Cumming of Age

We ran past a clearing on our right, the sounds of children playing drifted over the breeze. She stopped, frozen in place, forcing me to come up short.

"Please, Sir!" She hissed. "Let me get dressed – at least let me put a shirt on!"

I looked around to see where the voices were coming from and saw a family far across the clearing tossing a Frisbee.

"Keep going and stop this nonsense! They can't see you behind these bushes. Let's go." I pushed her lightly on the shoulder and started off.

She moaned and started after me, passing me again as the path took us off to the left.

At the two mile mark I stopped her again. I was not prepared to run more than five miles that day, but I didn't know her usual routine.

"How long do you run for?" I was panting a little.

"I need to get 10 miles in each day. Please let me get dressed! Sir!" She whispered her demand, hoping to soften the tone. Still no safe word, though. She must be really loving it.

"10, eh? Hmmm. That's too much for me. I'm going to go another ½ mile or so, and then I'm turning back. I'll leave your clothes here and you can pick them up on your return." I bundled them into a ball and hid them under a bush. There was an orange ribbon lying nearby. I tied it on a branch above the bundle.

"Sir. Pleeasse. Please don't do this. What if we get caught?" She was begging me with her body and her voice.

"You know what you can do, Robbie. You obviously are enjoying this or you would have put a stop to it before we started." I walked over to her and held her arm with one hand, letting my fingers drift between her legs. As I had imagined, she was wet. She moaned as my fingers rubbed over her clit. "Thought so. Let's go."

I left her again, and continued down the path, putting as much distance between us as I could. Moments later she was next to me, and then slightly ahead, giving me a beautiful view of her tight ass as she ran.

We ran like that until it was time for me to go back. "I'll see you back at the neighborhood," I called after her and turned around.

It isn't easy to run with a hard-on – I was a little concerned someone would see me, although why I had a hard-on would have been difficult for someone to imagine – I was either really well endowed or even more of a perv than I already was. The memory of her naked body distracted me all the way back to my house, where I stripped off my clothes and took a hot shower. Toweling off, I looked down on the street and saw her running back, fully clothed. She couldn't see me, but that didn't stop her from flipping her finger at me as she passed the house. I smiled at the gesture and dressed for dinner.

That night I decided to give her folks a call and propose the idea.

"Phyl?" I silently hoped it was Robbie. "Hey! It's Phil." We both laughed. It was always the same joke between us. "You guys settling back in?" We made small talk and then I got to the point. "You know, Phyl, I was wondering. Do you think Robbie might be interested in doing some filing and possibly some light housework?"

There was silence for a heartbeat and I thought I'd crossed some line, and then she started giggling.

"I'm sorry, Phil. I just couldn't begin to imagine Robbie doing housework! Have you seen her room?" She went on for a few more thoughts and settled down. "You need someone to do cleaning? I have a great gal we've used for years. She's very reasonable and reliable."

"Oh, hmmm....well, maybe. I think I've met her, haven't I? The last time I...we...thought about it, she told...us she needed several hours a week. I don't think I can commit to that...I was just thinking Robbie could probably use a little cash. Well, okay. If you think it's a stupid idea, I'll think of something else."

"It's okay, Phil. There's no harm in asking. Did you want to talk to her, or I could ask at dinner tonight and see if she's interested."

"You do it. If she doesn't want to, no harm – you can let me know. If she sounds interested, have her call me to discuss terms."

* - * - * - *

Two weeks later she knocked on my door. Cleaning equipment in one hand, dressed in her sweats. 2PM, right after school. She looked horny, her eyes dropped immediately to my crotch and she practically squirmed to get into the house.

I didn't say anything, and by my silence I made it obvious she wasn't to talk either. I motioned her upstairs and followed behind her. My cock was already hard but I wanted to make this last as long as possible.

I pointed her to the front bedroom – the one we used to use for guests. It had a layer of dust on every surface; I hadn't been in it for at least a year. I walked to the windows and drew the curtain lining across. The light was diffuse and kept nosy eyes from seeing in.

"Strip. You can hang your clothes in the closet. You'll start in here – I need the entire room dusted, vacuumed and straightened. When you're done, you can call me on that intercom. I'll be in the basement. Try and ignore the camera."

There were actually two cameras – one was obvious – on a tripod at the side of the closet door. The other was buried behind a wall sconce – not something she'd see right away. I watched her peel her clothes off – so free and easy, her breasts swinging clear and her triangle so neatly trimmed. But those legs – those long luscious legs starting from that quim and ending in those ankles. She reached for the hanger and I stared at her muscles moving from her shoulders down to her ass. As she looked over her shoulder at me, I turned, before she could see how hard I'd gotten.

I knew she was confused. When I said I needed a personal assistant, I meant it. I hadn't had a housekeeper since Mary and the kids had ...left... and I couldn't stand looking at the furniture to clean it. I figured it would take her about 30 minutes to get the room into shape. I left her to it and returned to my nest in the basement.

The two cameras fed into a single large screen monitor, split between the two views. She tried to avoid looking at the camera but I knew it was impossible. She turned from it, worried about what I was going to do with it. She needn't worry. By the time I was finished editing it, she wouldn't be recognizable by her own parents. I watched her move through the room, bending over to plug in the vacuum, changing the attachments. As she pushed the machine around the room, I followed her with the hidden lens, zooming in on her waist, framing her beaver. The other camera stayed in a long shot, her whole body backlit by the windows.

When she finished vacuuming she picked up dust cloths and wiped down every surface. As she reached up, her body stretched, her breasts pulled up and out, her legs opened wide. It was all I could do to not pull my cock out and stroke it...but I knew that was her job. I let the scene play out, checking in on it over the next several minutes while I focused on a more immediate, paying job. When I saw she had pretty much finished and was just staring around the room, I waited for her call.

"I'm finished, Sir." She tried to stare somewhere else than the camera, but she was sweet enough to stand facing it. I decided, right in that moment, as she was struggling to offer me her body but not her complete submission, I needed to hear her begging me. Today, her first day on the job, she would leave in tears. Not because I had raped her, but because I had refused to give her what she would be begging for.

"Did you get under the bureau, Robbie?" I knew she hadn't.

She paused and looked at the floor beneath the freestanding drawers. It wasn't possible to vacuum under it without moving it. "No, Sir. I'll need some help moving it."

"How about under the bed? Did you vacuum or dust under there?" I watched her turn and zoomed in on her face; she bit her lower lip, worried.

"No, Sir. I couldn't get to it with the vacuum."

"Please finish the job, Robbie. I have work to do down here, and I can't be baby-sitting you. You are grown up girl – you know how to clean, right? No excuses. I expect a proper job." I hung up and sat back to watch.

I didn't think I'd been too tough on her, but I could see her blink back tears – whether from the dust, anger or embarrassment, I couldn't tell. She picked up the vacuum nozzle and walked back to the drawers, her gorgeous legs pure poetry in motion. I studied her as she set her hands against the bureau, her legs bracing against the wall, the muscles in her ass tightening. She walked one side and then the other away from the wall, revealing a treasure-trove of dust bunnies and bits of paper blown over time. A few minutes later, after she had vacuumed, she looked around to see how she was going to push it back. I could see sweat dripping from her shoulders and underarms – it was warm up there and she was working hard. She wiped her forehead and tried to figure out an angle to leverage the bureau back.

Each time she tried something, her feet would slip. I studied her breasts, swinging free, the frustration on her face and the small panic she seemed to be feeling. I hadn't suggested any punishment, but she must have figured there would be something; or maybe it was my displeasure she was trying to avoid. Whatever it was she was trying to show me her best. She was sure showing me the best body I'd seen in a long time. I pulled out my cock, it had become bent over in my trousers.

Finally she figured out how to get her feet against the base of the bed and stretched her body forward, inching the thing back. I guess it never occurred to her to empty the drawers out and move it that way. I would have loved to see her stretch her arms around and press the drawers against her breasts. But alas, as smart as some people are, they don't have a lot of common sense.

The bed wasn't going to be as easy. In this case, she couldn't move it at all. Instead, she realized, she was going to have get down on all fours and push the nozzle under it. I panned the tripod mounted camera down, framing her at a ¾ angle. From that perspective, I could see her breasts peeking out from her arms as she stretched the nozzle in and out, but mostly I watched her ass lifted up into the air, her brown hole visible and her cleft, its neat strands of pubic hair just barely illuminated by the light from the window.

When she got up to go to the other side, there was a support underneath she couldn't get around, she was covered in grime, the dust mixing with the sweat on her breasts, ribs and legs. I knew she was feeling small, a little overwhelmed and had forgotten to worry about the camera. Puffing her hair out of her face, wiping more dirt across her forehead, she moved to the other side of the bed, now clearly in view of the hidden lens.

I followed her down, panning as she lowered herself onto her hands and knees and zoomed in on her ass. As she reached under the bed she spread her legs to keep her balance, exposing her cunt. I loved this shot. As she reached a little further, her knees slipped on the hardwood floor and she put her arms down to steady herself. In this position she was spread wide open, her legs forming a triangle with the floor, her head almost down on the ground. I zoomed in to frame her open pussy, trying to match her movements as she got back up.

A few minutes later and she called me again.

"I've cleaned under the bed, Sir. And behind the bureau. Thank you for letting me know how much dust there was there. I'm sorry I didn't catch it the first time. Is there something else I need to pay attention to?" She was looking around, wiping the sweat and grime from her face and arms with a clean cloth.

I just stared at this incredible beauty – she could have been a model if she had ambitions in that direction. Her body was like a living sculpture. I realized she was waiting for an answer and pulled myself back to this reality.

"The T.V., Robbie. Did you clean all around and under the equipment?"

She looked up at the small entertainment center across the room. I knew she had dusted the surfaces of the equipment, but she hadn't moved any of it to get to the shelves beneath the equipment.

"Thank you, Sir. I did wipe the equipment, but I see I missed beneath it."

She grabbed a cloth and walked to the center. From this angle, both cameras caught her profile. As she strained to move the T.V., I zoomed in on her ass cheeks, watching them tense and move.

I had a thought and rang her up.

"Robbie?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"I think you are close to being done. There's something I need you to do for me though."

She looked at the intercom, playing with the grating. "Yes, Sir?"

"I need you to take the brush attachment for the vacuum..."

"Yes, Sir." She turned and did as I instructed.

"Put it on the tube...yes...good girl. Now pull it over and face the camera. Ummm hmmm. A little to the left. That's it." She knew where I was heading and was shaking her head, pleading with me on the camera. "That's it, Robbie. You got it. Yep. Sit down on the vacuum...umm hmm...yes, that's right, spread your legs wide open so I can see your muff. Are you turned on?"

She maneuvered the vacuum around so that the nozzle and brush were pointing at the top of her legs and looked up at the camera. Her eyes showed her internal struggle, but her hands didn't stop. "Yes, Sir."

"Did you masturbate since I saw you last?" I waited for an answer to the simple question.

She hesitated. "Yes Sir."

"Did you cum?"

She nodded.

"I didn't hear you, Robbie. Did you cum?"

"Yes Sir." She was holding the tube and looking down at herself, knowing where this would lead. "At least, as much as I ever do...."

"What did you fantasize about?"

"Sir...please...I..." She stopped, knowing it was stupid to protest. It was what she had signed up for. "I could only think about one thing, Sir. Sucking your cock in my basement. The way you forced me to use just my mouth. How you stripped me of everything. I was seeing myself over and over again sucking you and then tasting your cum." She closed her eyes, the brush moved unconsciously down to between her legs. The prickling of the boar's hairs snapped her out of it. "And..."

"And?"

"And the spanking, Sir." She said almost too quietly to catch.

"What?"

"The spanking, Sir. My ass was so tender I couldn't forget it for a week. Every time I sat down, I thanked you sir. I've never felt so horny. My muff was wet this entire time...." She realized she was confessing to a camera and stopped.

"You'd like to suck my cock again?"

"Yes Sir" She said it with a different tone – expectant and needy. "I want to please you, Sir. To make you cum so I can swallow it."

"You're just hoping to taste me again, isn't that it Robbie? You don't really like to suck cock as much as drink boys' cum, isn't that right?"

She looked confused and a little hurt. She shook her head. "No, Sir. No. I truly want to feel your hard hot cock sliding into my mouth. I love to run my tongue over your shaft, to lick your balls and feel the crinkly skin of your sac on my lips. I truly want to do that for you, Sir."

"Well, we'll see. You kind of blew it today, you know." She slumped a little, knowing there was some kind of punishment coming. "I'm not convinced you really deserve to have my cock in your mouth, let alone have a chance to drink my cum. Why don't you show me how you play with yourself as you imagine me fucking your throat." I clicked off the intercom and went back to work, trying to ignore the pleas of my stiff prick staring up at me.

She reached over and turned on the vacuum, her breasts shaking a little with the vibration. She stared into the camera as she put the brush against her twat, the cool air rushing against her lips sending a shiver up her spine. I knew she would have to push against her clit hard with the brush to get any feelings from it at all, the boar's hair bristles pricking her sensitive skin. And the dirt. I could just imagine how slimy she would be from rubbing the tips of the brush against her split open slit.

As I expected, she couldn't get satisfaction unless she bore down on the brush. I watched as she pushed it against herself, her slit oozing, the bristles working against her clit. I couldn't hear anything over the vacuum, but her mouth dropped open and I imagined she had let out a small moan or cry. She kept at it, rubbing it against her pubic hair, up her belly to her nipples and back again. My cock was rock hard and vibrating, waiting impatiently for her to finish. And then she stiffened a little, the brush pushed hard against her crotch, her eyes teared up and she held it against herself until, finally, she closed her eyes and stopped. She sat there, stiff and quiet, the vacuum's vibrations visible in the shaking of those beautiful breasts. She reached down and turned off the machine.

"Did you cum, Robbie?"

She shook her head. "No Sir. I don't think I did."

"Why did you stop?"

"It's as far as I ever get, Sir. You told me to show you how I play with myself." She smiled a little crookedly. "I definitely don't use this." She spread her hands to underscore her point.

"No?" I thought for a second. "What do you use?"

She blushed, putting the brush and nozzle down. "I have a vibrator."

"So. Are you still interested in giving me head?"

She perked up, her eyes glinting in the camera. "Yes, Sir! Please. Let me show you how good I can be. I want to learn to do it even better. Sir?" She hesitated. "You told me you could help me learn to be better at sucking cocks. Is there something you could teach me today?"

Looking down at the state of my erection, I didn't think I could teach her anything of value. I'd come the minute she put her lips on my head. Of course getting me hard again would be something of a challenge – perhaps the perfect project for today.

"Straighten up the cleaning supplies. I'll come up."

I shoved my cock into my pants as best I could and made my way up the first set of stairs. As I passed through the kitchen I had a brilliant idea. Even though my cock had settled down a little, it would be less than a minute before I shot my load. I didn't want to reward her that way so quickly. Sometimes a guy just gets a little inspiration when he puts a little thought into things. I grabbed a shot glass on my way out of the room and headed up to see her.

She was sitting on the vacuum, the supplies neatly arranged around her, her skin streaked with dust and grime.

"You are a mess." I opened the closet door to show her in the full length mirror. She winced and turned away.

"No. Don't look away. You are beautiful. You are completely stripped naked, and you have agreed to be my toy for the next several months. Take a long look at yourself and see what a whore looks like."

She winced again and looked up at herself, spread open, her hair a mess, her cunt exposed through a mat of auburn hair. "I'm not a whore, Sir. You forced me to do this." She said it quietly, with some venom.

Nice to strike a nerve now and then. "That'll be enough of that, Robbie. I didn't force you to do anything and this will be the last time I hear you even suggest it. You know what you have at stake. I've done enough to confirm your story's true. You agreed, fair and square: this was far easier to imagine than losing your financial future. You are a whore, Robbie. This is what a prostitute does: she offers her body, sex, for money. It's just that you've whored yourself to your own self. It's kind of interesting when you think about it. Now, please apologize for being such a stupid twit and I'll ignore it."

She swallowed her pride; she swallowed. I watched her throat move. So goddamn fucking beautiful. My cock twitched.

"I've been an idiot, Sir. I can't believe I even thought such a stupid thing." She sounded sincere again. I watched her stare at herself, a wave of anger passing through her eyes, but not at me...directed at her. "I am worthless and I am so sorry for suggesting I wasn't a stupid little slut. Please let me make it up to you, Sir. Teach me something I can learn to be a better slut."