I Have An Idea Ch. 05

She placed her finger under her chin and urged him forward, toward her, so he could feel the heat of her face, so their lips were close but not touching. "I want you to go through the hamper and pull out all of my dirty undies. You'll have to dig all through my dirty clothes. I have a whole week's worth. Make sure you get every one. Can you do that?"

He panted. He blushed. He moaned. "Oh . . . yes, Ma'am."

She smiled. "Good boy. Then you are to take them to the sink and run the hot water. Put some laundry soap in the sink and wash each one, one at a time, paying special attention to the gusset. Do you know what a gusset is?"

He shook his head. "The . . . the inside?"

She smiled and let her warm breath flow down over his lips. "The little panty liner that soaks up all of my sweat and juice, yes. Before you clean them, you will bring it to your nose and take a good long sniff, fill up your senses with it."

He shuddered uncontrollably. "Y-yes, Ma'am."

"Then clean them and hang them to dry. Be careful with them. I don't want any stains or rips. My panties are very special to me and they are about to become very special to you. Do you understand?"

He understood. He couldn't not understand.

* * *

He washed her panties, inhaling her scent on each one, registering the smell of her in his mind. Soon, he was washing her bras. Soon, he was arm deep in her laundry hamper. He sorted them into colors and whites, delicates and gentle cycle, following detailed instructions from her. The first times he stood before the washer, she'd watched him load each item, instructing him to smell each one, to press it to his nose and inhale. Did it smell like her? Like her body? Like her sweat? Like her perfume?

The first time he'd poured in the soap and the bleach and the softener, she instructed him to stop and wait while she came up behind him, pressed her body into his, reached around and stroked him tenderly. It was not purposeful stroking; it was not stroking that in any way led him to believe that this is the day she would let him cum. In fact, it was just the opposite. She made sure of it by whispering over his shoulder, chanting, "Good boy. Don't cum. Don't cum, Baby. Be a good boy and do your Mistress's laundry."

Her tone was always musical now, a song of restraint, of arousal, of instruction.

When he'd put her clothes into the drier the first time, she gave him the same treatment. Out of his chastity belt, her soft hands on his hard cock, chanting behind him. "Don't cum. Good boy."

The next two times he did laundry, he got the same treatment. It drove him wild with desire, with excitement.

But the next time he did her laundry, she kissed him softly on the lips and said, "You don't need me watching over you anymore. Do it right. Be a good boy."

He had an erection the entire time, the sweat and stink of her laundry driving him to heights of arousal.

'How is he doing?' her new mentor asked.

Ella sipped her coffee and tapped on the keyboard. 'Very well. He's gone from hating doing laundry to begging me to let him do it, lol.'

'So, the training is going well then?'

It was just that: training. She was training him, changing him, conditioning him with his own pleasure, with his own eagerness to please her. He knew it, too. He'd brought it up in their weekly chats. She'd been worried for a moment, but it turned out that his knowledge of her intention had only made the situation even more pleasurable for him.

"I know what you're doing, making me love doing your laundry . . . and I can't stop it. It's working. Just thinking of washing your panties gives me a hard on. The idea of shoving my hands deep into your hamper where the smell of your clothes almost overpower me and the fact that I know you made me love it . . . it's driving me crazy. It makes me feel helpless."

She petted him on the head, watching as he tipped the brush over her toenail and gave it a nice red lacquer. "I can make you do anything I want, just by calling you a good boy." She giggled and he blushed, but nodded, shuddering the entire time.

'Remember,' her new mentor warned, 'you still need to reinforce it from time to time. Every now and then, randomly if you can manage it, give him a little attention, a pat, a stroke, a "good boy", something to reinforce the pleasure in his mind when he serves you.'

Ella smiled as she felt Jim blowing cool airs across her toes, drying the top coat. She tapped away at her keyboard. 'I feel like . . . in a way . . . I feel like I'm brainwashing him.'

Her mentor messaged back. 'Oh, Sweety . . . that's EXACTLY what you're doing, and he knows it, and he can't get enough of it.'

She glanced down under the table and saw Jim's naked ass. She decided to test that theory. "Jim, Honey. My mentor from the Divine Tantra site says that you don't mind me brainwashing you into being my helpless slave. What do you say?"

She had never mentioned her mentors before. She wondered what he would say.

Jim's voice was a bit muffled by the table, but it choked with pleasure. "She's right, Ma'am."

She leaned over and looked at him beneath the table. He felt her gaze right away and looked up at her. "Up," she said softly and he beside her on his knees in a moment.

The distant sound of the clothes washer churning away struck them both in the silence.

She tapped his nose, then playfully ran her fingernail down the bridge of his nose, over the Cupid's bow of his lips, down over his lips until it rested on his chin. There were a million things she wanted to say to him, all ending with "thank you", but instead she said, "Did you do a good job on my toes?"

Breathlessly, he whispered, "Yes, Ma'am."

She reached down and gave his chastity belt a little tug. It said, "Mine" without her speaking a single word.

"Do you," she wondered and bit her lip, feeling shy, "do you want to call me Mistress?"

His eyes never wavered. "More than anything in the world."

She smiled and felt breathless, her heart thudding in her chest, her pulse like thunder in her ears. "Then," she whispered, "then you better be an extra good boy and do everything I tell you to do from now."

His nod was almost imperceptible. "Yes, Ma'am."

In the distance, the clothes washer buzzed. They smiled at each other.

He groaned as his cock grew uncomfortably in the tight chastity cage.

As Jim scrambled to finish her laundry, Ella typed a message to her new mentor. "Where does one go about buying a collar?"

She wasn't entirely sure how she would present it to him. Maybe she would make stand in the corner on his knees to earn it or maybe she would spank him unmercifully with a wooden spoon until he broke into a sweat and whimpered.

Then she felt a grin break on her face. She giggled helplessly.

She had an idea.