One for Two

One For Two

My Mistress and I have been together for over two years. We live in my spacious and lovely two bedroom condo in Midtown, which she now calls her own. And in this she is absolutely right. I'm a well-known fashion photographer with my own very successful company and agency. I have a large list of models I select from for the wide variety of shoots and projects for which I am contracted.

She is not one of the classic beauties always on the top of that list, who have achieved fame and riches from the very high level projects that I, among others, procure for them. But her winsome, girl next door looks, and my connections, keep her in steady, if less lucrative work. Compared to all of them however, to me, she is perfection personified. Tall, lean, and lithe, with long brown hair that falls below her shoulder blades, which can be tied up into a playful ponytail, or braided into pigtails, that helps to accentuate the appearance for the types of commercial jobs which I am able to help keep her consistently employed.

Constantly surrounded by the wide array of beauty intrinsic in my field, I have ample opportunity to take intimate advantage that my position in the hierarchy of my line of work affords me. But my professional ethos, and particular nature, has helped me to maintain the appropriate personal distance from all that, bolstering my reputation, and has led me to be well-liked and respected as one of the best in my business.

But before my Mistress I am helpless. I would, and did, do everything in my power to help propel her career forward, without ever taking any credit. I tried to do anything that I thought she might want or like, but in her presence I am paralyzed to act in any other way. I had certainly fallen very deeply in love with her, but for me it was so much more. I adored her and worshiped the ground that she walked on, and these aspects along with my inner nature, consumed me. At first, she didn't respond to the more exotic elements of this, but I was relentless in my veneration, and over time she began to accept, then enjoy, and finally to embrace, demand, and enforce it all, which enthralled me all the more. She came to recognize all the advantages, and took control of them all to her own specifications, and I had no choice, even if I had ever wanted one, but to adhere.

We continued our daily workday activities, both of us remaining dedicated and diligent in pursuing our careers. But it was at home every night where we have come to live our real lives... She, as the unquestioned Mistress of the House... and me, as her devoted and full-service houseboy. In actuality, in every real and imagined way, I am her slave, but she prefers to refer to me as a houseboy, and at home, even though at 39 I am 12 years her senior, she only ever calls me 'boy'.

My duties as houseboy begin of course with being responsible for all of the household chores, always performed to her exacting standards. They also include more personal services, such as foot and body massages, manicures and pedicures, and many aspects in the care of her personal hygiene. She makes frequent and exuberant use of my lips, my tongue, and my fingers and hands in intimate activities that send her to exhilarating heights. But she never makes use of what she refers to as my 'boy thing'. To do that would imply that I might want, and get pleasure beyond that of giving it all to her. And in this she is absolutely right again. My greatest joy and desires come in providing her own to her.

My Mistress is bisexual. But I have come to know that she is far more enamored with the female side of the equation. She has mentioned to me that since we've been together, she has had no contact with any other male. This is likely to remain so, she has said, smiling serenely, as long as I behave and continue to cater to her every wish and whim. I have no doubt however, that on the many evenings that she goes out by herself to party, leaving me home alone with my chores, that she enjoys a variety of female engagements. No matter how late it might be though, she always comes home at night to me, waiting to care and cater to any further needs or desires she may have.

For a long while she seemed quite comfortable, and I was enraptured with our arrangement. We both worked hard at our day jobs, and then would come home where she would settle back, and I would work even harder, to my utmost, to make her happy. But for me it was anything but work. Here, I wasn't just taking photos to sell other people's fantasies. I was living my own. And if being her 'boy' was even the smallest part of her own, it was more than worthwhile for me. It justified my existence. If she was happy, I was so much more than that. And I would do anything for her to keep it so.

About six months ago though, I started to sense a touch of melancholy in her, as if something wasn't right, that something was missing. I had been never sure of her actual feelings for me. She may have been content to have me take care of all her everyday wants and needs, to cater to her every whim, but I began to worry that she might have little other regard for me. And I suddenly realized that I yearned for so much more. I wanted her to want me, to cherish me, for all that I could be for her. But as we had evolved, had I forfeited any right to aspire or even hope for any of that? I began to fear that while she might appreciate all the benefits of my service and devotion, she may actually see me as simply a simp, and personally nothing more than pathetic. I do understand what I am. And if I tried to be something I'm not, would I be viewed with even more disdain? Even by myself? I truly despaired that she might be losing whatever interest she ever had in me... and of this lifestyle. That it wasn't enough. That she needed so much more. If true, I didn't know how I would survive.

Then, around three months ago, the bounce in her step returned, as did the sparkle in her eyes, and her joie de vivre has been growing ever since. I was ecstatic. Could it have something to do with me? I could only pray. She did seem much more excited with my pampering when she would return home from partying, and increasingly exhilarated as she had me lavish her with my fingers and tongue. I couldn't help that my forbidden hopes again began to blossom.

But earlier this week, she told me that she wanted our place, which I always meticulously maintained, to be spotless, and then I was to prepare my very best meal. She was having a special guest over for dinner, and, she added, as if to herself, hopefully for much more.

To say that I was apprehensive, no, downright deflated and nervous, would be an understatement. But I had no choice. I had my orders. On Saturday morning I scrubbed and cleaned until the place was pristine. In the early afternoon I began to prepare the multicourse meal. By late afternoon I went to help her prepare herself for her guest. I aided with her bath, using the loofah in areas she couldn't reach, and in areas that she didn't want to reach. I conditioned and washed her hair. After I dried her when she exited the sunken tub, I shaved her legs, and other more personal areas. I then blew dry, combed out, and brushed her hair, before repainting her finger and toenails in her favorite hue. She was now ready to shimmy into her formfitting little black dress which adorns her figure so alluringly.

Most nights at home I wear a simple T shirt with cutoff shorts and running shoes. At times though, for her enjoyment, my Mistress likes me in what she calls my formal houseboy uniform, which consists of being barefoot, with a bright red thong, covered in front by a pink waist apron. She informed me that that was to be my attire for this night. When the doorbell rang at 7 o'clock, she told me to stand still in the middle of the living room while she rushed off, giddy, to greet her guest at the door.

"Stella, I'm so happy that you've finally come, and are here." I heard my Mistress enthuse, unseen, in the entrance hallway.

"How could I refuse the promise of such a wonderful dinner, baby girl" was her guest's response.

"I hope you're considering everything else"

"All in good time, baby girl. We both have a lot to consider tonight."

"Well, I have a surprise for you that I hope will be even more of an inducement"

"Ooh, I love surprises, baby girl" she laughed.

"Let's go inside then"

They both came into view entering the living room from the hallway. The guest stopped immediately. Appearing to be in her early to mid 30s, she had short cropped dark hair, and stood about an inch shorter than my Mistress, but was much more curvaceous and buxom, although not overly large in any one area. She wore a stylish burgundy colored blouse, with dark hip hugging slacks that tapered down to just above her black ankle boots. But what was most arresting about her was the captivating confidence she exuded.

"What is a nearly naked man doing standing in your living room, baby girl?"

"Well, he's not actually a man"

"Then what, do tell, Is he?"

"He's my houseboy" she proclaimed proudly.

"I would suspect that a houseboy who is nearly naked is something much more than that"

"You're right, of course. I guess he's much more of a... a..."

"... Slave?" her guest suggested.

"Yes, I guess you might say that"

"Very interesting"

"He's also your surprise"

The guest raised her eyebrows. "Even more interesting." She took a moment. "Why don't we sit down so you can tell me more about your 'houseboy'"

"Yes, let's. And have some drinks too. I had boy go out to buy your favorite single malt." She looked toward me. "Boy, this is Stella, Miss Stella to you. Go bring a glass of her special scotch"

"Neat" interjected Miss Stella.

"Yes, and a glass of Prosecco for me."

"Right away. Mistress"

I hurried to fill the orders, and quickly returned. Miss Stella was sitting comfortably on the couch, and my Mistress was perched on the edge diagonally next to her. I presented them with their libations, and then moved off to the side to stand, unobtrusively, to be readily available for any further needs.

"So, baby girl, tell me more about what this houseboy does" Miss Stella began.

"Well, all of the housework, of course,"

"Naturally" Miss Stella concurred.

"And also much of my personal care. His foot and body massages are to die for, and his mani-pedi's are better than any salon."

"And what about more intimate activities?" Miss Stella inquired. "I know that you're bi, baby girl, so I'm sure it's hard not to take advantage"

My Mistress smiled. "I do frequently make delightful use of his tongue and fingers" she agreed. "But never his 'boy thing''' she went on to insist.

"Why not?" Miss Stella asked. "Doesn't he deserve some pleasure for all that he does?"

"His pleasures come solely from providing mine"

We both could see Miss Stella frown a bit at that, and my Mistress pressed on to offer some further explanation.

"I do take care of his physiologic health, of course, every month or so. But always by him with his own hand, and in a way which also offers me some amusement." She started to grin. "I often do like though to have him bring himself to the brink and then order him to stop. I find that a case of blue balls makes him far more fervent in his service." Her grin grew wider. "And sometimes, I let him go just over the brink and then slap his hand away so that he just dribbles and slowly oozes out without any further stimulation, which ruins any of his enjoyment. That can be quite a rush."

"But why would you do that to him?"

"Because I can. And he knows and cherishes that it gives me a thrill."

"But it still sounds rather cruel, baby girl"

"Oh, I never want to be cruel, Stella. But I do occasionally like to be a little mean, and boy serves that purpose admirably for me as well"

It was more than a little disconcerting, and obviously very humiliating, to be so openly and objectively discussed while being otherwise ignored. But this was not for my benefit. It was only for theirs, my Mistress proudly describing her position, inspiring her guest's genuine interest, and my presence wasn't necessary, acknowledged, or even needed in any way except as I might be required by them for some other duty. Still, my boy thing swelled and strained against my thong, and if either of them had ever deigned to glance over at me, they undoubtedly would have seen a large bulge pushing out from the front of my apron.

Miss Stella finally sighed. "I must admit that all this talk has certainly increased my appetite." she announced.

"Of course, Stella, yes, it's time for dinner" my Mistress agreed. "Boy, go get things ready and we'll be right in"

"Yes, Mistress," and I rushed off into the kitchen to prepare the first course for serving. When I heard them enter the dining room, I hastened in to seat them both. Miss Stella had an almost bemused smile, and my Mistress, it seemed, an anxious one. I worried then that she was afraid that the dinner might be found wanting, which did little for my nerves. I brought in the appetizer of a medley of freshly sliced fruits, drizzled with brandy. This was followed by a salad of mixed greens with cut scallions, cherry tomatoes, pitted Kalamata olives, avocado, candied pecans and crumbled feta cheese, dressed with a raspberry vinaigrette. When I served the main course of Veal Milanese with roasted russet potatoes and Parmesan coated grilled asparagus, as I turned away from Miss Stella, she gave me a crisp smack on one of my bare buttock cheeks.

"I do also love having some hot buns along with my dinner" she chuckled. My Mistress laughed, which did seem to relieve some of her tension.

After the desert of black forest cake with a scoop of mocha gelato, Miss Stella sat back and offered, "That was really a fabulous feast, baby girl"

"I'm so glad that you liked it. Boy has been working hard on his culinary talents. We have much simpler fair during the week, of course, but he always seems to be able to rustle up something delicious."

"There seems to be no end to his efforts. You're quite the lucky one"

"I hope to be even more so soon, Stella"

"We'll see, baby girl, we'll see"

"Why don't we go back into the living room and relax" my Mistress suggested. "And boy can bring us in some after dinner drinks"

"That sounds delightful. Lead the way"

I quickly filled their drink orders, and served them. They both now were cozily sitting on the couch.

"Do you mind if I take off my shoes to be more comfortable, baby girl?" Miss Stella asked.

"Of course, Stella. Boy, come over here and take off Miss Stella's boots"

I rapidly scurried to my knees before her, and began to remove the first one.

"You really do seem to have him very well trained, baby girl"

"Thank you. He knows his place."

"It does seem so."

After I removed both boots and nylon peds, and carefully set them aside, my Mistress added, "Now show Miss Stella the proper respect"

I understood. I bowed down to the floor, and lightly kissed the tops of both of her feet.

"Oh my goodness. I've never had my feet kissed before. I really do quite like it" she openly enthused. "I'd really love some more of that"

"Yes, of course, by all means, Stella." my Mistress hurriedly concurred. "Boy," she ordered sharply, "Worship."

I knew what was required of me. My Mistress not infrequently had me perform such obeisance with her, to have me show and know my proper place. I always prayed though that it was so much more than that for her. For me, it was not a duty. It was a sublime reward. To allow me to devoutly demonstrate my devotion in such a profound and appropriate way. I do believe she knew this to be true. It would not be quite the same for me though with Miss Stella. But that it was offered and commanded by my Mistress made it fully right and proper.

Without any further hesitation, I lifted one of Miss Stella's feet into my hands and brought my lips to her heel. I then had them slowly traverse up the bottom, through the valley of her arch, up over the ball, to the bottoms of her toes. I extended my tongue out and ran it across the bottoms of all five, and then back across the tops, stopping it times to wriggle my tip between several of them.

"Ooh, that's so lovely" she cooed.

I continued to lavish my attention to her toes, when she brought her other foot up and pushed the first one away. I began my oral adoration to that one as well as she began to rub the first one against the side of my face, then up and twirling it into my hair. At the same time, she pushed the big toe of her second foot through my lips into my mouth. I could now savor the full tangy taste of her toes. I sucked and swirled with increasing zeal, bringing others, and finally all of her toes within. I could hear her practically purring above. But she suddenly pulled her feet away from my mouth and my hair, and stood up.

"I think it's time you showed me the bedroom, baby girl"

My Mistress almost leapt off the couch. "Of course, Stella" and began to lead her that way. When they were halfway across the room, Miss Stella turned her head back toward me.

"Follow along, boy"

My Mistress looked at her quizzically.

"I'm sure he will have his uses" Miss Stella answered her unasked question.

"Anything you wish, Stella"

"Yes, indeed."

They entered the bedroom with me behind. Miss Stella walked up to the edge of the king-sized bed.

"Undress me, baby girl"

She did so eagerly and within minutes Miss Stella stood before us in her magnificent nudity.

"Now undress your mistress, boy. And lose that apron and thong as well"

With tremulous fingers I helped my Mistress out of her dress, and with even greater edge her bra and panties. Soon we all stood naked to the core. Miss Stella then lay down prone on the bed and raised her bottom and up into the air.

"Get me started, baby girl"

Taking only seconds to consider something she had apparently never done before, but perhaps had dreamed of, my Mistress climbed up onto the bed and began to plant tender kisses around Miss Stella's luscious backside cheeks. A slight wiggle urged her to bring her tongue to the crease, and with her hands she opened it up and began to lovingly rim between.

"My rosebud, baby girl, my rosebud"

"Ooh, that feels so good" Miss Stella murmured as my Mistress complied. "Now push it through. That's right, baby girl. Yes. Now further" she crooned. After more than a minute, she cried out.

"Boy, get that tongue of yours into the ass of your mistress as deeply as hers is into mine"

I was only charged to take such orders from my Mistress, but a wiggle from her own enchanting derrière, and her muffled consent, drove me forward. I spread her cheeks apart and extended my tongue within. I advanced enough to thoroughly lubricate, then probed my stiffened tip through her anal ring. With further effort I forced it in more.

"Swirl that tongue around" Miss Stella extolled. I wasn't sure to which of us that edict was directed, but my Mistress and I both vigorously obeyed. Her head began to undulate forward and back, in and out, as if trying to delve in even further, and I tried to match her efforts. Miss Stella abruptly rolled over onto her back and spread her legs.

"Get that luscious tongue of yours into my sopping snatch, baby girl." She panted. "And boy, lie on your back so your Mistress can plant her own cunny right onto your hungry mouth"

We both scrambled to do is we were bid. Soon my Mistress, straddling me, settled back onto the cushion of my lips as she herself attended to Miss Stella. Her buried face bobbed up and down above as she rode my extended tongue below, both with increasing frenzy. I made every effort to reach every fold and recess, before curling back to attend to her hidden treasure. As I did, I reached up and inserted one, and then a second finger into her previously laved and wet nether hole. She surged forward as it spurred even more furious action with her own tongue.