Houseboy for Hire Pt. 02

She was never gentle with her scrubbing, in large part to keep his excitement from growing too much during these brief periods of freedom. When this was not completely successful, a firm, uncomfortable squeeze and twist in the right place served to help keep him soft and pliant. All too quickly, and always far too soon for him, he was being dried off and re encased in his cage. The key was then carefully put back in the drawer in a position only she could see, and he was sent on his way for the day.

But the tension continued to grow, and one Wednesday, almost six weeks after his captivity had begun, just as she finished roughly drying him and was preparing to re imprison him, he could stand it no more and fell to his knees before her.

"Ma'am, please ..." he pleaded.

Taken a bit aback, she stared down at him long and hard for an uncomfortably prolonged time. Finally her face softened and she sighed.

"I guess men do have their needs, if only for the maintenance of their health."

She paused a moment more, then,

"You may touch yourself, Rory."

With a soft moan of gratitude he brought up a shaky hand and lightly encircled his already stiff and standing manhood. Oh, after so long it felt so good. If only ...

"You may stroke it." she continued.

Oh God yes. He began to slowly run his fingers, feather softly, up and down his shaft. He so wanted to savor this but soon, almost of their own volition, his fingers tightened and the pace quickened, as did his breathing. Before long he was pumping and groaning furiously, and he knew that he was so close. But just as instinctively he knew ...

"Please Ma'am, please ... may I ... please." he panted plaintively.

She remained silent for several moments as he strove mightily to hold back. Finally ...

"Yes, you may spew. But don't you dare make a mess. Catch every bit of it. If even a drop falls on my rug there'll be hell to pay"

Permission gloriously granted he brought his other hand up in front of him, and with a few more vigorous strokes ...

He erupted. Great gouts of jism spurted forth in wave after wave into his waiting hand, accompanied by his helpless guttural grunting. It went on and on, for how long he could never guess as he continued to pump and squeeze until the waves became driblets and then last drops, none spilling from his hand. He slumped back onto his heels.

Rory had masturbated innumerable times in his life, and had had intercourse with more than a few women, but never had the experience been so intense ... so draining ... as what had just occurred. All beneath her discerning gaze. Totally spent and in a daze, all he could do was stare at the huge pearly puddle in his palm. It was Rhianne who finally broke the silence.

"I suppose that we'll now have to allow this from time to time." she opined, "if only, as I've said , for health purposes." She then looked down at the contents in his hand. "Dispose of that." she ordered, "and come right back. It's long past time to get you back into your security."

Obediently, he did as she said.

True to her word, Rhianne did allow him further relief from time to time. Rory quickly discovered however that unlike the first time, any pleadings on his part or even just subtle hints of his need and desire, proved counterproductive. He was granted release only at times of her choosing and whim, always under her watchful eye, and always every bit as electric and all consuming.

He found himself doing more and more for her outside his contracted duties and chores, not because he was trying to curry her favor for any extra 'special' events, but because he was getting increasing pleasure from doing so. Without her asking he began to regularly wash and polish her car. He took it upon himself to plant and then meticulously tend to a large flower garden in her front yard. After work hours he would shop for her, at first just for household items he needed for his work there, but before long he was buying her groceries as well. Rhianne always made sure to reimburse him for all the expenditures, but soon she was also drawing up regular shopping lists of things for him to buy.

On his own he frequently began to buy flowers ... for her. He was afraid, and did not think that it was appropriate or his place to personally give them to her, so he would put them in vases and place them in a variety of spots around the house. His heart would leap when, unnoticed, he would spy her in front of one, bending forward to smell as a smile would come to her lips.

One Friday evening during her foot massage she lamented, almost to herself, on the state of her nails, and that because she had been so busy recently with her work she hadn't had the time to visit the salon.

"Teach me how to do it, Ma'am." he impulsively offered. "To save you the time and effort of going there. And the expense. I know I can do it. I'm a fast learner."

She took a few moments to ponder, then, "I know you are. Why not." she concluded. "And we might as well start the lessons right now."

She directed him as to where to find all the necessary items and within minutes he was back with a large basin of warm scented water, two towels, a pumice stone, a bottle of nail polish remover, a bag of cotton balls, and finally her own personal choice of midnight blue nail polish.

After setting them all down carefully as she settled into the easy chair with her legs propped on the hassock, he arranged himself comfortably on his knees before her. She first instructed him on the use of the pumice stone and how to pare away any dead skin and smooth down any calluses. This was followed by his thoroughly removing all of the old polish on her nails with cotton balls doused with the acetone remover. She then soaked both of her feet in the scented water before removing them for him to dry and then guiding him on how to clip and file all of her nails. When this was finally accomplished she had him put cotton balls between all of her toes and begin the slow and meticulous process of painting them all. He couldn't help his slightly trembling fingers, but when he was finally finished he added his own inspiration of softly blowing on them to help them dry.

It was far from a perfect job, but as a first effort she deemed it satisfactory and declared that she was sure that he would improve with further practice. And he did so, rapidly, and it soon became another of his regular duties, no longer requiring her monitoring as she would comfortably sit in her easy chair, her legs outstretched on the hassock, and work on the computer on her lap as he on his knees attended to her toes.

This wasn't the only personal service he came to be called on to perform. One late Monday afternoon, just as he was finishing his dusting in the dining room she came in and told him that she had had a very tense and trying day at work on the computer and would he mind massaging the tight muscles in her neck for a bit. Fighting back the urge to say that not only wouldn't he mind but that he would crawl on his belly for such an opportunity, he merely said, "With pleasure Ma'am."

So very well practiced from his weekly work on the soles of her feet, he dug his thumbs and fingers expertly into the taut muscles of her neck and shoulders. He could feel them relax and almost melt under his kneading, and it didn't take much coaxing on his part to convince her to allow him to manage the same magic on her upper and lower back. While this did not become a routine part of his work schedule, she did not hesitate from frequently requesting it of him whenever she felt the need.

Seeing now how hard she was working and the toll that it sometimes seemed to take, he took it upon himself to begin bringing her snacks and a hot cup of tea in the mid afternoons when he was there. The first time that he did so she looked up at him crossly and chided him sharply for the interruption, but she quickly came to appreciate and even savor these breaks.

He also noticed more often on his arrival that she was frequently neglecting lunch, so on those days he started making one for her and insisting that she eat. She agreed to do so only after herself insisting that he make some for himself and join her. It was during these times that she first began to open up to him about herself. From these conversations he gathered enough hints to surmise that she was a writer, though of what he could not deduce. She was more forthcoming about how well traveled she had been at one time, although she no longer did so because the requirements and effort of traveling alone had grown too tiresome. He wondered to himself why someone like her would ever have to travel alone, but he never dared ask. In any event, she would say, she would probably like to travel again some day when circumstances might be different.

By her account she had countless contacts on the web, but apparently few friends locally, some of whom she would occasionally visit, or who would more rarely visit her here. Except for an infrequent trip into the city, or a quick drive to a store, she didn't venture out much any more. Her work had become her life and that, she had stated, was enough for her. But he had a strong sense that she was also waiting for something. For what, he didn't know.

As the first year anniversary of his employment with her came and passed, unremarked upon by her but clearly marked by him, Rory conceded to himself that he had settled into a strangely comfortable routine. Seventy percent of his work week was still with his other clients and this was where his income was generated. Though significantly less that what it once been, it was still enough for him to get by. It was during the other thirty percent however, despite the many constraints both physical and mental, where he found his most purpose and fulfillment. While he still would occasionally fantasize that she might someday want more from him ... free, he now accepted that this was never likely to happen. She just saw him as her jack ... or make that her ... servant-of-all-trades. But as long as she had some need for him, it would have to be enough. He still had his business and the freedom, with one obvious encumbrance, of his nights and weekends. And most importantly he still had his Friday evening ritual and reward, which as always continued to captivate and entrance. He had become ... oddly ... content.

It was several weeks later that Rhianne surprised him by meeting him at the door as he arrived one Friday afternoon. She had never done so before, and he became even more concerned that for the first time he could ever remember she appeared distressed.

"We have to talk." was all she said as she turned and led him one more time into her living room. This time though she waited until he, upon her direction, sat himself down on the edge of the hassock before she took her own place on the couch. He couldn't help but notice how unsettled , even nervous, she continued to be as she looked up and down at her hands, and his own anxiety began to rise. An uncomfortable silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity before she looked up at him with a sense of resolve.

"Rory, you've been working here for me for over a year now and you've done everything and anything that I've ever asked of you, and you've always performed beyond my highest expectations."

Once again he basked in the glow of her praise but this time with a knot of concern in his gut.

"But over the past few weeks, even months, I've struggled a great deal with thoughts and issues, and I've finally come to an understanding and conclusion." She looked down at her hands again, and then back up.

"Rory, I need more." she declared fiercely.

Rory strove vainly to hold himself in check. Could this really be happening after all this time and so many disappointments? Did she now finally want him, as he had never ceased to dream, released and free for more personal use? He was almost too afraid to ask.

"What is it that you want, Ma'am?"

She didn't answer right away, once again seeming very uncertain. Looking down at her hands one more time she took a deep breath, looked up and rushed forth with increasing fervor.

"I need someone here for me full time, not just a meager three afternoons a week ... someone to be at my beck and call 24/7 ... 365 ... to always be here for my every want and whim." Another deep breath. "And Rory, I'd very much like that someone to be you."

Rory actually physically rocked back. If she had surprised, even shocked him in the past with her proposals, this time he was completely knocked off his pins. His practical and pragmatic self, the part of him that had always been in control, and had governed all his actions and life until he had met her, was the first to regain equilibrium and respond.

"But how could I earn a living?" he countered in some desperation. "How would I support myself?"

She laughed. Her delighted laugh. And it somewhat lessened the tension that had enveloped them both.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that." She answered lightly. "You will be well kept. I'm more than well enough off financially to possess you."

She grew very serious again.

"But understand Rory," she continued much more sternly. "This is a one time, take it or leave it offer. If you don't feel that you're capable ..." more quietly, "... if it's not what you want ... " a sigh, " ... then we'll say goodbye, and I'll begin to look for someone else." A final inhalation. "What do you say?"

What could he say? His pragmatic self strove strenuously to reassert its dominance and say it was impossible and out of the question, but as he looked up into her now impassive and implacable face, behind it, in her eyes, he saw a yearning, a vulnerability, even a fear. What could she ever have to be afraid of? His rejection? That could never be. And the part of him that had been so deeply hidden for so long, that she had exposed and brought to the light, that she had so carefully and fully nurtured and molded, the real Rory, now understood and asserted its rightful place. He would be her rock, her foundation, her stepping stone back into the world, to be and do whatever she wanted and needed, serving and protecting and always being there for her as she continued to search for whatever it was that she was waiting. That she might only want of him to be her beast of burden no longer mattered. It would be his life and his joy, and what he was meant to be.

"I'm yours." was all he could say.

Perhaps it was that he hadn't said so immediately, or maybe that she didn't, wouldn't, couldn't truly believe.

"Prove it." she demanded harshly. "Take out your phone and call them ... call them all and tell them that you're not going back, that you're never going back. Call them right now."

Rory took out his cell and under her glare he called each and every one of his clients. He told them all that he had just been offered the opportunity of a lifetime and that he had no choice but to take it, and that he would thus no longer be able to work for them. With each call his conviction and certainty grew, as did her smile, so that as he finished his last call it was the most dazzling one with which she had ever graced him. It was done. He was now solely hers.

Her smile now became more serene.

"With your new position there will of course be some new responsibilities." she informed him after a few moments. "And certain new privileges as well." Her eyes sparkled. "Take off your clothes, houseboy, and lie down on the floor."

In less than a minute, save for his device Rory lay naked on his back on the ground before her. She rose off the couch and in his full view slowly took off her top, followed by her bra, and for the first time ever he was allowed to regard her bare and luscious breasts. She slipped off her bottoms and towered above him as her naked beauty took his breath away.

She allowed him some seconds to savor, and couldn't suppress a low throaty chuckle watching him squirm and groan as his manhood involuntarily squashed against the walls of its unforgiving confines. She moved to stand with her feet straddling his upturned face as she looked down the length of his magnificent body. Slowly she began to lower herself, opening and bringing her treasure closer and closer until her knees came to rest on either side of his chest, her trove mere inches above his mouth.

"Make me happy, houseboy." was all she said as she completed the journey onto his waiting lips.

Her scent was sublime, but as his tongue began to flick out onto her most precious gem her taste was even sweeter. He kept his licking light at first, sending small shivers through her before he moved somewhat more insistently deeper into her vault, eliciting within her even greater jolts of joy. After some time he ventured further back to her nethermost bud, feeling her tense above as if she had never expected his attention there, but she soon relaxed and offered up that orifice as well for more copious laving, bringing forth in her waves of a different sense of pleasure. Stiffening his tongue he finally eased forward once again to her more cherished opening, thrusting it within rapidly as she began to sway and then buck furiously above. Pounding up and down on his buried face she felt herself rising higher and higher, slowly giving way until with an inarticulate cry she arched back and her juices gushed forth below in a fury, bathing his tongue, lips, mouth and face as he continued to lap with unrestrained ardor, attempting to imbibe as much of her exquisite nectar as he was able. Her passion finally subsided and she slumped forward to bring her head to rest on his belly, as her slit remained firmly planted on his lips, with his nose buried between her buttocks cheeks.

How long they remained as such he was never sure, but eventually he felt her stir, sit up, and to his shock begin to manipulate his cage. Suddenly, incredibly, he was free, as she rose off of him and repositioned herself sitting astride on his belly in front of his already risen and upright member as she gazed down upon his face.

"That was very nice, but I think this is going to be even better." she said. She then leaned forward so that her own face was just inches above his and practically hissed.

"You're mine and mine only, houseboy. For me and me alone. I OWN you."

"Forever." he replied.

Her face softened as did her voice.

"You're the 'One' Rory. The One I've been waiting for so long. You'll always be the One."

She bent forward and down and kissed him, long and hard, tasting him and herself on his lips, savoring it fully as their tongues danced together joyously. Finally, reluctantly, but with even greater anticipation, she pulled away and lifted herself up and positioned herself over his ready and willing spear. "Enter me. Now." she said

She was still very wet , but so very tight as he slowly worked his way up, and she down, until he was finally fully within, and they both gasped together in pleasure. She began to rock back and forth cautiously and he responded in pace, both growing more rapid and bold, and before long each threw caution to the wind, thrusting unrelentingly upon and within each other, grabbing and stroking and clawing and screaming at each other before they both exploded ...together, their essences pouring forth unrestrained to surge and join and mingle in ecstatic unity until neither had any ability to give or accept more. Finally, both of them thoroughly spent, she slid off and to his side and nestled her head upon his shoulder and chest.

They lay together like that for uncounted time before Rhianne finally roused herself and sat up crossed legged beside him.

"That was unbelievably wonderful, Rory." she purred, caressing his face softly with the back of her hand. "I think that you're going to make me very, very happy."