An Obedient Boy for Katherine

Marcus stood nervously in the hallway and knocked lightly on the door of Mrs. Stewart's home office. He'd moved into the empty suite at the Stewarts' house, originally designed for a live-in maid, to attend the college that was just down the road. Mrs. Stewart was a close friend, she'd called herself a "bestie," of Marcus' aunt Bess, his mother's youngest sister. At 19, and only a dozen years younger than Bess and Mrs. Stewart, Marcus always felt a little out of place as he spoke to her in her role as landlady. He'd always had a playful friendship with Bess growing up, but his relationship with Mrs. Stewart was more formal and, if he had to admit it, awkward.

For Marcus, it didn't help that Mrs. Stewart was an absolute MILF. She didn't have any children, but that's the term that came, again and again, to Marcus' mind. Every time, after he told himself he wasn't going to make her the center of his stroke sessions again, he was right there, imagining all the ways he would enjoy himself with his curvaceous landlady. And every time, he fought back the guilt it raised as he imagined her innocently laughing and smiling with Aunt Bess who had always seemed more like an older sister.

Inhaling slowly, Marcus waited for his knock to be answered. At 5-feet 6-inches in height, he knew that even with the way his body had filled out through puberty and been toned by wrestling in high school, he didn't exactly present a strong physical presence. Mrs. Stewart... Katherine... stood 5-feet 9-inches in her stockings. Her predilection for wearing heels, rarely less than three inches in height, ensured that she seemed to tower over Marcus whenever they were close to one another. With a gymnast's athleticism that she maintained in their home gym, and light brown hair usually in a loose braid or a bun, Katherine Stewart had a personal presence that could dominate any room. She knew it. She dressed for it. And she had a gentle yet controlling manner that ensured people did things her way because they wanted to.

It was a full five minutes before Marcus timidly accepted that his knock hadn't been heard. He figured Mrs. Stewart might have been using her headphones, or the knock just wasn't hard enough. He raised his hand to try again, harder this time.

As Marcus' hand started it movement towards the wood panel of the door, he barely registered that the door opened wide. Mrs. Stewart stepped forward just in time to feel the impact of Marcus' knuckles against her left breast.

Realizing the immensity of his error, Marcus gasped. Eyes and mouth wide, he half-jumped, half-stepped, backward until he was against the other side of the hallway.

"Oh, my, God!" gasped Marcus, "I am so, so, sorry, Mrs. Stewart."

Mrs. Stewart stood in the open doorway holding a coffee cup in one hand. She wore a white blouse and a knee-length grey wool skirt with a stiff leather bustier covering her bloused torso from her waist upward to cover her firm breasts with full cups of shiny black leather. On her legs, she wore grey patterned thigh-high stockings and shiny black pumps with 4-inch heels. While others on her Zoom meeting calls might be content with head and shoulders in camera view, Katherine enjoyed positioning the camera so that it showed her as she moved around the room. She knew that taking that liberty also gave her a sense that the others were in her space for meetings. Katherine wasn't in the habit of giving anyone an advantage if she could avoid it. In the male-dominated world of insurance adjustment, she'd learned early that control of any situation was an advantage.

"Good morning Marcus," Katherine said, "I only have five minutes and I need to refresh my coffee. If you need to speak to me, do so as we walk."

With that, Katherine strode past Marcus and headed into the main area of the house toward the kitchen. Marcus faltered, then tried to keep pace with her. As he moved, he felt the pounding of his heart as the hot flush of embarrassment reddened his face and overwhelmed him with the sense of having just "knocked" on Mrs. Stewart's breast.

Marcus bit his lips to suppress the tiny moan as he replayed, over and over, the touch of his knuckles against the leather surface of Mrs. Stewart's bustier. In his mind, he saw all the ways he'd ever imagined touching those luscious rounded breasts. He'd tormented himself with trying to decide if they were natural or enhanced, but could never be certain.

Katherine would be delighted that Marcus couldn't tell. She was proud of her breasts. They were a firm rounded C-cup that she'd had promoted to a D-cup before her wedding, a decision she'd never regretted. Everything else, she was equally proud to say, was completely natural and toned and treated with careful attention to diet and exercise.

Watching as Mrs. Stewart turned the corner into the kitchen, Marcus was focused on the way her waist was cinched by the bustier and the flare of her hips. With each step her bottom moved, enticed, and teased. He knew he was supposed to be talking as they went but the mesmerizing flow of Mrs. Stewart's form prevented rational thought in his teenage brain, at least until he reached the kitchen to find her waiting for him.

The kitchen seemed almost as big as the bungalow where Marcus and his mother had lived after his father's death. From the large preparation and cooking island and then the dividing high counter, the view from the kitchen opened onto a huge living room space that could comfortably seat a dozen in the custom sofas and easily another dozen standing or in ad hoc seating arrangements without crowding the space. A dining table at the end of the kitchen could seat six, and larger dinner parties of up to a dozen when the table was extended.

Opposite the kitchen across the spacious living room were the polished hardwood double doors that led to the Stewarts' master suite. Marcus had never been invited in there, but Aunt Beth had described a huge king-sized bed, double walk-in closets, and his and hers bathrooms. Beside the hallway that went past Mrs. Stewart's office, and led to Marcus' small suite and the garage, was an open stairwell to the second floor. Marcus knew that there were three large guest suites upstairs, each with an en suite bath, walk-in closets, and more. The spacious house was the result of Mrs. Stewart's family wealth and the combined pay of two well-placed executives in their respective fields. Just to be on the periphery of their lifestyle was imposing for Marcus, and he was very aware of the benefits that could come with being associated with the Stewarts, a relationship he wanted to maintain at any cost.

"Talk, now," Mrs. Stewart said bluntly as she stirred a touch of cream into her coffee, "you've already lost a minute, probably while staring at my ass."

"Uh...," Marcus stammered, "I got fired today, from my job, and may not be able to pay rent if I don't find another job soon."

"How long will your savings last?" Mrs. Stewart inquired bluntly.

"Two months, I think."

"Okay, then it's not a dire emergency. We will discuss this further at the end of the day. Try not to punch me in the tit next time you want to talk to me."

"Oh, Mrs. Stewart," Marcus sputtered, completely off guard, "I am so, so, sorry about that. I didn't mean..."

Marcus cut off trying to speak as Katherine's hand raised to signal "stop."

"Your schooling is important and I promised your aunt I would help. I know your scholarships cover the tuition and books, and that you need to cover rent and living costs. You won't find a better deal than living in our maid's suite. We will discuss options later. Now, I must get back to work."

Before Marcus could say anything, Mrs. Stewart turned and headed out of the kitchen with the same determination she had come down the hall. She had one more thing to say to Marcus before the disappeared into her room.

"Don't you have a class soon, Physics 103, isn't it?"

Marcus blinked as his brain absorbed everything Mrs. Stewart had said. He was jolted into realizing that his time to get to class was becoming critically short, and he put himself on that objective. He took one look around before heading to his room to grab his books, shoes, and jacket.

Marcus was out of breath by the time he'd jogged the half-mile to campus and reached a seat in the auditorium for his physics lecture. Distracted by his interaction with Katherine, he barely heard a word that came out of the professor's mouth. After that class he had an hour-long break, during which he made himself read over the section of the physics text that he supposedly just learned about. By the time he arrived in the class for his English literature elective, Origins of Science Fiction, he was more focused and had a functional brain once again.

Katherine finished her last meeting for the day and, as Marcus was being introduced to the literary elements of Jules Verne, she opened a fresh document on her computer screen. She smiled as she mentally reviewed Marcus' earlier actions. She already knew about him being laid off since it was with a company she regularly sent contracts to. It was also not an unexpected event. Katherine had also sent a quick email to Aunt Bess, to assure her and her sister that she would look after Marcus. By the time Marcus returned, Katherine was ready.

Marcus got back to the house after walking slowly home following his last class. He entered as usual through the door beside the garage, slipped off his shoes, and proceeded to the door to his room. Reaching for the handle, he paused. The bright yellow PostIt note on the door captured his attention. In Mrs. Stewart's bold handwriting it read, "Come to my office. K.S."

Stepping quickly inside his room, Marcus passed between the storage closet and tiny galley kitchen to drop his backpack on his bed. Moving to the bathroom, he washed his hands and face and pushed his hair into a semblance of neatness before figuring it would have to do.

With a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach, Marcus rapped on Mrs. Stewart's office door.

"Come in, Marcus," her voice came through the wood six-panel door clearly.

Marcus came through the doorway in rush, already attempting to splutter another apology for his earlier actions.

Mrs. Stewart sat in her desk chair facing the door. One leg crossed over the other, her black pump dangled from her toes. With a wry grin, she held up her hand to stop Marcus in his tracks.

"Close the door," she directed, "and take a deep breath."

"Sorry, Mrs. Stewart," Marcus apologized again as he turned back from the closed door.

"Marcus, do you wish to continue staying here and attending classes?"

"Yes, Mrs. Stewart, there's no way I could afford anything else and I would have to go home if I can't afford your rent."

"Well then," Katherine said calmly, "I have promised your Aunt Bess that I would help. I know your schedule and know that you have Monday and Wednesday mornings free, also all day Friday and the weekends now that the job has disappeared. While you may continue to look for a new job, let's imagine that in the interim you will be my personal employee. I would consider developing a plan that would compensate you with rent and assist with your other expenses. Would that be an acceptable plan for you?"

"Oh! Yes! Mrs. Stewart, thank you, I couldn't imagine..."

Katherine's hand went up again to stop Marcus.

"This is not a handout. You will have duties. I have identified some, and others may follow when I have time to consider this further and speak to Mr. Stewart."

"Yes, Mrs. Stewart."

With a soft sigh, Katherine spoke.

"You don't have to address me as 'Mrs. Stewart' every time you speak, perhaps there something shorter we can use."

Marcus paused, his face exposing his momentary confusion.

"Yes... uh... ma'am?" he said quizzically.

"That will do quite nicely," Katherine replied with a broad smile that reassured Marcus he was on the right track.

"Yes, ma'am," Marcus repeated with a little more confidence.

"Very well," said Katherine as she held up a document, "I will expect at least 20 hours of your time each week, beyond that we will establish a scale for overtime compensation. As you know, our cleaning ladies are here Monday and Friday and clean everything inside the house. They will no longer clean your room and it will be one of your duties. I will ask them to instruct you in doing so to match their standard, which you will complete twice weekly as well. They will also instruct you in tidying and wiping down the kitchen which will be your task each day they do not work."

"Yes, ma'am," Marcus said quietly as he wondered if he was becoming a member of the maid service.

"Next," Katherine continued, "I expect you to sweep, wash, and otherwise clean the walkways and back patio weekly. This is to be done within two days after the yard maintenance team has done their work each week. On the weekends, I will have Mr. Stewart move our cars into the driveway and you will hand wash and dry them. He will show you what products and materials to use."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Lastly, for now, on the three weekday mornings you do not have classes, I expect you to meet me in the kitchen at 8:30 a.m. There, I will let you know if I have any further tasks for you that day."

"Yes, ma'am," Marcus said, suppressing a groan as he realized that his days of sleeping in were disappearing.

"I also expect you to maintain a fitness regime," Katherine said, "I have sent to your email a program that I would like you to start with. Our home gym downstairs is available to you when we are not using it, ensure you clean up after yourself. I have also taken the liberty of considering your meal plan. Let's face it, feeding yourself in that tiny kitchen isn't an ideal option, especially considering the contents of your fridge. Mr. Stewart and I, as you may know, often eat prepared meals prepared by our contracted chef. I will see that enough meals are available to stock your fridge as well. Enjoy your few remaining snacks of junk food, they will not be restocked. Instead, you should enjoy the meal options I choose for us."

"Yes, ma'am," Marcus said, his voice almost on autopilot as he tried to absorb all the details of Mrs. Stewart's instructions.

With a tight smile, Katherine looked at the young man.

"Here," she said holding out the document, "This is a summary of what I've told you. You will also find a fitness wristband on your bed. I expect at least ten thousand steps per day. I will be monitoring that, and will let you know if you fall short."

"Thank you, ma'am," Marcus said softly.

"That is all for now Marcus," Katherine said and added as he reached the door, "I am sure we will work this out to our mutual benefit. Be a good boy, and we'll be fine."

"Yes ma'am, thank you," Marcus said as he slipped through the doorway and gently pulled it closed behind him.

Closing the door to the maid's suite, Marcus looked around and wondered what he'd gotten himself into. He sighed softly as he thought that at least the little set of rooms wasn't so large that cleaning it would be a dreaded chore. Picking up the wristband from the bed he turned it over in his hand. Holding it, he flopped back on the bed and realized for the first time that his cock was as hard as he could ever remember it.

"Fuck," he thought to himself, "was I this hard the whole time I was in her office?"

Marcus had often spoken with Mrs. Stewart. He knew she was direct, he knew she had an imposing presence, and he knew that there were many nights he'd covered his hands and stomach in fresh cum thinking about her tits and ass. But he'd never spent time like that under her very focused attention and the influence of her control. And it had left him as horny as he had ever been.

Marcus moaned softly as he released his throbbing cock. At a little under six inches, he knew he wasn't huge but also, according to the internet, not small either. He stroked steadily as he pictured Katherine in her skirt and blouse with the leather bustier.

He moaned as his cum spurted all over the front of his shirt, "Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Stewart."

Katherine racked her shoes in her closet, peeled off the leather bustier, and unbuttoned her blouse to let the tails of the blouse hang freely outside her skirt. Padding out to the kitchen in stocking feet she smiled as she saw that Charles Stewart was waiting for her with two glasses of wine.

"Thank you, my dear," she said as she took a glass and turned to choose a place to sit.

Sitting in the corner of one large leather sofa, Katherine drew her legs up to fold them to one side. With a soft smile, she absentmindedly slid her right hand under her open blouse to gently massage her breast where Marcus' knuckles had made contact.

"Is everything okay?" her husband as asked he sat across from her, "And how was your day?"

Katherine withdrew her hand and smiled.

"Everything is fine, I closed the deal for the clean-up of that warehouse fire, and Marcus lost his job."

"Did you...?" Charles began.

"Of course I did," Katherine said with a smirk, "I promised Bess I would look after him and I thought if he had more time around here I could help keep him focused on his studies."

"You do realize that his young dick will be a tripping hazard if he spends any more time around your tits and ass, right?"

"Why thank you, dear, I will take that as a compliment," Katherine purred, "and as for young Marcus' dick, I will deal with that in my own way."

Charles laughed.

"Of that, I have no doubt. Speaking of Bess, has she any plans to visit?"

"Perhaps that can be arranged," Katherine said with a wink, "if you promise to behave yourself."

With knowing grins, the Stewarts raised their glasses in a shared toast to future plans.

The next few weeks were a period of transition for Marcus. He quickly fell into balancing classes, homework, and the tasks set out by Mrs. Stewart. The change to his diet was a bit of a hurdle, breaking bad habits of snacking and inefficient meals for the prepared dishes provided by the Stewarts' chef. He did still cheat between classes for the occasional illicit snack but rationalized that he was probably burning that off on his walks home.

Marcus did find that his morning meetings with Katherine always left him with a throbbing erection. Even when he stroked himself to orgasm before the meeting he still needed to do it again soon after. Seeing her around the house at any time and through the weekends also often drove him to seek a few minutes of privacy to beat off.

He discovered a similar dilemma with the cleaning ladies. Sofia, and her daughter Isabella who was about Marcus' age, were a pair of pretty Latina ladies who could readily pass as sisters. Curvy and quick to laughter, they were efficient, committed to their tasks, and well worth whatever the Stewarts were paying them. Marcus stood quietly to one side as he listened to Mrs. Stewart inform them of his new duties and requested their help in training and supervising him. They were assured that their payment would not be decreased, and would include a bonus for the extra work of supervision and inspection of Marcus' rooms. If there were any complaints about Marcus' work, they were to come to her directly. Sofia giggled as she accepted the task and then led him through all the steps he needed to know for the kitchen before Isabella led him to his room for more instruction.

Until they were teaching him to clean, Marcus had politely stayed out of the way whenever Sofia and Isabella were at the house. In the close confines of his suite and following Isabella's direction, he fought the erotic distraction of her beauty and the soft accented sounds of her voice. He noted again that their chosen uniform was a lightweight black top that hugged their curves and black tights. By the time Isabella left him to finish cleaning his bathroom on his own, after promising to return and check his work, Marcus was doing his best to hide a straining erection.