Still, I can’t help smiling to myself as I stand at her sink with my hands in the warm water and look out to her garden. God help me; it does feel so good, so right to be used like this by the woman I worship. It’s hard to admit, but I can think of nothing I’d rather be doing.
“When you’ve finished those, emptied the dishwasher and bin; the floor will need cleaning.” she says and it takes a few seconds to realize she isn’t still talking into her phone.
I dry my hands and when I face her she has her arms folded over her chest, her head raised and bare shoulders back.
“I want you to vacuum and dust right through downstairs this afternoon. That will leave plenty of time for Lynne to clean upstairs for me tomorrow daytime. You can then help set everything else up for the party.” She lifts her chin.
“You have talked to Lynne to make sure she’s coming tomorrow night haven’t you Stuart?”
I nod my head and try not to look like I’m lying.
“I’m really looking forward to it. I’m so happy I’m not even going to insist you use your toothbrush to clean my flooring now.”
I smile at her joke but my stomach is clenching at the prospect of other people, some I’ve never even met, potentially witnessing my submission and humiliation.
“What will you want me to do tomorrow night Becky?” my voice sounds reedy and I curse my self confidence for being crushed again by her beauty.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business Stuart – do you?” Becky frowns at me, her eyes holding mine in place. “Get on with your housework and when you finish come and find me in the gym.”
She turns abruptly causing her pony-tail to whip around the side of her head. As she leaves the room I’m able to catch the briefest glimpse of her wonderful ass, her buttocks so firm-looking in those skin-tight white pants. I feel my chest tighten and I vow to work as quickly as I possible so that I can join her in the gym.
As I walk back and forth across the kitchen floor mopping her tiles I can feel the dull thumping beat of the dance music coming from the adjacent room where Becky works-out. What exactly is Becky going to expect me to do tomorrow night? How will Lynne react in front of these other people? Does Lynne even intend to come?
Its late afternoon by the time I’m finishing up cleaning the last room downstairs – Becky’s living room. I wasn’t sure whether she expected her windows to be washed on the inside so I’ve just left them. The whole house (downstairs at least), looks spotless and I’m exhausted.
Inside her workout room the music has stopped and I knock at the door. I’m called in. Becky is sitting on the mats facing the huge wall to ceiling mirrors with a knee tucked under her chin stretching her other long leg out in front of her. The room is warm and smells of her stale perfume.
“I’ll be with you in a moment, “she says looking at me in the mirror. I suck in my stomach and try to stand completely upright. Hopefully this might enhance the look of what small improvements my own exercise programme has been making.
I stand awkwardly as she stretches her other leg and then gets to her feet. She faces me, her gold ring bracelets clinking against each other as she places her hands on the indentation of her hips.
“Would you like to get on the scales for me Stuart?” she points across the room to the digital ‘step-on’ measuring device. “Let’s see how well you’ve been keeping to your diet.” She follows me across the room and peers down at the reading.
“Hmm, not too bad, you’re maintaining the target weight I set. I want you in the best possible condition in front of everyone tomorrow. You want to do me proud don’t you Stuart?” she raises her eyebrows at me.
“Yes Becky, of course”
“I want you to have a good workout session in a few minutes then again tomorrow when you’re both around here. It might also be an idea if you skipped your evening meal tonight and tomorrow.”
I nod slowly but my heart sinks at the prospect.
“30 minutes on the bike then some weights while I shower” she smiles.
Not lifting more weights. I hate it.
“Fetch the bench first” an elegant arm shoots out and points across the room to the bench press Dominic has had me working on regularly since we returned from holiday.
I try not to look too disheartened as I drag the heavy blue-topped bench across to her. A smile spreads across her face and her eyes begin to gleam. She moves closer to me.
“Don’t sulk Stuart, I’m not asking you to do anything I haven’t already done myself.” Her breath washes over my face. Slowly, silently but as deeply as I can; I inhale her.
“You do know I appreciate the sacrifices you make for me don’t you Stuart?” her voice is soft, almost warm over my nose and mouth. I can feel my face burn. I never thought I’d hear her say anything like this.
“But I’m so hot and sticky Stuart,” she whispers, the corners of her mouth curling upwards, “I almost don’t know what to do about it. I think I should have worn more deodorant.” She takes a seat on the bench and crosses her legs. I stand before her, hands covering my chastity belt. She raises an arm so that one of her hands is level with her face.
“What do you think Stuart? Am I very hot and sticky? Should I have worn more deodorant?” Becky lifts her arm right up so that her hand is way above her head and the underside of her arm is fully exposed.
She smiles at me before her aristocratic upturned nose nods towards her shaven armpit.
“Oh for goodness sake Stuart, must you act so stupid all the time? Kneel down here on the floor and smell under my arm for me.”
Insanely my balls have tightened and my cock pulsates as I lower myself to the floor in front of her. I move my head towards the heat of Becky’s body. My cock throbs between my legs. She smells only of deodorant but I guess she’s trying to make a point.
She pushes her shoulder and elbow downwards. Her damp armpit makes contact with my upturned face. I try, but fail to stifle a groan and she laughs.
“Lie on your back on the bench” she says suddenly rising to her feet. I guess she's going to watch me with the weights for a few minutes.
When my bare back is on the warmth left by her backside she looks down at me.
“Tomorrow night is a very important event Stuart. A chance for you to show people how devoted you are to me. For me to show how much devotion I can command from a slave.”
“Yes Becky,” my breathing is heavy
“Are you prepared to do that for me Stuart, to show other people you’re devoted to pleasing me?”
“What will I have to do Becky?”
“Wrong answer Stuart.” She’s standing close to my waist and she fixes her hands on her hips and turns away from me. I have to force myself not to raise my head to better gaze at the roundness of her ass.
“Are you prepared to do whatever I say to show other people how much you want to please me?” With her back to me, she lifts her left leg across the bench and places her foot down on the floor on the other side so she’s standing astride me. The insides of her lycra-clad thighs brush against my bare waist. I want to scream with frustration.
“Yes Becky, yes”
“You told me once you’d do anything I asked you too Stuart..” Her voice is soft and as she speaks she slowly moves backwards along the sides of my chest.
She’s so close now that I can make out what she has on underneath her leggings. The thin line of a white g-string disappearing between what I know to be divinely, silky soft buttocks.
She moves backwards again and for the first time I notice that what I thought was part of the white seam down the back of her leggings is actually part of the shape of a heart. This subtlety elaborate design frames her rounded buttocks and the backs of her shapely thighs.
I try to curb the sound of my breathing as my eyes crawl all over her rear. She moves backwards a little more. Oh God, where is she going?
She’s level with the top of my chest.
She lowers her shoulders and hips. Her backs
ide juts out, expanding as it descends. Her weight on my ribs. I gasp. Becky’s weight on my ribs.
“Would you still do absolutely anything for me Stuart?”
“Yes Becky, yes, yes you know I would. Anything you want”
Slowly, seductively, she inches her ass backwards up my chest. I genuinely think I may pass out.
“I’m afraid I may be hot and sticky all over Stuart. I really do need a shower.” Her fleshy cheeks reach the base of my throat. I can’t stop myself raising my head towards her. Her hand drops behind her and she pushes at my forehead, forcing me back onto the bench. I’m thankful for the foam upholstering.
“What do you think Stuart, am I very hot and sticky all over?” She doesn’t wait for my answer. She stiffens her hips and falls back landing heavily over my face.
Musky heat. Smothering me. I can hardly think. She rubs herself around, over and into my nose and mouth. Uncomfortably distorting and contorting the shape of my face. I make no effort to struggle for breath. I lie limply accepting her weight. Inhaling her scent. Grateful for being her cushion.
Before I know what’s happened she’s up and off me. I’m gasping for more.
“Bike,” she points at the cycling machine, her face red, “30 minutes then your usual weights. I’m trusting you while I shower. Don’t let me down.”
Chapter Five
On the night of the party Lynne and I are at Becky’s before anyone else is due to arrive. It’s been snowing again as forecasted and while Lynne is upstairs applying a French manicure to the nails of her friend’s fingers and toes - I’m clearing the driveway.
Becky insisted I hire a white dinner jacket and I feel ridiculous dressed like this out here in the cold. I’m also worried what state my patent leather shoes are going to be in by the time I’ve finished.
I stop scraping the last of the snow and lean against the shovel, blowing on my hands trying to warm myself. My shoulders are shaking. Becky wouldn’t let me wear my coat while I was clearing the drive, she said she wanted me to ‘create a good first impression” if anyone else arrived while I was still out here. Through the window into the living room Dominic is fussing with the light settings.
Car headlights swing into the drive just as I’m checking my watch. The interior light is on in the car. I recognize Julia from the villa. She’s adjusting her hair in a mirror as the Jaguar pulls up.
Becky’s words ring in my ears.
“I don’t want anyone having to get out of the car themselves. You make sure you open the door for them.”
I let the spade fall and reach the car door before Julia can step out.
“Hello Julia” I realize I’m almost bowing. What an idiot.
“This is the one I was telling you about Raymond” Julia is dressed in a heavily sequinned silver dress under her coat. When her partner gets out his side, he’s a short stocky guy with a large belly who looks as if he’s the wrong side of 40.
“Becky’s slave boy!” ‘Raymond’ grins at me and extends his hand. Embarrassed, I shake his rough palm.
“I notice you didn’t open my door for me lad,” he says and I’m about to explain that I didn’t have time because he got out too fast; when I see he’s laughing. Julia ushers him away and up to the house.
Dominic greets them at the door just as I become aware of footsteps approaching. The young couple stop half way up the drive at the sight of me.
“Oh, I thought we had the wrong house for a moment” says a tall, swarthy-looking male in a long overcoat and scarf as he peers beyond me to the door of the house. He sticks out a gloved hand and grips mine with what feels like unnecessary firmness. Overly white teeth flash at me as I take in his slicked-back dark hair and what I decide are ‘characterless’ good looks.
“I’m Evan and this is my wife Cara.” His partner, a slender red-head with high cheek bones smiles shyly as she passes me.
With the drive and pathways pretty much cleared and the snow now stopped I’m very aware of the next stage in my ‘duties’ for the evening.
“You will make sure no-one wants for a drink. You must continually ensure everyone has a drink in their hand.” Becky instructed me earlier.
The path around the side of the house is lined with snow which I’ve pushed back and piled up onto the grass. I hurry around towards the back door of the house.
The door is open and I decide not to bother knocking as I doubt anyone will be in the kitchen to hear me. I’m wrong. Dominic is pouring Champagne into a row of glasses on the granite worktop. Around him are the plates and bowls of snacks and finger-food that Lynne prepared earlier.
“Shall I get those drinks Dominic?” I say, hoping my embarrassment doesn’t look as obvious as it feels. Before he can answer Becky appears with Ray and Evan. She looks sensational. Her incredible breasts pushed up and presented half-revealed by the plunging neckline of the new dress I bought for her. Her raven-black hair and make-up finished to perfection by my wife. She’s smiling but it quickly evaporates when she surveys the scene in front of her.
“Why is my husband having to do this?” She glares at me. Next to her Evan shifts awkwardly and looks away from me while Ray grins.
“What did I say to you before our guests arrived?” Becky takes a step towards me, her chin raised. “Well?”
“I know, I’m sorry Becky I was just finishing clearing the drive for you.” I think I may be about to get slapped in front of these men.
“Give my gentlemen guests a drink then bring the bottle and other glasses through to the living room for the ladies. Do you think you can manage that?” her eyes narrow and behind her Ray snickers. I catch Evan furtively sneaking a look up the back of Becky’s dress and her olive-skinned legs so recently exfoliated by my own wife’s hands.
Dominic takes one of the filled champagne flutes for himself and hands me the bottle. I’m silently talking to myself trying to steady my shaking hands in front of everyone. Being spoken to like that by Becky was bad enough, but somehow to then be seen with shaking hands would be even more shaming.
Evan looks down at me and thanks me with obvious embarrassment as he takes his glass. Ray’s ruddy face is still beaming as I extend my hand to him.
“Little bit shaky there slave boy aren’t we?” he says loudly as he looks at my hand. “I don’t blame you though Lad, Rebecca does things to me as well.”
“Oh you wish Raymond.” Becky raises her eyebrows and everyone except me laughs.
Once they’ve left me alone I open another bottle of Moet and fill three more glasses. I take them into the living room on the silver tray I’m more used to holding for Becky while she lounges on her sofa.
She’s standing in the warmly-lit room surrounded by the other women including my wife in her new very short red lace dress. I think Lynne was right – it does make her look a little ‘slutty’. Ray and Evan are laughing at something Dominic is telling them.
“Would anybody care for a drink?” I ask quietly when Becky stops talking for a moment. Three heads turn to me. With her coat removed and in a stronger light Cara’s beauty is very apparent. Mahogany brown eyes emphasised by eyeliner and framed by her long dark red hair and plump sangria-red lips. Next to her Lynne smiles at me encouragingly.
I half expect Becky to try to belittle me again in front of the others but instead they all take their drinks and continue their own conversations.
As per my guidelines for the evening I return to the kitchen, fill six more champagne flutes and am soon standing silently in a corner of the living room holding the tray in front of me.
How did it ever come to this? Standing alone with my thoughts while my wife and three other couples enjoy an evening with me serving them.
I move my eyes continually around each person’s glass, trying to gauge when to make my move and cross the room to them with a freshener. Backwards and forwards, to and from the guests I go. Into the kitchen for another bottle plate or bowl of nibbles and back with increasing regularity. Voices and laughter becoming ev
er louder and less inhibited as the night passes. Mercifully my own self-consciousness gradually dissolves away the longer I’m ignored.
Standing against the living room wall having rinsed and refilled the back-up glasses yet again, I’m stealthily thieving a look at Becky’s ankles and feet in her new shoes. I become aware of a rhythmic clicking sound. I slowly look up the length of her body until my eyes are met by hers. She looks quizzically at me. One of her arms is raised and she’s snapping her fingers. A surge of heat fires off through my cheeks as I make my way over to her. The other women fall silent as I reach them.
“Yes Becky?” I attempt to grasp some dignity by making my voice sound firm as I speak. Given the circumstances it’s completely ludicrous of course. Becky raises an eyebrow and I feel myself wilting under her questioning blue eyes.
“Have you had anything to eat Stuart?”
All eyes are on me. I shake my head.
Becky hands me her plate with some scraps of meat and a small bone from a half-eaten chicken wing.
“You can have my leftovers” she smirks.
“It’s OK Becky, I’m not really hungry.”
“Are you arguing with me Stuart?” her voice rises ever so slightly but enough to make even the men fall silent. Evan has turned his body towards us, his pupils dilated. Becky pulls herself up to her full height, her beautifully-shaped nostrils flaring. Elegantly polished fingernails gingerly pick up a small strip of what looks like half-chewed chicken skin.
“Head back,” she says lifting the meat into the air.
I can’t look at my wife; I can’t look at anyone or anywhere. I close my eyes and move my chin slowly up, keeping the tray as steady as I can in front of me. I open my mouth and gag as the slimy shred of food hits the back of my tongue.
“Oh for heaven’s sake Stuart, have you no manners? Lynne; take his tray.” She barks at my wife. I open my eyes as Lynne, her face blushing, gently removes the tray from my hands. The instant the tray has gone Becky lunges at me. Her stiffened palm wickedly cracks across my face. Someone gasps. My shoulders tighten with the pain and I cover my face with my own hand, rubbing my cheek. Ray sniggers.
Led By Her 7: A Dominant Female, Submissive Male, Public Humiliation & Cuckolding Tale Page 3