Working Day

She rose from the bed and I went to sit on the end of it as she took clothes from hangers and draws. She put them close to me on the bed and then she too, sat close, by the wall. She pulled me to her; an unexpected move for it was very tender and undemanding. There was no lustful intention in it. She looked me in the eye and kissed me. Her lips were soft and tender against mine. I would die for her kisses! I loved it when our tongues fought each other, flaying and exploring in our passion. But I loved this, so unusual, kiss. Her gaze never faltered. "Baby." She said, "Tell me if you're not happy at any time, OK?" I nodded to her, grateful for the love that had, gradually and painstakingly, allowed the diverse sexual animal in me to escape over a traumatic year. The same love that had just said that I need run only as far as I wanted to.

"Will you dress for me?" she asked, a little tentatively. Maybe before I would have hesitated but the few words that had allowed me to say "No" had also made me so eager to say "Yes". I was so grateful to her. We shared the excitement but never wanted to hurt each other, never wanted to push too far. She was so wonderful then and I knelt by her feet, looking adoringly up at her.

"From your lover and friend," I said, my hand holding hers, "I would do anything for you at this moment and I would love to dress for you." Then I went on but my gaze had fallen to her feet, "And from your slut, " I said, "your submissive, your maid, your toy...I want only to serve my Mistress, with no question in my mind or heart and wish never to disobey her commands and instruction. Yes Mistress, I will dress for you."

I kissed her as I stood up, the transition from submissive to lover an easy one. We both knew where we stood and there was always time to keep real feelings in the situation. After all this was, to us, totally real. A life that excluded most day to day things and allowed us to live exclusively for each other.

I picked up the pale stockings. They were patterned at the top, lace topped hold-ups. Suspenders can be so attractive but I thought that she may have been looking for as few lines from undergarments as possible. It also stated simplicity and prettiness. My foot rested on the bed as I slid the stockings up. My knee was bent and my body leant forward. I caressed the stocking over smooth skin. I controlled my erection to some extent, knowing that it could ruin the picture for her. I tried so hard and I saw that she smiled several times as I dressed. She was looking straight at my face when she did so and I knew that she realised what it was doing to me and why I didn't let it show. I slipped the patterned black thong up my legs. All things that she had bought were checked for their fullness and ability to hold the masculine side of me in control. The thong would not have held a cock taken over by raging lust but was currently fine. I pulled a black clip-up band around my waist. I fastened a dozen hooks and eyes, feeling it tighten around me. I turned the clips to the back and moved the garment up my body, feeling the cups lift and support my tiny breasts. I could not resist to glide my fingers over the cups, feeling my nipples jutting out, so very hard. I must have looked surprised for she laughed quietly.

"You don't just feel good, Baby." She said, "You look good too!"

Somehow I seemed to have been taken over by my role; I was so pleased to accept her compliments. I felt like a giggly schoolgirl! And an hour or so ago I had my head between her legs keeping her pinned to the bed! I took my thoughts back to the present and stopped questioning. "Go with the flow." She had always advised. I did.

I slipped the dress up my body. Black, as the dress was, is a traditional colour for a maid but this had a different cut. It was very light; it hugged the curves of my torso and seemed to accentuate the shape of my breasts and the cleavage that she had enhanced for me. The neckline dropped a little into my cleavage but otherwise it was cut straight across below my shoulders. The hem was cut in an uneven and so was halfway up my thigh on the right and floated down just above the knee on the left. The material moved with me as I spun in it. It seemed to take forever to float down to rest, like being clothed in clouds! It was light, simple and beautiful. I knew it must have taken a lot of thought to find it but was not troubled; the look that she had found was what she wanted to see...and the material was something that I wanted to feel. Her eyes told me she wasn't disappointed. She gestured me closer, her eyes taking in the split skirt on my right leg. My thigh became totally exposed and from my foot all the way up to my hip could be seen. I saw her bite her lip and knew that her lust was, for her, almost at the point where she had to let it out. Her eyes glanced up towards me, coming back to reality. She reached to a bag that I hadn't seen.

"Kneel for me, Hon" she said. I did, keeping her feet, correctly, in my field of vision. The bag rustled and I felt my head being covered. A thousand electric shocks went up my spine as I realised the extent of her attention to detail. I felt fine hair fall to my shoulders and hoped that I could do justice to her efforts. She fluffed my hair, slightly arranging it. She seemed thoughtful, considering the whole effect maybe. She pushed open-toed, dainty black sandals towards me. The heel no more than a couple of inches. I slid in my feet, one by one, and strapped them on. The shoes were the last to go on but the finishing touch to making feel so very feminine. My minds eye saw a made up guy with a soft, feminine form whilst I felt like a very sexy girl. My eyes asked her of her opinion. She looked me over, the way that guys do when they see a good looking woman. She gloated, it was like she almost raped me in her mind. Her gaze was so deep it reached inside me. But then, if she could see that, in a person that she knew so well, perhaps the effect wasn't as superficial as I had feared and I basked in the effect that I had on her. Her actions to what stood before her were blatant. She moved one leg up to rest on the bed where she sat. Her towel slipped to uncover her now wide-apart pussy lips. Without changing the direction of her look she slid, slowly but firmly, two fingers as deep inside her as possible. Unusually she kept her eyes open; they feasted on this image that she had created and her fingers moved faster in and out of her body. Her cum seemed to running freely, soaking her pussy and the towel on which she sat and dripping from her fingers as they slid from her cunt. I knew that she could last only seconds and watched, spellbound and turned on, desperate to watch her orgasm as she looked at me. She came, suddenly, almost quietly for her but I suspect that the intensity just left her speechless. For almost a minute her body was ripped by the aftershocks that she always felt. But these seemed to be so intense that they seemed to wrench her as much as the main orgasm.

At last she opened her eyes and teased me by licking her wet fingers and then sliding them back into her pussy, collecting her love juice. She could sense my excitement and she wanted to share hers with me. She pointed to the long mirror. I stood in front of it, looking slowly from toe to top, hoping that I wouldn't see a drag-queen parody. When I completed the look I realised that I shouldn't have worried. The sandals were dainty, the stockings pretty, the dress simple, huggy and demure. Behind my face I could see myself but it took little to see into the face of the girl whom my Mistress saw. For both their sakes I was pleased.

I turned away from the mirror and she looked up at me. "Thankyou." I said. She smiled and reached for clothes for herself. I stood and watched but my eyes stayed rooted to the spot in front of her feet. We had got this far and I had no wish to spoil it.

She slid black stockings to the top of her thighs. They were black hold-ups and hugged, as fine as cobwebs, to her hairless legs. After the second stocking slid up her leg I could resist no more and looked up a little, feasting like a voyeur on my naked Mistress wearing nothing but stockings, jewellery and make-up. I have no idea how I kept even a semblance of control. I felt like I had been detached from reality and was desperate to throw her onto the bed and plough my rock hard cock into her hot, wet pussy. My cock was aching and I was desperate to fuck her. I didn't just want her - my body desperately needed her. She looked at me, straight and hard. "No!" she almost shouted. The word was a direct command, one chance to do as directed. I dared not do otherwise. I fought with my lust but suspect that I just ended up with a restless cock and driblets of precum oozing into my pretty thong. I was sad that I had put a stain on her painstaking work, but glad that the female had taken over a few things but certainly not the way that I wanted her. I watched with lowered eyes again as she slid a black thong up her legs and then fastened a short skirt around her waist. The black leather ended high above her stocking tops. She fastened a black basque around her and then pulled it around so that her breasts were supported by the underwired cups. Her full breasts were tantalizingly evident over the half cups and the basque squeezed them together. My eyes were tortured by the sight of her firm boobs, enticing me towards them but allowing no access. I would have begged so hard to be able to touch, to play, to tease and suck. The continual turn on had left me needy, rampant, wanton. So full of lust. I was going out of my mind...nothing had ever been this subtle or prolonged or intense. There was no touch to appease it or to play with it. It was a mental battle of lust that I was desperate to confront. She eased up her long, soft leather, thigh length boots. She zipped up their length and stood in heels several inches high. She reached for a belt; thick and with studs and rings. She fastened the several buckles and it clinched her waist just a little tighter. She stood before me and, with furtive glances I drank in her thighs between skirt hem and stocking top. I wanted to look, caress and try and be worthy for this black-clad Goddess. Her appearance was, to me, sexually provocative, totally real, three dimensional but totally untouchable. She could command armies and slay them as well just with a look. She was pure sex with a steel coating of danger.

Eventually my head stopped reeling, my brain came a little under control, at least enough to focus. "Now, maid." Her voice addressed me. "Tidy this place up and make it suitable." She watched as I picked up towels, emptied the bin, tidied the bed and the lines of shoes. I could feel her eyes watching me, knowing that the skirt was lifting up in places to show a bare ass cheek as I bent over. At first I felt embarrassed but, after a couple of bends I found myself wanting her to look. Wanting her to get excited by my body the way that I lusted after hers. I bent from the waist, picking up imaginery things, feeling the material of the thong slide as deep as possible into the crack of my ass. I knew what she was thinking; I knew that she was looking hard at my pretty ass, surrounded by pretty material and part of a pretty woman. She needed to take the girl, to fuck a tight virgin cunt, to lure her into the ways of lesbian lust. But also she needed his aching, untouched ass to be before her. She wanted to know how it was submitted willingly to a generous Mistress. She needed to know that it was hers to do anything with; to play with, to be used. She needed to know that her panty-boy, her pretty boy in a dress, her sweet little he-girl, would raise his legs above his head and be a wanton receptacle for her desires. I turned towards her, knowing what she needed and knowing that, having come this far, that I would not turn back. I so needed for me to be the object of her lust as she was with me. To fuck my pussy the way that I was freely able to fuck hers.

With the room tidied I went and started on the lounge. She followed, watching for errors and, no doubt, storing them away in her memory for future reference...or should that be reprimand? The buzzer from the door heralded the arrival of the client.

"When you have tidied I want you to polish your nails for me." She instructed. "She brought in her metal case and placed it on the bench. Opening it without hurrying she selected a colour, placed it next to the case and went out without another word. I watched the leather skirt hugging her ass, wanting her, needing her, but in respect of the position that I had been placed in I said nothing. I was so hard, excited by thoughts of her body. The door clicked shut behind her.

Over the next hour I painted finger and toe nails with the light pastel shade she had left. It, like the clothes that she had selected, gave a demure and virginal impression. I hoped that she would be pleased with the result. Everything I did I wanted to be good for her and appreciated by her. Her pleasure was not an option, in my mind it was a necessity. After another half hour, with her voice drifting through the wall, a harsh, commanding voice that carried a sternness that I had never before heard, I heard footsteps and the opening and closing of the door. The lounge door opened and she looked inside.

"You OK Hon?" I asked, tenderly.

She nodded and smiled, "Fine thanks Baby." She replied, grateful for the concern. And then her look and role changed. "You will only refer to me as Mistress, understand?"

"Yes, Mistress." I replied, my role also having changed. I did not look at her but at the floor just inches in front of her feet.

"Come here." She commanded and I rose to follow. I felt the dress brush against my thigh and was enraptured by the stocking clad leg that showed itself as I walked. I took a drink in with me for her.

She was sitting on the end of the bed and I placed the drink on the shelf. She nodded, knowing that it was her right to be given it and not that I had performed anything more than what was expected. As I moved she watched; heels, stockings and the black dress painting the picture that she desired. A tall girl, a pretty and useful servant. But she knew what lay underneath the dress and her lust encompassed it all.

"Come over here. Kneel in front of me." I did, head bowed and the hem of the dress floated down to meet my stockinged legs. She gazed, double-drawing on the cigarette as she feasted on the sight of the female form in front of her. Gently she laid back on the bed. I heard her voice as a haze of smoke drifted towards the ceiling. Her tone was relaxed, almost sleepy. I suspected that she was just euphoric.

"Slip of my skirt and thong for me Maid." I unzipped the skirt, trying not to move her more than necessary as I did so. I drew it over her boots. I folded it and placed it to one side and then gripped the thin slivers of material of her thong. Gradually I revealed her pussy as I drew the garment slowly down. In moving slowly it allowed me take in the bare skin and the moisture that clung to the lips. As the thong slipped over her heels she opened her legs a little wider. So cruel to tempt the maid with such an exquisite sight. I longed to touch the damp skin and taste her with my tongue. The whole of my body was tense; wanting but not able to touch. I sat, my eyes resting on her inviting sex. My cock, as tense as the rest of me, ached to slide into the warm wetness that loved it.

How long I knelt I do not know. A few minutes maybe. She knew exactly what she was doing and she, it seemed, aimed to ensure her pleasure by extending my frustration.

"Lick me." She commanded. I went to move forward but she went on, "Lick me slowly, gently. My pussy needs to be satisfied. It is wet and needy. Don't stop until I say so."

My body eased forward, strands of hair falling and brushing along her thighs as I moved. She moaned softly, feeling the trail of soft hair and the warmth of my breath as neared her pussy. I lowered my head and slid the tip of my tongue along the lips of her cunt.

"Oh yes, yes." The words were almost a whisper, hidden in a sigh. My mouth enveloped the length of her crack and my tongue probed very slightly between her lips. Her body tensed and I heard her moan again. Steadily I traced inside her cunt with my tongue. Tasting her wetness and desperate for more of her nectar fluid. My tongue probed deeper, feeling the walls of her love tunnel close around it. Time and again I drank droplets of her cum as my tongue slid inside her. More hair fell forward making a warm, safe cave to house her pussy and my mouth. I did not brush the hair away, I wanted her to feel it, to know exactly who was pleasuring her. I wanted her to feel the girl who drank from her Mistresses' cunt.

I licked her time and again, my tongue finding every small fold of skin and delving as deep as possible inside her. I moved my head upwards a little, finding her clit and taking it between my lips. I kissed it slowly, lovingly, relishing the hard bud and then teasing it with my flicking tongue. I heard her speak, gasp more like, she had used the words before but never had I felt them so appropriate; she knew that her man was not kneeling between her legs but knew that her Maid, the girl that she had cherished and created, was tongue-fucking her.

"Yes, oh yes. You're such a good girl. Lick your Mistress. Fuck her with your tongue. Fuck me you slut. You bitch. Lick me!" Her voice rose as did her hips as her orgasm approached. I felt her hand brush my face as she slid a finger into her tight hole. I reached up and took her hand, stilling its movement. "Please Mistress." I begged, "Please let me." She was torn between her need for satisfaction and her desire to make her Maid make her cum. Her hand drew away, acknowledging that the girl could control and guide her orgasm to a higher level. My head dipped again and I sucked her clit between my lips. She gasped at the intense feeling and then cried out in pleasure as my tongue lapped hard at the little bud. I felt her hands pushing my head harder against her cunt, she ran her fingers through the length of it and then gripped hard as she smothered her sex with my face. Her hips were bucking, desperate for release. Constantly she told me that I was a good girl but that Mistress needed to cum. My tongue lapped and I pushed harder against her clit, faster and harder, my one goal to make her cum and to make her cum blissfully. My face was wet with her cum, my arms ached as I tried to control her writhing body as my tongue drove the orgasm from her cunt, wracking her body and feeling shudder after shudder pass through her. Still I continued to lick, not against her now tender and sensitive clit, but deeper into her pussy and around the lips. Gently I lapped at the drops of cum and savoured the taste. It took some minutes for her to relax and, at that time, I kissed her pussy and raised my head, brushing hair from my face as I awaited her next instruction. I could have stayed there forever, feasting on her insatiable sex, but I didn't want to overstep the mark and thought I should wait until told.

She rose on one elbow, looking down at me.

"I do love to have you at my feet." She said, "So that you can do whatever I ask, whenever I ask it."

"Anything Mistress." I replied without hesitating. I bent my body forward and touched my head to her boot, kissing the long heel."

She smiled. "So sweet, such dedication. You're such a good girl. But now; take your dress off and come up on the bed with me and I will fix your make-up."

She watched as I slipped, with a little regret I admit, the light dress past my breasts, over my ass and stepped lightly out of it. I folded it and placed it on top of the basket.