m
thinking I’m going to get to enjoy a nice, big dinner after a day on the lake,
and all the while, instead of cooking, he’s laying on his fat ass asleep.”
I wanted to cry. How was I supposed to know they wanted
dinner? Nobody told me. They’re so damned unfair sometimes. They expect me to
be a mind-reader, and no matter how hard I work for them, it never seems to be
enough.
I tried not to look at my masters as I slipped past them and
went to unpack the Hummer. I prayed my falling asleep wouldn’t cause Julie to
change her mind, but I had a bad feeling about it.
Once the car was unpacked, I rushed into the living room and
fell to my knees in front of the couch, where Julie and Kevin were reclining.
“I’m so sorry I fell asleep,” I pleaded. “But I can have
dinner whipped up in a jiffy, what would you like me to make for you?”
“I dunno,” Julie mused. “What do you think, honey?”
“Got any steaks?” Kevin asked his girlfriend.
“I don’t know, ask him,” she said; then she asked me, “Do we
have any steaks?”
“Yes, Mistress, we do. I can have them ready in no time,
Mistress.”
“Then get your fat ass in the kitchen, and get to cookin’,”
Kevin said, picking up the remote.
“Y-yes, sir!”
Dinner was uneventful; I spent it on my knees listening to
them talk about their boating trip. After the meal, I served drinks in the
living room. Julie was getting frisky. She was kneading Kevin’s crotch and
licking his earlobe when I set her drink down on the table in front of her.
“Being out in the sun always makes me horny,” she mewed.
“Let’s go upstairs.”
“Mmmm, baby, you don’t have to tell me twice,” Kevin said.
“Bring our drinks upstairs,” Julie called over her shoulder
at me as she walked hand-in-hand with Kevin across the living room. I retrieved
their glasses and followed respectfully behind them up the stairs and into the
master bedroom.
They plopped onto the bed and began removing each others’
clothes as I set their drinks on their respective nightstands. Then I slinked quietly
out of the bedroom, knowing they wouldn’t want to be bothered while they were
having sex. I’m not one of those cuckolds who gets to stay and watch, that’s
for sure! They don’t want me anywhere near them when they’re making love.
I sat downstairs watching TV and listening to the chorus of shrieks
and grunts. I was on pins and needles wondering if Julie was still going to
allow me to lick her. I knew if she was going to do it, it would have to be
right after Kevin fucked her, because I knew they’d had a long day and probably
wouldn’t stay awake for long after they made love. But I was so looking forward
to licking my wife’s vagina, the prospect of eating Kevin’s cum out of it
wasn’t as bad as it normally would have been.
Finally, after about an hour, I heard both of them scream
out their climaxes. A few minutes of silence followed. Then I heard Kevin
bellow, “Yo, we need towels in here!”
I literally ran up the stairs and retrieved two clean, white
hand towels from the hallway closet. I gently knocked on the bedroom door.
“Come in,” my wife called sleepily.
The scent of sex hit me in the face as I walked into their
sacred bedroom. The bedsheets were a tangled mess. Then my eyes rested on my
beautiful Julie; her head rested on Kevin’s chest, and her hair cascaded over
his torso like a silk blonde waterfall. His arm was draped over her shoulder
while he nuzzled his nose in the nape of her neck.
When they saw me, they each rolled over and accepted the
hand towels I presented. Kevin swiped his crotch a few times, and then threw
the towel in my general direction. It fluttered to the carpet, and I scurried
to pick it up.
I cradled Kevin’s cum-towel in my hands and watched sadly as
Julie wiped her lover’s sperm from her pussy. When she was done, she casually
handed me the stained towel and then turned toward Kevin and began lightly
kissing him.
Tears formed in my eyes. “(sniff) Is there anything else I
can do for you, Mistress or sir? (sniff)”
Julie noticed me crying. “What the hell are you sniveling
about?” she snapped.
“Um…well, it’s just that….well, Mistress, do you remember what
you said I could have for our anniversary?”
She giggled. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. I forgot.”
Kevin was puzzled. “What’s he talking about? What did you
say he could have for your anniversary?”
“Well, Walter really did a good job painting the living room,
and he’s been working so hard serving us, so I figured he’s earned a few
brownie points. I told him I’d let him lick me for a minute,” my wife said.
I held my breath while Kevin contemplated what Julie had
just told him. “I don’t know,” he mused. “Baby, you know I don’t want anyone
else to have you in any way – even if it is only the fatass’s tongue. That’s my
pussy, and I don’t want to share it with anyone.”
“I know, honey, of course it’s your pussy,” she said,
reaching down and stroking her vagina. “That’s why he never gets to lick me
anymore. But I thought he’s been working so hard, he should get a treat – but
if you don’t want him to, it really doesn’t matter to me one way or the other.”
I looked hopefully at Kevin, who regarded me with a twinkle
in his eye. It felt like I was standing there for two hours.
Finally, he said, “Y’know, Waldo, I think the little woman
is right – you have been working hard lately,” he said. “You do deserve a
treat.”
I fell to my knees. “Oh, sir, thank you, sir! Thank you so
much for allowing me to lick my mistress’s beautiful vagina.”
“Whoa now, hold up, Waldo, nobody said anything about you
licking her ‘beautiful vagina’!” Kevin leered. “I mean, after all, you did fuck
up dinner tonight. I was hungry as hell, and you made me wait.”
“Sir, I’m so sorry about that…”
“Zip it Waldo,” Kevin said. “It doesn’t matter anyway.
Nobody touches my woman’s pussy. But I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do.” He
pointed to the cum-stained towels I held in my hands.
“You can’t have Julie’s pussy, but I’ll let you have the
next-best thing: I give you permission to lick the towels clean,” he said.
Julie busted out laughing and playfully hit her boyfriend in the arm.
“Kevin, you are sooooo mean!” she squealed, obviously
delighted at how her boyfriend was humiliating me. “Poor Waldo.”
“Poor Waldo, my ass! I’m not being mean – after all, you did
use one of those towels to wipe your ‘precious princess Mistress vagina,’ so
it’s still got your taste on it,” he said. “And I used the other towel to wipe
off my dick, which still had your precious pussy juices all over it. So it’ll
be an honor for him to lick those towels clean. Won’t it, Waldo?”
“Yes, sir,” I said sadly. I lowered my head and brought the
towel Julie had used to wipe her vagina toward my face. I started to lick it but
she stopped me.
“Ewww, Walter, take those towels out of the bedroom and go
do that shit somewhere else,” she said. “I don’t want to watch you licking cum
off a goddamn towel, that’s nasty. Get out of here.”
Kevin chuckled as I crept out of their bedroom. “You’re
right honey, poor Waldo just can’t catch a break. Can ya, Waldo?”
“Um, I don’t know, sir,” I whispered. I didn’t know what
else to say -- and besides, those were the only words I was able to croak out.
By the end of that short sentence, I was openly bawling.
Julie and Kevin didn’t seem to notice; they were once again
focused on each other. I quietly closed the door and went downstairs to my
lonely room.
A tear fell onto the yellow-stained white towel as I slowly brought
it to my face…
“Julie” Part 4
by c.w. cobblestone
I was on my hands and knees
polishing the tile kitchen baseboards when I heard my wife’s bratty voice:
“Waaaaalllllter!”
I set down my rag, struggled wearily
to my feet, and made a beeline for the living room, where I found Julie relaxing
on the couch flipping through a fashion magazine.
“Um…you called, Mistress?”
“Yeah, whatever you’re doing,
stop. Diana and Roy are coming over to watch the Bears game, so plan on having dinner
ready by 3. You can barbecue up some burgers and whatever. But hurry up.”
“Yes, Mistress.” I politely
smiled and said, “Um, what would you like me to fix, Mistress?”
“I just told you, idiot, I
want hamburgers,” she snapped. “But you better go see what Kevin wants, too.”
With that, she turned her attention back to her magazine.
Shit! It was after 1:30 p.m. already
– how was I supposed to have everything ready by 3 o’clock?
It was an unfair request by
any reasonable standards, but that’s nothing new. Julie and Kevin just keep
piling more work on me. I can’t tell you how often I stay up until all hours of
the night taking care of some mundane little chore one of them has assigned me.
Julie came up with a new one
last week, after she saw a news story about the dust mites and bacteria people
breathe in from the heating vents in their homes and cars. She now wants me to take
Q-Tips and meticulously clean each slat in the vents, in both of their cars and
in all the vents in the house. And, she said, she wants it done twice a week.
I did it for the first time
on Wednesday and it took three hours to clean every vent. That put me way
behind on my housework, and I had to stay up late to get all the laundry washed
and ironed. But do you think Julie gave a shit? Hell no; Miss Princess slept
like a baby snuggled up to her man in her comfy bed while I was busy in the
cold, lonely basement laundry room (which doubles as my bedroom), diligently ironing
her boyfriend’s shirts at 3 in the morning.
Now, she wanted me to prepare
a barbecue on less than two hours’ notice. I was feeling pretty sorry for
myself as I trudged down to the basement to see what Kevin wanted me to make. I
prayed he wouldn’t say he wanted ribs for the barbecue, because they take so
long to prepare.
I descended the stairs and
entered Kevin’s “man cave,” where he lay sprawled out on the large L-shaped
couch watching the early football game, pitting the Colts against the Patriots.
As soon as he saw me, he
said, “Oh, good, Waldo, I was just gonna call you.” He wiggled his empty beer
bottle at me and I scurried to retrieve it.
“Um…sir?”
“Yeah, Waldo, what?”
“Um…Mistress Julie said she
wants hamburgers for the barbecue. What would you like me to fix for you, sir?”
Kevin thought about it for a
second.
“Hamburgers are fine, but throw some hot dogs
on, too.” Then he chuckled. “And I bet you’ll remember what Roy likes on his
hot dogs this time, won’t you, Waldo?”
“Y-yes, sir.” I blanched at
the memory: Last time they visited, Roy made me shove a hot dog up my ass
because I’d mistakenly put mustard on it instead of ketchup.
Roy is an out-and-out bully.
Come to think of it, so is Diana. I hate it when they come over. And Julie and
Kevin just egg them on; they enjoy showing off for their friends, flaunting the
fact that they have a wimp slave who will do anything he’s told. And Roy and
Diana keep pushing the envelope to see how far they can go. Usually when Roy
and Diana visit, there’s a lot of alcohol involved, which makes it even worse.
The drunker they get, the more they enjoy hurting me.
Kevin interrupted my bitter
trip down memory lane: “You can bring me that cold beer any day now, numb-nuts,”
he snarled.
“Yes, sir, right away, sir!”
I turned on my heel and scurried toward the staircase. As I was halfway up the
stairs, he called after me, “Hey, Waldo, why don’tcha throw some ribs on the
grill, too?”
I bit my lip. “Yes, sir,” I
answered in my most polite tone. I wanted to cuss instead. Damn it! Son of a
bitch! Fuck! I thought I’d gotten away with not having to make the ribs, which
are such a pain in the ass. I should’ve known better. Fuck.
I served Kevin’s cold beer,
then I darted around the kitchen in a near-panic. I still had to thaw out the
meat, marinate the ribs, prepare the veggies and dip, fire up the grill – how
was I supposed to have everything ready on time?
I had just started taking the
meat out of the freezer when I was interrupted by a call from my wife in that
edgy, spoiled whine she uses when summoning me: “Waalllllllterrrr!”
I hurried into the living
room. “Where’s the remote, Walter?” she asked crankily.
How the hell was I supposed
to know? I glanced quickly under the couch; on the table; no dice. It wasn’t on
the carpet. It wasn’t under the table.
Chafing at the interruption, I
continued scanning the room: It wasn’t on the arm of the couch; it wasn’t buried
in the cushion – and then, thankfully, I spied the remote, tucked under her leg
on the couch.
“Um….it’s by your leg,
Mistress.”
She looked down. “Oh.”
Without another word she grabbed it started flipping through the channels.
“Um, will there be anything
else, Mistress?”
“No, go,” she intoned.
I darted back into the kitchen.
Not two minutes later, Julie
called me again: “Wal-Ter! I need a refill!”
I stamped my foot in
frustration. But I put on a happy, submissive mask, fetched her drink, and then
got back to fixing lunch.
I was chopping up the veggies
when I was summoned yet again, this time by Kevin.
“Yo, Waaaaldo!” he bellowed.
I set down the knife and wiped away the tears that were forming in the corners
of my eyes.
When I got downstairs I saw
him reading a form for what looked to be a football pool.
“Get me a pen, Waldo,” he
said absent-mindedly, not taking his eyes from the form.
There was a pen sitting on the
goddamn coffee table right in front of him! I fumed as I retrieved it and
handed it over.
Kevin must have sensed my
mood, because he snatched the pen from my hand and glared at me.
“Is there some kind of
problem, fag?” he snarled.
“N-no, sir, there’s no
problem at all, sir,” I stammered, my mood melting into a wave of submissive fear.
“I didn’t think so,” he said.
I stood there for a minute.
He hadn’t dismissed me.
“Um, sir, did you need
anything else?”
“No, faggot, I don’t need
anything else. Beat it.”
“Yes, sir, thank you, sir.”
* * *
Diana and Roy arrived just
after 2, looking every bit like the attractive mid-20s “football couple” they
were. Diana had on a tight-fitting jogging suit that bore a Bears logo, with a
Bears ballcap; while Roy wore jeans and a Bears jersey. They were both rabid Chicago
fans and they had season’s tickets to Soldier Field. The game they were
planning to watch with Julie and Kevin, though, was in San Diego.
They all relaxed in the
living room as I bustled around serving everyone’s usual drinks: An Amaretto
Rose for my mistress, and a cold bottle of Samuel Adams for Kevin; for Diana,
it was a Bacardi Martini, while Roy is a Jack and Coke man.
“Well, hey there, fat-ass,
how’s it shakin’?” Roy asked as I handed him his drink.
“H-hello, sir.” I croaked. It
was obvious I was afraid of him, which amused him to no end.
“What’s for lunch?” Diana
asked as I served her Martini.
“Um, I’m making hamburgers,
hot dogs and ribs, ma’am,” I said politely.
Diana ignored me, and said to
Julie, “well, I hope lunch is going to be served soon, girlfriend, because I am
STARVING.”
Roy chimed in, “Me, too. Me
and Diana worked up a bit of an appetite this morning, if you know what I mean!”
Diana playfully hit her
boyfriend in the arm; Julie just rolled her eyes and said, “men!” while Kevin shared
a masculine chuckle with his buddy. Meanwhile, I stood there like an idiot –
which didn’t escape the attention of my wife.
“Is there a particular reason
you’re standing there like a fat slob listening in on our conversations?” she
berated. “Get out of here – I want lunch served in 15 minutes.”
Kevin chimed in, “Yeah,
Waldo, we’re hungry, so get the lead out of your fat ass! Hubba hubba.”
“I-I’m sorry,” I said,
turning on my heel and scurrying toward the patio with the echoes of laughter
burning in my ears.
It was cold on the patio, but
the grill helped keep me warm. I put the finishing touches on the burgers,
which I stacked onto a large platter. The ribs were piled high on another
platter, as were the hot dogs. The veggies were neatly cut, and arranged on a
veggie tray, accompanied by my famous sour cream and onion dip. I’d killed
myself, but I somehow managed to get lunch done on time. Not that I expected
any thanks for my back-breaking efforts.
I had to make several trips
into the living room to bring in all the platters of food. Because they were
watching the early game, which was in the fourth quarter, I made sure to drop
to my knees before I approached them; as I got closer to the table, I ducked my
head down so as not to block their view of the TV. I carefully placed each
platter on the table before shuffling backward on my knees, bent over
uncomfortably.
They didn’t even notice me;
they were too engrossed in the football game, which was a tight match between
the Colts and Pats.
As they ate and watched the
game, I knelt on the floor near the couch with my head bowed – my usual
mealtime position. After a few minutes, Kevin said, “Waldo, another beer!”
Roy drained his glass and
rattled the ice at me. “I’m ready for another one, too.”
I served the guys their
drinks, and as I turned to leave Roy said, “those ribs were good, but I’m still
hungry.” He scanned the three platters on the table in front of him, which each
were still piled high with food. “Fix me a hot dog, Waldo.”
Everyone in the room
remembered what had happened during their last visit, and they all shared a
chuckle. I took one of the hot dogs from the platter and set it onto his plate.
My hands shook as I stood off to the side of Roy’s chair like a butler,
carefully applying a line of ketchup to his hot dog.
“Ah, I see you remembered –
ketchup!” Roy sneered. He scooped up the frank and took a big bite. “That’s a good
boy,” he said with his mouth full, “now you won’t have to shove a hot dog up
your ass.” He washed down his bite with a swig of his drink. “Ain’t I nice?”
“Yes, sir, t-thank you, sir,”
I said, unable to look him in the eye as I resumed my kneeling position.
They ate and drank like kings
and queens, and they kept me hopping fetching refills. By the time the first
game was finishing up, they were all pretty hammered.
The game had come down to a
field goal attempt by the Patriots with only three seconds left in regulation
and the Pats trailing by a point. As the kicker prepared to make his attempt,
the opposing coach called time out.
“I’ll betcha he misses,” Roy
slurred to his buddy.
“What’choo wanna bet?” Kevin
shot back.
Roy thought about it for a
minute.
“If he misses, you have to
give us Waldo for a whole weekend so he can clean our house and garage,” Roy
said.
“Okay, what if he makes it?”
Kevin asked.
Diana drunkenly interrupted:
“If he makes it, then Waldo has to shove a rib bone up his ass!”
Everyone busted up laughing,
and when Kevin caught his breath, he roared, “Okay, you’re on!”
Julie shook her head in mock
disgust. “What is it with you guys, anyway?” she said to her friends. “You’ve
got a thing for making poor Waldo shove things up his butt!”
The game came back on, so her
light-hearted question never was answered. I was petrified as I watched the
kicker line up behind the ball. Although the prospect of being Roy and Diana’s
slave for an entire weekend was beyond distasteful, I prayed the kick would be no
good so I wouldn’t have to debase myself with a rib bone.
The teams got set. The center
hiked the ball. The holder spun the football into position. The kicker drew
back his right foot, and the ball shot upward..
TO BE CONTINUED
Will the kick be good, or
wide right? Duh, what do you think? : )
“Julie”
part 5
by
c.w. cobblestone
The
instant the kicker’s foot struck the pigskin, I knew the kick was wobbly. Like a
drunken butterfly, the ball fluttered weakly toward the yellow goal post,
hanging in the air for what seemed like a lifetime.
“Get
up, get up!” Kevin screamed. I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t look.
I
learned my fate a split-second later, when both Kevin and Roy simultaneously screamed,
“It hit the goal post! It hit the goal post!” I opened my eyes and looked at
the television just in time to see the ball bounce impotently onto the turf.
“Oh,
you son of a bitch!” Kevin yelled at Roy, who high-fived Diana. “You lucky
bastard!”
“It
wasn’t luck; I knew he was gonna choke,” Roy said smugly as he leaned back on
the couch, drained his drink with a flourish, and rattled the ice at me.
“I’m
ready for another one, Waldo,” he said. As I scurried to fetch him a new drink,
I heard him say, “Might as well get used to having Waldo as my slave now, since
I got him for the whole weekend.”
I
scuttled to the kitchen with mixed feelings swirling around my stomach. On the
one hand, I was thankful I wouldn’t have to shove a rib bone up my ass. How
embarrassing would that be? On the other hand, I knew I was in for a hell of a
weekend at my masters’ friends’ house.
“Waldo,
if I was you, I’d try to rest up this week,” Roy cautioned as I handed him his drink.
“Because your ass is ours next weekend – and between me and Mistress Diana, I
suspect you ain’t gonna be getting much sleep.”
Everyone’s
laughter drowned out my respectful reply of “yes, sir.”
Then
Kevin piped in, “And I better not get a bad report, either, cuz if I do, your
ass is freshly mowed grass.”
“Yes,
sir,” I again said, bowing my head.
Diana
sat forward in her seat. “Is it okay if we whip him while we’ve got him?”
My
wife smiled. “You can do whatever you want, girl, I don’t care. If he doesn’t
do what you tell him, go ahead and blister that ass. Just don’t do any
permanent damage.”
Diana
looked at me with an evil glint in her eye.
“You
hear that, Waldo? We’re gonna have us some fun next weekend, aren’t we, slave?”
“Y-yes,
Miss Diana,” I stammered.
Kevin
downed his beer and belched. “Another one,” he said, setting the empty onto the
table in front of him.
“I’m
ready for a refill too, Walter,” my wife said.
After
everyone had their drinks, I again knelt on the carpet near the couch with my
head bowed while they settled in for the Bears game. Other than calling me to
refill drinks, they ignored me until halftime.
By
then they were all pretty hammered, which had me worried, because they can get
pretty cruel when they’ve been drinking. Adding to my trepidation was the fact
that the Chargers were winning by two touchdowns; Roy, who lives and dies with
the Bears, was NOT in a good mood.
“That
ref PISSES ME OFF!!!” Roy fumed. “That was pass interference, plain as day, and
the fucking ref’s got his thumb up his ass! Bring me another Jack and Coke,
Waldo!”
Knowing
what kind of mood he was in, I moved extra fast. That turned out to be my downfall.
As
I rushed toward Roy with his cold drink, I stumbled on his tennis shoe, which
he’d kicked off some time during the game. Although I managed to hold onto the
glass, its contents spilled all over his shirt and lap.
Roy
jumped up and slapped the shit out of me. My head snapped back and a mass of
swirling colors and stars engulfed my senses.
“Stupid
fat bastard!” Roy bellowed, although I could barely hear him over the ringing
in my ears. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
“Yeah,
you disgusting piece of shit!” Kevin joined in. “How dare you embarrass me like
that!”
Tears
filled my eyes. “I-I’m sorry, sir,” I sniffed. That only got me bitch-slapped
again by Roy.
Through
my haze of pain, I heard Julie say, “Waldo, go get Roy some of Kevin’s sweats
to wear, and throw his clothes in the washing machine.”
When
I got back with a suitable outfit, Roy had stripped out of his wet clothes and
was only wearing his boxers. He snatched the sweats from me and put them on.
Kevin
looked at me grimly. “You know you fucked up, don’t you, Waldo?”
“Y-yes,
sir.”
“And
you know we’re going to have to punish that fat, lard ass of yours, don’t you,
Waldo?”
“Yes,
sir.”
Kevin
looked at his buddy. “Since you were the one who was the recipient of his
fuck-up, I think it’s only fair that you decide his punishment.”
Diana
jumped without hesitation: “Make him shove a rib bone up his ass!” she cried,
and everyone busted up laughing. Everyone, that is, except Roy and I.
“That
ain’t enough,” Roy said. “I’m thinking 50 lashes might be a better punishment.”
Diana
wouldn’t be swayed. “Okay, then,” she said, “50 lashes – plus a rib bone up his
ass!” More laughter.
“That
still ain’t enough,” Roy said. “But I’ve got an idea: Waldo, run out to my car
and get my gym bag out of the trunk.”
I
hastened to obey, my heart pounding as I wondered what the hell was in store
for me. As I took Roy’s gym bag out of his trunk, it dawned on me that fate had
just dealt me the worst possible outcome: I was going to have to spend all
weekend cleaning Roy and Diana’s house, and I still was going to have to shove
the rib bone up my ass anyway. Plus the 50 lashes – and whatever punishment was
hidden inside Roy’s gym bag.
It
didn’t take long to find out. I handed the bag to Roy, who fished around in it for
a second before producing a tube of Ben-Gay. My heart sank as I deduced what
was about to happen.
“You
need some lubricant before you shove that bone up your ass, Waldo,” Roy said,
brandishing the tube.
Everyone
laughed, and Kevin said, “Damn, Roy, you’re cold-blooded!”
“And
Waldo’s ass is about to be hot-blooded!” Diana retorted drunkenly, causing a
new round of humiliating laughter.
Kevin
pointed toward the kitchen with his thumb. “Well, get to it, Waldo – go into
the garbage and dig you out a rib bone. Make it a good one!”
I
hung my head and retreated to the kitchen. I sadly dug through the garbage
until I found a rib bone with very little meat on it. I quickly wiped it off
with a napkin and returned to the living room.
“Okay,
now drop your drawers,” Kevin ordered. “Underwear, too.
I
complied and when my tiny dick was exposed, Diana and Kevin cracked up.
“Oh,
that’s right, you guys have never had the pleasure of seeing Waldo’s little
pee-pee,” Julie giggled. “Well, there it is, in all its pathetic, two-inch
glory.”
Diana
shook her head. “Julie, it’s a wonder you didn’t become a lesbian after being
married to this pathetic excuse for a man,” she said.
“Nah,
I didn’t need to – I just went out and found me a real man,” Julie answered,
leaning over toward Kevin and kissing his bicep. “Waldo does make good money,
though, so we keep him around.”
Kevin
interjected, “Let’s get this over with; the second half is going to start soon.
Roy, hand me that Ben Gay. And Waldo, give me the bone.”
I
handed Kevin the bone, and he liberally applied the hot cream to the entire
thing. He gave it back to me.
“Okay,
Waldo, you know what to do.”
I
shut my eyes and gingerly reached behind me. The bone was cold as it touched my
butthole. Thanks to the Ben Gay, it slipped in easily. I panicked when the
entire bone slipped in – how the hell was I going to get that out? Within
seconds, I had a new problem: The burn began to set in. It was pure agony.
“Hold
out your hand, Waldo,” Roy said. When I did, he squirted another liberal dose
of Ben Gay into my palm.
“Okay,
now jack off for us.”
I
was already dancing from the pain in my ass, but I knew I had no choice. I felt
like my entire lower half was on fire, and tears filled my eyes as I lowered my
hand to my little penis and began stroking it. It felt like someone was holding
a match to the sensitive membranes.
Julie,
Kevin, Roy and Diana all died laughing when I suddenly stopped, fell to my
knees and began begging, “Oh, please, please, please, can I go wash this off?
It hurts so bad!” I knew I was running the risk of incurring my masters’
further wrath with my impromptu performance, but I couldn’t help it – the pain
was just too much to bear.
Of
course, that didn’t mean anything to them. Julie said casually, “No, Waldo, you’re
being punished. Deal with it.”
“Yeah,”
Kevin piped in. “Besides, Roy still gets to put 50 stripes on that fat ass. In
fact, go get the cane.”
“Wash
your hands first,” Julie called after me as I scurried to the basement to
retrieve my instrument of punishment. “I don’t want you touching everything and
getting Ben Gay everywhere.”
I
did as I was told and presented Roy with the dreaded cane the way I’d been
taught: On my knees, with the cane held respectfully in both hands. He took it
from me and swished it around a few times.
“Okay,
fat ass – get into position,” Kevin said. I obeyed, dropping to the carpet and
getting onto all fours, my nose to the ground and my ass in the air.
“Wow,
that rib bone must be all the way up his ass – I can’t even see it!” Diana
squealed.
“Figures,”
Julie observed dryly. “You could probably fit the dining room table up that fat
ass and still have room for a lamp.”
Everyone
laughed. Then, without warning, the first blow hit me.
Roy
wasn’t fucking around; he laid into me with all his might. Even though I know
how much Kevin hates to hear me cry when I’m getting whipped, I couldn’t help
it. After the 5th stroke I was openly sobbing and begging him to
stop. Between the Ben Gay and the cane, I was overcome by excruciating pain.
Kevin
cuffed me on the head. “Shut the fuck up, lard-ass!” he snarled.
“Here
– shove Roy’s dirty sock into his mouth,” Diana slurred, pointing to the sock
which lay on the carpet near the tennis shoe which had caused all this trouble
in the first place.
“You
do it,” Kevin answered. “I ain’t touching Roy’s nasty-ass sock!”
Roy
stopped whipping me long enough to laugh. “Here, give it to me,” he said. Diana
handed him the sock and he unceremoniously shoved it so far into my mouth I
gagged.
“Now
then, where were we?” Roy asked.
“NGggtgggtytooo,”
I mumbled into the sock.
“Twenty,”
Kevin said. He was way off – we were actually on 32 – but I was in no position
to argue. I squeezed my eyes shut and resigned myself to the fact that I now
had an extra 12 blows coming.
By
the time Roy was finished, I was a complete, blubbering mess. I could hardly maintain
my position, I was shaking so badly. I had cried so many tears, my face
literally hurt. And, of course, there was the heartless fire emanating from my
crotch and asshole, thanks to the Ben Gay.
The
second half of the game was about to start, so when my whipping was over I was
ordered to get dressed (“Nobody wants to look at that nasty white fish-flab”
was how my wife so delicately put it), and I again knelt on the carpet. And, again,
I was ignored, other than to fill drink orders. They chatted and watched their
game, oblivious to my silent misery.
Nobody
in the room was rooting harder for the Bears to win than I was, because I knew
if they lost there was a very good chance Roy might find another reason to
punish me. But, thankfully, the Bears mounted a comeback with 24 unanswered
points in the second half, winning the game 27-17.
The
outcome had put them in a good mood as they finished their drinks. By then
Roy’s clothes were dry, so he changed back into them, leaving the sweats
crumbled up on the living room floor for me to pick up.
Then
he and Diana got ready to leave.
“Are
you guys okay to drive?” Julie asked, concerned. “You’ve both had a lot to drink.”
“Well,
I am a little buzzed,” Roy said. “And no way Diana’s driving.” He was right;
she was completely lit.
“Hey,
why don’t we have Waldo drive you home?” Julie suggested.
“You
mean leave our car here?” Roy asked.
“No
– Waldo can drive your car,” Julie said.
“But
how’s Waldo gonna get back home?” Roy wanted to know.
“Who
gives a shit?” Julie retorted, and the room was filled with yet another burst
of humiliating laughter.
Roy
and Diana thought Julie’s suggestion was a capital idea. So after they said
their good-byes, I followed them to their car and opened the door for them. They
sat in the back seat as I got behind the wheel. I flinched as I sat down for
the first time since inserting the rib bone up my ass. I shifted uncomfortably
the entire 12-mile ride.
Diana
called from the back seat, “Hey, Waldo, thanks for being our designated
driver-slave.”
“You’re
welcome, Miss Diana.”
“How
are you gonna get home, Waldo?” she asked.
“Um….walk,
I guess,” I answered sadly. I didn’t have any money on me for bus fare, and for
a brief instant I thought about hitting Roy and Diana up for the fare. But I
thought better of it. Heaven help me if they called Julie and Kevin and told
them I’d begged them for money, even if it was just $1.25.
Finally,
I pulled up in front of their house. It was a big place; I was going to have my
work cut out for me cleaning it the following weekend.
I
struggled out of the car and opened the door for my passengers. As Roy exited
the car, I handed him the keys.
“Thanks,
Waldo,” he said. “See ya next weekend!”
“Thank
you, sir,” I mumbled and turned to go.
“Wait,”
Roy said. “Come here – I wanna give you something to remember me by.”
I
nervously approached him.
“Open
your mouth,” he said. When I did, he snorted deeply and hocked a loogie right
into my mouth. I gagged and listened to Diana giggle.
“There
you go,” Roy said, turning and walking arm-in-arm with his girlfriend toward
their house.
“And
don’t swallow it till you get home, either!” Diana added gleefully over her
shoulder. With that, they disappeared into their warm house.
I
stood there for a brief moment in total disbelief. Then reality hit me in the
form of an icy gust of wind. Sadly, I put up the collar of my jacket and began
the long trek home. I had 12 miles to walk, which would likely take several
hours, and it was a cold and blustery winter’s night. The wind cut my face as I
lowered my head and started limping home, the rib bone shifting in my ass with
each step. By then, the Ben Gay’s burning effects had subsided to a dull ache.
With
every fiber of my being I wanted to spit out Roy’s phlegm, but I couldn’t work
up the courage, so I scrunched up my face and kept it in my mouth. Tears filled
my eyes as I slowly, sadly limped away into the cold, dark night.
COMING
NEXT: WEEKEND OF HELL
“Julie”
part 6
by
c.w. cobblestone
An
icy blast of wind slashed my face like a horsewhip. I squeezed my eyes shut and
trudged forward into the teeth of the blizzard, my trek made even more difficult
by the rib bone that was still lodged in my rectum. But I limped as fast as I
could along the side of the road, knowing it was getting late, and that I still
had to get up for work in the morning.
I
was about two miles from home when I heard a large vehicle looming up behind me.
I turned to look – just in time for a truck to come barreling down on me,
splashing me with a cold tidal wave of muddy slush as it zoomed by.
I
let out a loud cry of anguish, and I stomped my foot in frustration. Tears poured
from my eyes. I stood there for a minute dripping like a wet dog, crying, shivering,
and feeling like the lowest form of life on earth.
I
felt like dying, but I sure didn’t want to die, and I knew I had to keep moving
if I didn’t want to freeze. So I shook off the excess water and continued my
sad, cold, lonely journey home.
By
the time I got to my street I was ready to drop, but the sight of my house
spurred me forward. As I staggered toward the house, I noticed that Kevin’s
truck was gone, and I uttered a silent prayer of thanks.
Quietly
as I could, I let myself in. I stood there in the foyer for several minutes
silently shivering. The warmth of the house only served to remind me how cold I
was. When my convulsions subsided somewhat, I shed my wet clothes, retrieved a
blanket from the hallway closet and wrapped myself up in it. My teeth still
chattering, I glanced at the clock: 3:23 a.m. Then I looked into the living room,
expecting the worst. And that’s exactly what I got – the room was absolutely
trashed.
With
a sigh, I toted my wet clothes down to my room in the basement and changed into
a pair of sweats. Then I went back upstairs and began cleaning up the mess my
masters had made during their football party. As late as it was, there was no
way I could turn on the noisy vacuum cleaner, so I had to use a whisk broom to
sweep up the potato chip crumbs and ashes from the carpet.
As
I limped through the living room carrying out my chores, the rib bone in my ass
shifted with each step, a reminder of the humiliation I’d suffered in that very
room just a few hours earlier. I was totally exhausted, and full of resentment
as I cleaned up their mess.
I
hadn’t done anything wrong. I’d killed myself to make a nice dinner for all of
them on short notice. I jumped every time one of them needed a refill. And my
reward? A bone up my ass. A long, lonely and cold walk home. And the privilege
of spending the next weekend as a slave to Julie and Kevin’s sadistic friends.
Then
I remembered that the reason I was in such a pickle was because I’d tripped and
spilled
It
took nearly an hour to clean the living room but I had my self-pity to keep me
company. By the time I finished the dishes, it was after 5 a.m., which left me
only three-and-a-half hours to sleep.
I
felt terrible the whole day. I’d gotten almost no sleep, and I still had a rib
bone lodged in my ass, which made sitting at my desk highly uncomfortable.
During a break, a coworker noticed me limping and asked what was wrong; I told
him I’d hurt my back climbing up a ladder.
About
noon, I started getting severe stomach cramps. I had to crap really bad, but I
was afraid to take the bone out of my ass without permission. So during lunch I
walked outside so I call my wife in privacy.
The
phone rang five times before she picked it up. “Hello?” Her voice was husky.
“Um…hello,
Mistress, it’s me,” I started.
“Fuck
off Walter, I’m busy with Kevin,” she said. “Call back in an hour.” Then she
hung up.
I
sat at my desk in agony for the next hour, bent over in half and holding my
stomach. My co-workers wanted to call an ambulance but I said it was okay. I
tried to occupy my mind by thinking of what Julie was doing at that moment: Her
legs were probably in the air, spread wide to allow her lover full access to
her beautiful vagina.
Finally,
an hour passed and I again went outside to call Julie. I breathed a sigh of
relief when she picked up the phone and said, “Yeah, Walter, what is it?”
“Um,
Mistress, I’m getting cramps really bad, and I have to use the bathroom,” I
said in my most pathetic voice. “Can I please have permission to take the…the
bone out?”
Julie
giggled. “Here, ask Kevin,” she said, handing her lover the phone.
“Ask
me what, loser?” his masculine voice crackled through the phone line.
“Um,
sir, er...I’m getting cramps pretty bad, and everyone at work wanted to call
the ambulance, but I have to use the bathroom really bad, sir, but I didn’t
want to take the bone out without your guys’ permission, sir.”
He
chuckled and asked Julie, “I dunno, babe. What do you think?”
“Oh,
let him,” she said. “Poor thing.”
My
heart soared on her gesture of kindness and understanding. Then Kevin shot me
back down.
“Your
wife says you can take the bone out, Waldo, so this is your lucky day,” he
said. “And when you get it out, I want you to suck it clean.”
“Kevin!”
my wife chided light-heartedly. “Don’t be so mean!”
“Aw,
fuck him, why are you taking his side?” Kevin joked. “I suppose next thing
you’re going to tell me you want his dick instead of mine!”
“Oh,
PU-LEASE!” she said in disgust. “The day that happens is the day you can just
shoot me.”
“Amen,”
Kevin said; then, to me, he quipped, “okay, Waldo, suck that rib-bone clean!” Then
he sang the jingle, “Finger Lickin’ Good!” and through the phone I heard them
both crack up.
I
said, “Yes, sir, thank you sir,” but he didn’t hear me as he hung up.
I
ran to the bathroom with tears in my eyes.
By
the time I got home from work at 6:30 that night, I was an exhausted mess. To
my dismay, Kevin’s car was in the driveway, which meant I would likely be kept
hopping.
I
was right. I had barely stepped through the door when Kevin called from the
living room, “Yo, I need another beer in here, Waldo!”
I
didn’t even take my coat off. My bleary, tired eyes welled with tears of
frustration when I saw how trashed the living room was. I’d just cleaned it
that morning and already there were two spilled drinks on the table with a huge
wet stain on the rug under the table; chip crumbs all over the carpet; empty
beer cans and glasses everywhere; the newspaper strewn throughout the room; and
Kevin, kicked back like a king on my couch watching SportsCenter.
As
I served his beer, Julie came out of the hallway bathroom and joined her
boyfriend on the couch. “I’m glad you’re home Walter, I need a good, long foot
massage,” was her greeting to me.
I
was thrilled at the prospect of touching my wife, but I tried to contain myself
as I knelt in front of the couch. Julie propped her feet up on the footrest and
melted into Kevin’s arms while they continued watching a movie on DVD; I
assumed Kevin had pushed ‘pause’ and put on SportsCenter while Julie used the
bathroom.
Julie
wore an aqua jogging suit, and the way she was sitting I could see her cameltoe
only inches from my face. I tried hard to concentrate on doing my wife’s feet,
but it was hard not to stare at her lewdly exposed crotch.
Julie’s
foot massage lasted about 45 minutes. “Now my turn,” Kevin said, propping his
feet on the footstool next to Julie’s and wiggling his sock-covered toes at me.
“Yes,
sir,” I said.
“Socks
off,” he intoned.
“Yes,
sir.”
I
was full of resentment as I worked lotion into his feet while he and Julie relaxed
high above me. I sneaked a peek: He was kicked back with my wife under his arm
and a smug little curl on his lips. Julie rested her head on his chest, her
eyes half-closed. I bowed my head and worked slavishly on her lover’s feet.
The
movie ended while I was still doing Kevin’s second foot. With the movie over,
Julie and Kevin started chatting, and the conversation eventually turned to my
impending weekend of servitude at Diana and
“You
better not embarrass me, you hear me, Walter?” Julie asked sternly. “You do
everything they say, you understand?”
“Yes,
Mistress.”
Kevin
piped in: “Oh, and since you’re gonna be over at their house this weekend, you
better come and clean my place one night this week, since you won’t be able to
get to it on Sunday. Do it Thursday.”
“Yes,
sir.” I gritted my teeth and continued rubbing the arrogant bastard’s feet
while he returned to his conversation with my wife. I seethed and tried not to
notice how casually his arm was draped around Julie’s shoulder; how his fingers
absentmindedly played with the soft, precious blonde locks behind her ear; how
her head was nuzzled so comfortably in the nape of his muscular arm; and the
look on her face, that look of lazy, sexual, feminine serenity; the look of a
woman who has everything – a jaguar in the garage, a mink in the closet, a
tiger in the bedroom – and a jackass like me to pay for it all, as the bumper
sticker says.
After
awhile, Julie started getting frisky with her “tiger in the bedroom,” nibbling
his ear and stroking his penis through his sweat pants. From my vantage point
at his feet, I could see his boner sticking up through the fabric.
“You
want to go upstairs and fool around?” Julie said seductively.
“What
do you think?” he said, pulling her head toward him and planting a hard, quick
kiss on her lips. Then he turned to me. “Okay, Waldo, you’re done, go get my
slippers.” I dashed upstairs and fetched his slippers from Julie’s closet. (Even
though he doesn’t technically live with us, he has his own robe, slippers and
toiletries here.)
I
knelt submissively before my wife’s lover and put the slippers on his feet.
Then Julie and Kevin stood up and walked away hand-in-hand, leaving me on my
knees. I knelt there for a few moments and then started cleaning up the living
room. I was so tired, I felt like I was going to drop.
The
rest of the week flew by. I spent Thursday night cleaning Kevin’s place.
Luckily he was at our house, so I could work without interruption.
Finally,
Friday came. I was on pins and needles all day at work, wondering what might be
in store for me. Sure, I already had it pretty bad – Julie and Kevin treat me
like shit – but for the most part they ignore me. I usually don’t get punished
unless I screw something up. Sometimes Kevin will do something just to fuck
with me, like making me lick the rib bone clean for no good reason. But he
doesn’t do it too often. Having me as a slave is old hat to Julie and Kevin, so
they usually just issue my orders and don’t give me another thought.
I
knew Diana and Roy would be different. They both had a major sadistric streak,
and it scared the shit out of me. I knew they were licking their chops, waiting
for my servitude to begin.
The
stipulation was that I would be Diana and
After
I packed, I reported to Julie for final instructions. She was relaxing on the
living room couch. Kevin wasn’t there.
“Listen,
Walter, I know this weekend is probably going to be hard for you,” she said.
“Diana can get pretty mean, can’t she?”
“Yes,
Mistress.”
“But
that’s okay, because you’re going to do whatever she or
“Um…yes,
Mistress, I promise I won’t embarrass you.”
“Good.
Well, you’d better get going. Have fun!”
“T-thank
you, Mistress.”
When
I pulled up in front of Diana and
Diana
answered the door with a smirk on her face. “Well, well, if it isn’t our
weekend slave,” she said. “I hope you’re ready to bust your fat ass – and I
hope you’re ready to get that fat ass busted, too!”
“Um…yes,
Miss Diana,” I said as I walked fearfully into their house behind her.
“
“Yes,
Miss Diana, thank you.”
I
dumped my bag on the concrete floor the cold, clammy garage and reported back
to Diana in the living room. “Okay, lard ass, you can start by doing the
dishes, and then get that kitchen spotless. I mean spotless: I want the fridge
cleaned inside and out; the same with the oven; and I want the baseboards
scrubbed and the floor waxed. Oh, and take everything out of the shelves, and
clean them, too.”
“Yes,
Miss Diana.” I have to admit: I was turned on by the way she sat in her easy
chair and barked orders at me in that bitchy tone of voice of hers.
I
retreated to the kitchen and recoiled in horror when I saw what a mess it was.
But cleaning up my superiors’ messes was something I’d grown accustomed to, so
I quickly got to work.
He
dropped a plastic bag onto the floor in front of me. It was a bag of weed.
“Stop what you’re doing, Waldo, and come clean this ounce,”
I
followed
While
I worked, Diana and Roy sat on the couch above me, their legs crossed as they
watched my fingers picking through the green buds.
“Okay,
fatass, you belong to us for the next two days,”
“Yes,
sir.”
“I
hope you got a lot of sleep this week, faggot” Diana added in her bitchy tone
of voice. “Because you ain’t gonna be sleeping much this weekend.”
“Yes,
ma’am.”
“And
looky what I’ve got for you, lard-ass,” Kevin said, producing a wicked-looking
bamboo rod. “We talked to your mistress and master and asked if it was okay if
we blistered your fat ass. They said as long we don’t permanently do damage, we
can do what we want. Doesn’t that sound fun, slave?”
“Yes,
sir,” I lied.
“All
righty then – do you have enough weed cleaned yet for a doobie?” he asked.
“Yes,
sir.”
“Then
roll us one,”
I
quickly rolled them a perfect joint and handed it to
Diana
was furious. “Already you’re fucking up!” she screamed. “Don’t you know how to
roll a fucking joint?”
“Y-yes,
Miss Diana.”
“Well
then why did a seed just pop right in my face, dumb shit?” she demanded.
I
had no answer.
“Hand
me that whip,
“You
know the routine, fat-ass: Drop your drawers, put your nose to the carpet, and
get that fat ass up high, to give me a good target,” she said. “You just earned
yourself 30 strokes.”
“Julie” part 7
by c.w. cobblestone
The first blow felt like a rapier
slashing through my ass. THWACK!!! THWACK!!! THWACK!!! By the third stroke I
was openly sobbing.
“Shut the fuck up, wimp!”
I don’t know how I made it
through 30 strokes, but I did. By the time Diana finished, I was in a state of
delirium; heaving and shivering, with tears streaming down my face.
My agony only served to amuse
my masters.
“Poor Waldo, you won’t be
sitting down for a week!”
“Umm…I don’t know, sir.”
Diana feigned anger. “What do
you mean, you don’t know?” she demanded. “You mean to tell me you don’t know
whether I’m a bitch or not?”
I scrambled my brains to come
up with an acceptable answer. “Um…no, Miss Diana, you’re not a bitch, but I
didn’t want to contradict Master Roy,” was the best I could do.
Diana looked at
My tears fell anew. “I-I’m
sorry, sir, I don’t mean any disrespect, sir. I’m here to serve you as best I
can, sir, and I’m sorry if I showed any disrespect, because that’s the last
thing I want to do, sir.”
“T-thank you, sir.”
“Now, put on your pants,
faggot,”
“Yes, sir.”
As I was struggling to pull
my pants up past my blistered ass cheeks, Diana said, “Okay, that’s enough fun
and games for now. You’ve got a house to clean, Waldo. How’s the kitchen
coming?”
“Well, ma’am, I got
everything done except the oven and the floor,” I explained. “I was going to
clean the oven and then wax the floor, since you have to let the oven stuff
work for two hours.”
“You haven’t waxed the floor
yet?” Diana asked. “I thought I saw you waxing it when I passed by to go to the
bathroom earlier.”
I swallowed hard. “Um, yes,
ma’am, I did wax it, but then Master Roy walked on it when he came home, so I
have to do it over again.”
Diana giggled. “Poor slave,”
she pouted. “
“You think that’s mean?” he
said. “I’ll show you mean.” Then, he turned to me. “Go into the bathroom and
get the plunger.”
Diana let out a laugh and my
heart sank; we both knew what
I offered the plunger to
I removed my pants, which was
just as painful as when I’d put them on a few minutes earlier. I bent over and
suddenly, with no warning whatsoever,
They shared a giggle, and
then Diana shot me an icy glare. “What the fuck are you doing still standing
around, fat-ass?” she snapped. “Get to cleaning!”
I waddled off into the
kitchen, the plunger moving lewdly side-to-side with each step. I had to clinch
up my butt muscles to avoid having the plunger fall out. It was going to be a
long night.
* * *
I was busy scrubbing the
baseboards in the hallway when I heard
Reflexively, I struggled to
my feet and made a bee-line toward the sound of my weekend master’s voice, the
plunger slowing my efforts considerably. “He sounded mad,” I thought anxiously as
I limped up the stairs. “What did I do wrong now?”
When I entered the bathroom I
saw
“Look at this,” he snarled,
presenting the wispy swatch of toilet paper. “What the fuck am I supposed to do
with this? An ant couldn’t wipe his ass with this.”
“Um…I’m sorry, sir, I haven’t
gotten a chance to clean any of the upstairs yet,” I said.
“That’s no excuse, asshole,”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Get another roll from under
the sink,”
I felt like crying as I fell
to my knees. It was a difficult maneuver with the plunger still sticking out of
me, but I pulled it off. I watched as
After a few second, he
brought the shit-covered toilet paper forth and began moving it toward me. I
was certain he was going to make me eat it, but I was wrong: Instead, he stuck
it to my forehead. The paper was so thick with his feces that it acted as an
adhesive and actually stuck, although a loose end unraveled and hung in my eyes.
Tears were rolling down my
cheeks as
“Open your mouth, dickweed,”
So I closed my eyes and
opened my mouth, and any vestiges of pride I had disappeared as
“Chew on that for awhile,
faggot,” he sneered as he stood up. “Maybe that’ll teach you to try to
anticipate our needs from now on. Now get back to work.”
“Mggusffssirr,” I gagged.
* * *
I was kept working all night both
Friday and Saturday nights. I was getting physically ill from the lack of
sleep, and from the caffeine pills Diana made me eat. She said she wanted me
alert, and she knew I hadn’t gotten any sleep. So every few hours she’d make me
take 5 caffeine pills, which after awhile caused a pounding headache. By the
end of my second day of slavery to Roy and Diana, I felt absolutely miserable.
Finally, Sunday morning came.
I’d spent all night cleaning the garage;
They woke up around noon and
I cooked them omelets, which I served in the living room.
“Okay, Waldo, what did you
get done last night?” Diana said between bites.
“Um, I got everything done on
your list, ma’am,” I said. “And I finished in the garage, too.”
“All my tools polished?”
“Yes, sir, they’re all just
like new.”
“That’s a good fag,” he said.
“Thank you, sir.”
Diana rubbed her chin. “Okay,
wow, I think everything is pretty much done. You finished a lot earlier than I
thought you would, Waldo, but I guess that’s because you haven’t slept,” she
giggled.
I was dead on my feet as I
stood before Diana and Roy, and with every fiber of my being I wanted to ask
for a break, since she’d just said all my work was done. But she quickly put
the kibosh on that idea.
“I know what you can do,” she
said. “Go upstairs to our bedroom and take all the clothes out of the closet. I
want everything ironed. Then do the same thing with the stuff that’s in our
drawers: Underwear, panties, socks. I want it all ironed. You got that?”
“Y-yes, ma’am,” I intoned.
Inside I was furious. She was just making stuff up for me to do now!
“You look tired, slave,”
Diana said. “Go to the bathroom and take 5 more of those caffeine pills.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
So I spent the final hours of
my weekend servitude slaving over an ironing board, carefully ironing out the
wrinkles in Diana’s negligees, and putting military creases into
At about 7:45 p.m., Julie and
Kevin came to pick me up. I’ve never been happier to see them in all my life!
I served drinks in the living
room as they discussed my performance.
“So, how did our slave do?”
Julie asked as she took her drink from me. “Did he serve you guys okay?”
“He did fine; he’s a good
slave,”
“The poor fat bastard looks
fried,” Kevin chuckled. “Did you guys let him sleep at all?”
“Not a wink,”
“Poor Waldo,” Kevin said.
“You mean to tell me you haven’t slept for two days?”
Tears filled my eyes. “N-no
sir, I haven’t, but Miss Diana and Master Roy had work they wanted done, sir,”
I said submissively.
“Well, too bad,” Kevin said.
“What, do you want someone to feel sorry for your disgusting fat ass? Guess
what, Waldo? You’re a slave. Life sucks when you’re a slave.”
“Yes, sir.”
“He should get a tee-shirt
printed that says, ‘Life sucks when you’re a slave,’” Diana said.
Julie giggled. “Poor Waldo is
going to think life sucks even more when he gets home and sees the condition
the house is in!”
Kevin guffawed and looked at
me with a taunting glint in his eye. “Yeah, Waldo, I know you’re tired and all,
but I wouldn’t count on getting much sleep tonight, either.” Again the room
filled with laughter.
I bowed my head and closed my
eyes. “Yes, sir,” I whispered sadly. Yet another tear rolled down my cheek.
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