“Hello?” The man's voice was slightly high-pitched, as though he were nervous.
“Is this the man who placed the ad in MM?” Roxanne asked, in as firm as voice as she could manage.
“Uh, yes, yes ma'am! May I ask your name, please, ma'am?”
“Not before you give me yours, worm.” Roxanne got the impression that some of them liked to be called worm. The gasp on the other side of the phone seemed to confirm that.
“Please, Mistress, if I am permitted a name, um, I'm Scott.”
Roxanne grilled the man for a few minutes, glancing at her notes and making more. Soon, she had his full name, his address, his birthday, and where he worked. When he asked her why, she told him to just answer questions and keep his own to himself. In reality, she now felt more comfortable having a strange man coming over to see her.
“If I allow you to come and perform domestic chores for me, what can I expect? Are you good at anything?” she asked, unsure of where to go from there. He seemed eager to answer.
“Oh, I'm a very good houseboy, Mistress, very clean. I can also cook, and do the laundry, and I would love to have the honor of giving you a foot massage, if you like, or I can give you a manicure…” His voice fairly bubbled, as though no one had ever asked him what he could do before. “And I can type, if you need a secretary, and I am very willing to learn new skills, Mistress. For your pleasure, I can take some pain, or you may abuse me in various ways, or you can humiliate me in front of your friends. I can serve tea…”
Ah! That was familiar, at least. Roxanne interrupted, and asked, “Do you have a maid's costume?”
“Oh, yes ma'am!”
“And are you available today?”
“Yes, Mistress! Oh, yes!”
Roxanne kept silent for a moment, then threw the last of her cautious fears to the wind. She gave him her address, and told him to be there by noon. With exuberant thanks, he promised to be there, and she put the phone down with a feeling of excited anticipation. She was really getting one! But in her nervousness and glee, she realized she had totally forgotten to ask him what he looked like. Hoping he wasn't a real dog, she went into her bedroom to pick out something to wear for the occasion.
* * * *
Her doorbell rang at exactly noon, and she drew herself up to meet her “experiment.” She threw open the door with a dramatic—and, she hoped, dominant—gesture, and prayed one last time that her maid-to-be wasn't a dog.
What stood on her front steps, if he had been a dog, would have been a cocker spaniel. From behind silver-rimmed glasses, large brown eyes looked up into hers, framed by masses of curly light brown hair. He was standing one step down from the top so he had to look up at her, and clutched in his arms was a knapsack. He was, Rox thought, as cute as a puppy. She smiled involuntarily, =then caught herself and tried to look stern again.
“Scott?” she asked.
“Yes, ma'am,” he replied, nodding.
She continued to look at him for a moment. He looked a little skinny, but anything could have been hidden under the down jacket and heavy wool scarf he wore. Then she stepped back, indicating he should follow her.
“Oh, thank you, ma'am,” he said, as he came through the door. “Thank you so much for letting me have this opportunity to please you and serve you. I promise you'll never find another houseboy as eager to serve as I am. I can't thank you enough…”
“Shut up!” Roxanne surprised herself with the force behind her order. But a flush of pleasure swept through her body when Scott immediately shut his mouth, and bowed his head. “Haven't you ever heard of speaking when you're spoken to?”
In her hallway, Scott had gained a few inches, and was now taller than she was. But his bowed head seemed to keep things a little more equal. She studied him for another second, then pointed at the coat rack. “Hang up your coat, and come into my living room. Let's see what you've got. I haven't got all day!”
To her glee, Scott almost ripped the coat and scarf off, then neatly hung them up. He hurriedly picked up his knapsack and stumbled into her living room to stand in what she thought seemed to be a very submissive way, in the center of the room. He had his hands behind his back, and his head was lowered again. She walked casually in, and stood in front of him for a second before sitting regally in her favorite chair.
“Okay, Scotty, look at me,” she said. He looked up. “I called you because, um, I'm in need of a domestic servant. I want you to take care of some chores that I…that my last servant…neglected. And for which I had to send him away.” She added to the tale with relish. “I like to see a man doing some meaningful work for a change. Don't you agree?”
“Oh, yes, ma'am!” He nodded, with that same puppy dog eagerness. She found herself wanting to grin again, and held it back.
“So…let's get some ground rules. My name is Roxanne, but you will call me…Mistress. You'll never speak unless I speak to you, and you'll obey me in every way, and expect nothing from me. Got it?”
“Yes, Mistress!”
“Well, then, get out of those clothes and let's see what you brought.” Roxanne sat back, and coached the young man as he undressed. “No, you idiot, slowly. Let me see you do it like a Chippendale's guy. That's it. Ease it up over your chest. Show off for me.”
Blushing, Scott slowly pulled his sweater over his head, exposing a flat stomach and a hairless chest. He still had some tan left, and all in all, Roxanne liked what she saw. She continued to encourage him as he unfastened his slacks and kicked off his shoes. Finally, he stood before her clad in a pair of black bikini underwear and his glasses, and Roxanne couldn't help but notice there was definitely some interest straining the seams of those bikini shorts.
“Well? What are you waiting for, Scotty?” She liked the sound of that nickname. It suited him. “Get into your uniform.”
He drew a tangle of black-and-white lace from the knapsack and sorted out the pieces. A teddy-like garment went around his torso and tied with a row of bows up the back, and a lacy collar went around his neck. Now as red as a summer tomato, he shook out what looked like a pair of crotchless panties and held them up for a moment, as though he was unsure about them.
“Real cute, Scotty. You should have put them on first,” Rox said with a giggle. “Get out of those boy shorts and put those on.”
He bent over to work the bikini shorts down his legs, and she saw his cock, stiff as the proverbial board, slap against his thigh. As soon as he was free of the bikinis, he slipped his legs into the panties and slid them up around his hips, hiding his manhood again, this time even less successfully. Three little red bows kept the split crotch partly closed. Then a little skirt with a white apron was tied around his waist.
He stood before her in the French maid costume, not nearly as pretty or authentic as the one in the movie, but damn close. His bare feet looked silly, though, and she pointed at them. He reached back into his pack and pulled out a pair of black pumps, and slipped into them.
“Much better.” Rox stood and walked around him, and then reached out to cup one ass cheek in her hand. He trembled at her touch and gave a slight moan, and she grinned. “Okay, Scotty, let's put you to work.”
Rox took the man on a tour of her house, showing him the rooms that had to be done and where the cleaning supplies were. Then she immediately put him to work. In no time at all, he had made her bed and gathered up her laundry, and took it down to the basement where her washer and dryer were. While she sat in the living room and tried to read the paper, he washed up what was in her sink, and started cleaning her kitchen counters and shelves.
She loved to see him walk through the halls, his butt poking out of that skimpy costume, the apron flapping against his crotch. He walked a little funny, probably because of the shoes, but she liked that too. When he came into the living room to dust, she made him bend over a lot, to get some imaginary dust that he had missed. Whenever he did, his cock and balls were clearly outlined against the sheer fabric of his panties, and the knowledg
e that she was looking at him apparently made him delightfully hot and bothered. By the time he was finished with the living room, she could see sweat gathering in the small of his back.
Before he went on to another room, he came to her and knelt at her feet. She didn't know what to do at first, but then remembered she had told him not to speak unless she spoke to him first.
I wish all men were like this, she said to herself.
“What is it, Scotty?”
“Please, Mistress, may I be permitted to make you some tea?”
“Sure…I mean, yes, slave, you may!” Roxanne stopped him from rising, on an inspiration. “But I want to see you crawl all the way to the kitchen. Go.”
He turned and obediently crawled out of the room and down the hall. Roxanne watched him leave and felt the stirrings of pleasure in her body. I don't believe it, she thought, sitting back in the chair. This is really getting me hot! I wonder what else I can make him do.
By the time he came back with the steaming tea, she had a few ideas. She sent him again, on his knees, to put the laundry in the dryer, and when he came back, she presented him with an old toothbrush.
“Time to do the bathroom floor,” she announced, her eyes glittering. He gulped, but crawled off to the bathroom, filled a shallow basin with hot water and detergent, and began to earnestly scrub the tiles with that little toothbrush. She watched him for a while, nearly doubled up on the floor, and coached him again.
“Not so light! I want you to get that clean, not wet! And don't miss the corners.” The more she scolded him, the harder he seemed to work, but there was a clumsier edge to what he did as well. Maybe I'd better leave him alone. He works better without me standing here, Rox thought. Then she laughed at what she was thinking. Of course he wants me here, she reminded herself. This is part of his fantasy. So let's get into this stuff.
“You work is pathetic,” she began, standing over him as he scrubbed. “You clearly need some incentive.” She took a quick gaze around the room and plucked a washcloth off her towel rack. She dipped it into his basin, wrung it out, and quickly coiled it into a snake. While he quivered on the tile floor, she snapped the wet towel across the back of his thighs, remembering the feel from Girl Scout camp. Apparently, it had the same effect on grown men. He yelped and cried out, “Forgive me, Mistress, I'll do better!”
“Well, don't just say so! Show me!” She snapped the towel at him again, and he yelped again, but bent back to his task.
By the time he was finally finished with the floor, there was still the tub, sink, and bowl to do. By the time she let him out of the bathroom, the backs of his legs were pink with red stripes up and down his thighs. The water had soaked through his thin panties, and they adhered to his skin in a way Roxanne thought was very erotic. She had not driven him to tears, certainly, but the look on his face when she finally let him crawl out was one of sheer gratitude.
She was startled when he dipped his head to the floor and thankfully kissed her feet, one after the other. Not knowing what to say, she began to walk back to her living room. “Go and get the laundry, Scotty. I'm not finished with you yet.”
She heard his “Yes, Mistress!” behind her, but didn't look back. When she sat down in her favorite chair again, she had a few things to think about.
What am I going to do with him now? she wondered. I don't want to let him fuck me. He's too cute to send away and never see again. He's real hot in that getup…I wonder if he dances. She imagined him in a harem costume, wiggling his little butt around the living room to sexy music, and the image was so hot, she almost groaned out loud. And she could just imagine having some of the girls over for lunch one Saturday and having him wait on them. They'd laugh, but he'd get harder every time they laughed, and that would be really cute to watch.
God, you can be nasty, Rox chided herself with a giggle. But who's getting hurt? He loves it, and it turns me on! But that reminded her of her predicament. Now she was all turned on with no one to fuck, to coin a phrase. She thought about her options for a while, then realized Scott was gone longer than he should have been. She almost called out loud for him, but clanged her mind and as quietly as possible, tiptoed down the stairs.
Scott was standing by her dryer, a basket of clothing at his feet. But he was holding one pair of her newly clean and dried panties up to his face and rubbing them against his mouth and cheeks. She stood on the stairs, surprised, for a moment, then got angry. Then as quickly as the anger came, it was replaced by an almost nasty delight.
“Is that the way you do laundry?” she purred, leaning over the banister.
He was so shocked, he dropped the panties before he turned to face her. The look of surprise on his face would have been totally comical if there hadn't been an edge of fear in it as well. But that fear made Roxanne's mouth go dry in excitement, and she licked her lips thoughtfully.
“I'm sorry, Mistress, I'm sorry! I didn't…I wasn't…” He moaned and dropped to his knees, picking up the panties and putting them carefully in the basket. “I was just coming upstairs, really, and I…I…”
“You got distracted.” Roxanne walked down the rest of the staircase and stood in front of him. “Well, I don't remember telling you that you could do anything like that. Did I?”
“No, Mistress, you didn't, and I was wrong. Please, I admit I was wrong! Please don't punish me very much, Mistress, even though I deserve it, I do…”
“You talk too much.” Roxanne retrieved the panties from the basket. She looked around, found the measuring cup for her liquid detergent, and wiped it dry with the panties. Then she balled them up into a silky little ball, now wet with soap, and stuffed them into his mouth. He took the stuffing submissively, and made a choking sound as he tasted the soap. “That's for using your mouth in a way I don't appreciate,” Rox said, looking around again. She found the canvas bag of clothespins she'd brought down here when summer was over and spilled a few of them out on top of the washer.
He made a sound behind his makeshift gag, and she knew she had made another good guess. She tugged the top part of his costume down and placed a clothespin on each of his nipples, and he squirmed. Then she dragged him to a standing position and pointed at his crotch.
“Get it out, Scotty,” she said sternly. He made his trembling fingers untie the little ribbons, and his cock almost sprang out from between the lacy edges of the slit. She examined it for a moment, then carefully attached three more clothespins to the loose flesh behind his cockhead, hearing little squeaks of pain at each one.
“Now, let's get upstairs,” Roxanne said, looking around one more time. “You've got to fold and put away the rest of this laundry before those pins come off. And just to remind you to keep working and not to get distracted…” She found a paint stirrer on her utility shelf that would do. “We'll use this.” She swatted it against her hand, then aimed it at his thighs. “Get going, slave!”
He lifted the basket and mounted the stairs, and made a thousand little cries as she kept up a constant barrage of swats and stinging slaps with the paint stirrer all along his legs and his ass. He folded the laundry and put it away under her direction and under the continuing series of spanks and whacks that made the pink color on his legs turn red. She occasionally, gently, hit exposed and pinned cock from time to time, whenever she felt he needed some encouragement to be faster.
With every swing and connection, her own heat increased. Maybe it was the power, maybe it was the feeling that she was totally in control, but whatever it was, she was wet and ready to come. By the time he was finished and she decided to take the clothespins off, she finally realized how she was going to take care of that personal itch.
She sent him into the living room and told him to wait for her, lying on his back in the middle of the floor. Then she went into her bedroom dresser and took out a favorite toy. And then, she changed some of her clothing.
He was lying on the carpet as she directed, the clothespins sticking up off his body. She took them off quickly a
nd watched him as he shook and jerked on the floor. He reacted to the ones on his cock like they were punches to his belly, his knees coming up and his face twisting in pain. As the blood rushed back to his nipples, they colored a deep red, almost as red as his ass. She watched him for a moment and said, “I guess you're not going to be playing with my laundry anymore.” Then she pulled his gag out.
He coughed and licked his lips and sputtered, “No, Mistress, I promise, never again! Thank you for correcting me…”
“You know, you still talk too much.” With a triumphal gesture, she showed him what she brought with her. It was a plain cock-shaped vibrator, with the speed attachment at the base. His eyes went wide as she displayed it to him, because although it was cock-shaped, it was a size not normally found on mortal men. She realized he thought she was going to fuck him with it.
“Oh no, Scotty, this isn't for you.” She chuckled, and turned it over in her hands. “It's for me. You get to hold it.” She pointed the head toward his mouth. “Lick it for me, Scotty. Get it nice and wet.” She pulled his glasses off and put them aside. His eyes were wide with astonishment and pleasure.
He extended his tongue and lapped at the pleasure dong, wetting the thing from tip to base until Rox had enough of watching him. “Put your hands under your back,” she ordered, and when he did, she turned the vibrator on.
“It gets faster when you turn this dial down here, Scotty. So when I want it faster, you'd better think of a way to make it go faster, okay?” She demonstrated the dial with her fingers.
“But, Mistress, how…if my hands are behind my back, how can I…”
Quickly and smoothly, Rox upended the vibrator and stuck the base into Scott's open mouth. He quickly closed his lips around it as she lifted her skirt to show that she had already taken her panties off. His eyes were wide as saucers as she settled carefully down over the vibrating dong, over his face.
The vibrations made his teeth and mouth ache, but her thighs on either side of his head and the scent and feel of her moisture drove him happily insane. As her favorite vibrator stretched and filled her, Roxanne was in heaven. She had mounted Scott facing his body, and she could see the erotic little dance his cock was performing, partly because of his arousal and partly because of the delicious squirming he was doing, keeping his hands behind his back and trying not to thrust with his hips. She moved carefully up and down, finding out how strongly he was holding the toy, then called out, “Faster, slave!”
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