Servant Day Pt. 04

Once he'd rinsed away the trimmed hair, shaved his face, showered, washed his hair and cleaned his teeth, it was almost six o'clock. Returning to the bedroom, he was now no longer surprised to find that his wife had left several more things for him on the bed: his deodorant spray can, with a post-it note saying "DON'T USE THIS"; a new bottle of cologne, with another note saying "USE THIS;" a pair of black, stretchy trunks, in some smooth, elasticated material, and a fake bow-tie, ready-made, on an adjustable strap. Apparently, this was his outfit for the evening -- a cut-price Chippendales stripper. Towelling off, he splashed on the cologne. It had hints of jasmine, citrus and cinnamon, and smelled exotic to him. He pulled on the trunks, and fiddled with the bow-tie strap until it fit comfortably around his neck without drooping.

It was already just past six o'clock. -- time to see what was in store for him downstairs.

***

His wife was waiting for him in the living room, sitting on the sofa in her jeans and t-shirt, sipping a cup of tea. She put the cup down on the coffee table as he entered, and smiled.

"Well, now," she said. She stood and came over to him. "Let's have a look at you. Oh, very nice. Turn around so that I can see the back. Oh, yes, you will definitely do. You have a great arse and those show it off to perfection." She ran her hands down his back, grabbing a double-handful of buttock, and then slid her hands around him to his front, to caress him there. "Just checking the fit," she said wickedly, a sparkle in her eyes. He could feel himself growing at her touch.

"Okay," she said, clapping her hands, "here's the plan. I want you to prepare this room as if we were having guests over tonight." The room in question was their living room, but it was more a living-room/diner combination. At one end, where the windows looked out onto the front of the property, they had the living room space, with sofas, coffee table, TV, and a drinks cabinet. There was also the doorway to the hall. At the back of the room, they had a dining table with four chairs, and the doorway through to the kitchen. "So that means tidying, putting away anything that should not be out, then dusting the mantlepiece, coffee table and dining table, then hoovering, okay?"

Jack nodded. "Tidy, dust, hoover. Got it."

"Then I want you to set the table for a nice, friendly, intimate dinner. There are a couple of pizzas in the fridge for tonight. I want to be ready to sit down at the table no later than seven-thirty, with the pizza being served at seven-forty-five. Got that?"

Jack glanced at his wrist, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't wearing a watch, and then looked at the clock on the mantlepiece, even though he knew it was only just after six. "Tidy, dust, hoover, set table. I think I can manage that in an hour and a half."

"Well, that's not all you'll be doing...." Emma said mysteriously. "But first, let's check the ground rules. Let's say you're dusting the mantlepiece," she said, taking his shoulders and turning him to face the fireplace, "and I do this"--and she slipped her hand between his legs and cupped his testicles. Fondling them gently, she asked, "what's your response?"

Apart from getting a solid boner? "I keep dusting," he said, as she pressed herself against his back, and slid her other hand around the side to his crotch and squeezed his stiffening penis."You didn't say to stop, so I keep going. Rule two." Her caresses really did feel very nice.

"Mmm, very good," she said, releasing him, and stepping back to the sofa. Sitting down, she picked up her cup and took a sip of tea, regarding him from under her lashes. "And if I said, 'come over here?'"

"Then that's rule one: new instructions, so I leave the dusting for now."

She looked at him. After a moment, she arched an eyebrow. Jack frowned; he didn't think he'd misunderstood the game.

"Well?" she said. "Come over here, then."

"Oh, right," he muttered, and stepped over to stand in front of her.

"Now then," she said, stroking his semi-erect shaft through the smooth material, and making him harder, "let's get a better look at you." She worked her fingertips into the waistband, and pulled the trunks down to his thighs -- thankfully, pulling them forwards and over his penis. "Mmm," she murmured, running her fingertips gently over the now-trimmed skin of his abdomen, around his now distinctly-more visible balls, and up and down his shaft. "Very nice. That'll do, too." She grasped the base of his penis and looked up at him, smiling, as she masturbated him, then she dipped her head and took him into her mouth.

Jack gave a sigh as he felt her tongue exploring the head, before she bobbed down to take more of him. With her other hand, she fingered his testicles. She masturbated him as she sucked, stimulating him.

He placed a hand on her head, only for her to slap it away immediately. She pulled back and looked at him archly. "Did I tell you to do that?" Then she returned to her ministrations.

Just lie back and enjoy it, Dan had said. Well, okay, then. Jack stood there in their living room, practically naked, while his suddenly quite forceful little lady sucked him off. After a few minutes, he could feel his abdomen quiver. His breathing had changed, and his hips were starting to jerk, despite his attempts to keep still.

Abruptly, Emma stopped, releasing him. "That's enough for now," she said. "I don't want you coming yet. There's the whole evening to go." She stood, and leaned in to whisper in his ear once more. "See? I told you: more blowjobs." She twanged the waistband of his underwear. "You can pull those back up now." Businesslike, she picked up a piece of paper from the coffee table. "Here's the list of tasks and a reminder of the timetable. I'm going to freshen up and get dressed for the evening now. You should get on -- it's already ten-past." She drifted out into the hallway, and then looked back once more. "No playing with yourself while I'm gone. Remember, I want you to last all evening."

And then she was off.

Jack's breath was steadying, though his erection still throbbed for release. "Down boy," he muttered to it, as he pulled up the trunks, and went looking in the kitchen for the dust cloths.

***

He tidied all the bits and bobs away -- although, in truth, there wasn't too much to shift -- and dusted the mantlepiece and dining room table. When Emma returned, he was dusting the coffee table. He'd taken everything off it, and was kneeling on the carpet, shining the polish with a cloth. So he was bending over with his back to her when she came into the living room again.

"Oh, perfect timing!" she said, and he felt his balls grabbed from behind again. Closing his eyes briefly, he continued to polish the table as she groped him and he stiffened again. Rule two.

After a minute, she said. "Pretty sure that table's as polished as it's going to get. Oh, silly me!" And she released his balls. Hard once more, Jack stood, turning. Emma was on her knees too, giggling at him. She was in a pale orange fluffy bath towel that covered her breasts down to her thighs, with a matching smaller towel wrapped her head. A wide grin on her face, she lightly ran the tip of her index finger along his erection from tip to base, as she said, "I should let you get on, shouldn't it? But before I do: I'd like a glass of wine, please."

"Red or white?" Jack asked, heading for the kitchen.

"White, please. There's a bottle chilling in the fridge."

He served her her beverage, and she snuggled on the sofa in her fluffy towels, to watch him as he set about the room with the vacuum cleaner. Each time he looked up, she was watching him with a happy smile on his face. Sometimes lustful, sometimes simply content.

"What?" he asked, when he turned off the vacuum cleaner to move the tables around so that he could clean under them.

She giggled. "That outfit really suits you. You look super hot. And Rebecca was right: it is really nice to have a hot guy to ogle at. I really hope you're enjoying yourself, because I'm having a fabulous time."

He barked with laughter. "I'm around quite often, you know, given that I live here too," he told her. And, he considered, he was enjoying himself. It was all quite strange, and he was finding this new Emma sometime of a surprise, but it was a good surprise. He was not objecting at all to the way she kept molesting him -- but he was looking forward to the promised orgasm, and hoped that she intended to follow through on that promise.

"But you're not always dressed for ogling. And under all your baggy hoodies and scruffy jeans, you are definitely ogle-able. Come over here," she said.

Time for more groping, he guessed. But instead, she pointed at the carpet.

"Kneel down," she told him. "I want you to go down on me for a bit." And she sprawled languidly on the sofa, leaning back into the corner, her backside on the edge of the seat, and one leg stretched up on the sofa to give him access. Half-lying, half-sitting, she could still sip the wine she held in her hand. "Whenever you're ready," she nudged.

As she'd positioned herself, the towel had ridden up, and now he could see that he wasn't the only person who had received a trimming today. Her pubic region was completely bare, with smooth skin, exposing all the folds of her sex. He looked on in wonder for a moment, before placing his hands on her thighs and leaning in, and starting to work with his tongue.

"Mmm, that's lovely," she said, and Jack could feel her stretching a little as she relaxed into it. And she let him continue for a minute, before she spoke again. "Keep going," she told him. "I told you sometimes I want one thing, and sometimes I want another. I'm going to talk though through some of those things. And you should know that, just because I'm not going oooh and aaah and writhing in passion, that doesn't mean it's not good; the women in those films are called porn actors for a reason. What you're doing right now feels very nice, and I really like it. And I like other things too."

And she began to guide him through the different ways she liked to receive oral sex. Applying his tongue to different locations, different paths of motion, and different speeds. Sucking. When and how to use his fingers as well. Lightness of touch, and where she liked pressure. She giggled when he got lost in her anatomy, and had to be guided to the right location, or when he confused her left and his left. Sometimes, she caressed his hair; at other times, she sipped her wine.

And through it all Jack was aware of several things.

He'd wondered, previously, whether he was doing it right, and why Emma didn't always have an orgasm when he went down on her; now he was amazed she'd managed any at all. Not only had he been stumbling around in the dark, it was evidently only plain luck and determination that he'd managed to provide the stimulation she'd needed, for long enough for her to climax. Because the difference between, as Emma put it, "that's really lovely, and I could happily let you do that to me for hours, but it wouldn't make me come" and "left a bit, bit more, up slightly, yes, there. Mm, good. Now, a bit faster. Yes, and lean in a bit. Yes, that's Oh Jesus, yes that's the one. Yes, now that would make me come" was minuscule, and also, she said, very much depended on her mood at the time. It was so difficult to tell whether what he was doing was right. Or, at least, that it was right for right now.

But, as he knelt between her legs, and gained so much knowledge he wished he'd received years ago, he realised belatedly that the reverse was also true. Given the right mood, Jack could jerk himself off in under a minute from a standing start, as it were, and Emma could usually get him to come when she was masturbating him, but sometimes he'd be almost at tipping point, and she'd change her motion to something else and it was back to the start. He'd been wondering why she didn't just "do it right", but now he realised that she couldn't tell what was right, unless he told her.

And while he could have been upset about all the time wasted where he'd been just flailing about, in fact he was feeling elated -- not to mention really turned on. With his face buried in her sex, covered in her juices, he was swathed in her aroma, and eager to learn how to please. His solid erection jutted forth, stretching the smooth black fibre. She'd told him that she often wanted long, gentle sessions, where she could be near orgasm for hours without tipping over the edge, and he wanted to try that. She said that sometimes, she wanted to reach orgasm quickly, before she was too sore or worn out, and he wanted to try that. He wanted to hear "Oh Jesus yes that's the one" again, when he was giving her what she needed.

He wanted to practice with her. A lot.

Almost as if she could hear his thoughts, Emma said. "Now, make me come. I'll guide you through it." And she did -- or, at least, she tried to. She got him positioned correctly, and adjusted his speed and pressure as required. Jack tried to pay attention to her breath and the twitching of her abdomen for clues, but he also knew that wouldn't tell him much. She gave him a few more directions, until she breathed, "There. Like that. Keep going." And he did his best to do exactly that, until she bucked under him, letting out a long moan through gritted teeth: "Nnnnnnnnnngggggghhhhh".

After a minute, she untangled herself, releasing him. He knelt upright and stretched his back and neck, while his wife gave a dreamy sigh.

She levered herself up, and clawed the collapsed turban from her head. She wrapped the bath towel around her body again.

"That was perfect. But remember that sometimes I just want 'nice and pleasant' instead, so remember how to do that, too." She leaned forward to kiss him. "Now, you need to finish the vacuuming. Oh," she added as she got up. "I want you to put the table here, and you only need a single place-setting, here. I'll be having dinner, and you'll be my waiter. You'll be having your pizza once we're all finished. Now, I have to go finish getting ready. You should hurry -- it's almost seven o'clock. Don't forget to put the oven on!"

She exited the room majestically, fully in control, but relented as she reached the stairs, and looked back in, a loving, grateful smile on her face. "It was really good. Really, really good. Thank you."

Erection still straining, Jack looked at the clock. Five to seven. He sighed theatrically. Onwards.

***

The next half an hour passed in something of a blur. Jack finished the hoovering, got the table positioned where Emma wanted it -- why she wanted it there, near the kitchen with her facing the kitchen doorway, he had no idea, but he'd now learned that there would be some nefarious purpose behind it, and he was intrigued to discover what that would be -- and the table laid out accordingly. As he set things up, he was thinking through all she'd told him, trying to commit it to memory. Definitely more practice needed, he thought with a grin. He'd expected his erection to subside as he finished sorting the room out, but his thoughts kept returning to her writhing beneath him, or to her calm, imperious voice as she instructed him on how to pleasure her, as she coolly sipped her wine. Both turned him on immensely.

It was seven-twenty-five when Emma came down again. She was dressed in a short, gold, strapless dress that flared at the skirt, stopping just above mid-thigh, with matching high-heeled strappy shoes. Her hair was up, in a careless twist that looked both casual and elegant, and which had probably taken forever to achieve. She had accessorised with the gold chain and earrings set that he had bought her for their last anniversary; hearts dangled from each. She held a small, gold clutch purse in one hand that looked quite full, and her laptop in the other. Her make-up was understated, just highlighting her features.

He knew that Emma was self-conscious about her looks, but Jack never understood why. He thought she was beautiful, and tonight proved it. She looked radiant.

"Wow", Jack said.

"You like it?" Emma asked, beaming at him. She gave a twirl; the dress wasn't skin-tight, but as she moved, it shifted on her contours, revealing her figure in a series of sensual, ever-changing hints.

"You look amazing," he said. "Absolutely beautiful."

Her eyes flashed with delight. "Well, in that case, I might wear it again, if it survives the night."

If it what? Jack wondered what else she had planned.

Emma had turned her attention to the room, taking in the single place setting at the table, with the napkin, the candle burning in a tall candlestick holder, and dimmed lighting coming from lamps around the room rather than from the harsh, overhead lights. "You've done a great job setting everything up," she said, approvingly as she placed her purse and laptop on the table. She waved a finger in the air: "The background music is a particularly nice touch. Very good." On a whim, Jack had quickly googled some string quartet playlists. She put her arms around his waist, kissed him, and gave him a wicked grin."I am pleased, so I shall obviously have to reward you." She leaned in and kissed him, closing her eyes. He did the same, then felt her hands slide down onto his buttocks. One hand stayed there and squeezed, while the other slid round to the front, to cup his testicles for a moment. Then she released him. "Later, of course."

Jack cleared his throat. "Would Madame like to take her seat?" he asked, pulling the chair back.

"Why, Madame would, thank you!" Jack pushed the chair into place as she sat.

"And would Madame like her pizza in the over?"

"Madame would, thank you."

In the kitchen, Jack took the oven-ready pizza from its cardboard package and started attacking the shrink-wrap. He noticed that he was in full view of Emma, as she sat at the repositioned table. She was leaning her chin on her interlaced hands, elbows on the table, watching him with a contented (and perhaps slightly smug) smile. Evidently all part of her plan to ogle him while he carried out the assigned activities. That was all right with him; Jack was quite enjoying being objectified by his wife.

He'd just got the pizza onto the baking tray when he heard the sounds of what appeared to be an amazingly poorly-timed incoming video call from the living room. Who on earth would be calling now, and without warning? He turned his head in surprise when he heard Emma talking.

"Hey, how are you?" Emma said.

She's accepted the call, he thought. Now? In the middle of all this?

"I'm good, and you?" A woman said. She sounded familiar. Then Jack realised it was Rebecca.

"Doing pretty well. You look great!"

"Thank you," Rebecca said. "You look fabulous, honey!"

Emma smiled, pleased. "You think so?" Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial stage whisper. "Jack likes it." She flashed a glance in Jack's direction, as he stood, baking tray in hand, and mouth open in surprise at this conversation even taking place.

Why would Rebecca be calling tonight, of all nights? Surely she'd remembered their plans for this evening? Emma had been discussing them with her often enough during the week.

"Well, of course he does!" Rebecca was mock-scolding Emma. "The boy's not blind! Anyway, sorry I'm a bit late. There were some distractions."

Wait--what?

"Oh, it's fine," Emma said. "I've only just sat down myself. Jack's just getting the pizza in."

That stirred Jack into motion, and he opened the oven and slid the baking tray in, a nasty suspicion forming in his mind.