The Seventh Hymn

Ketchum watched with interest -- he, too, was becoming aroused -- and asked, "How are we doing, Tucker? Is Lacey getting happy?" Eyes closed, she rubbed herself wantonly and realized, with shame and relief, that she would indeed come. She was soaking both the bra and her panties. Ketchum kept talking. "Do you need a sexy image, Tucker? Think of yourself in a zoo. For nymphos. And everyone's watching you play with Lacey." He laughed, "Drenched, aren't you. That bra will never smell the same, I'm afraid." He reached out to cup Lacey's breast and rolled a nipple between his fingers.

Soon enough her orgasm arrived. With a croak, she doubled over and clamped her legs on the hand jammed inside her panties. Ketchum waited until the wave crested before pulling her hand out to look it over. "Good girl, Tucker. Don't ever fake an orgasm." She gulped air and nodded; her other arm hugged her tingling breast. God, it felt good.

Ketchum pulled the soiled bra from her panties and dropped it on the table. He lifted her chin to look in her eyes as he opened his pants. "Now I'd like you to meet Dan," he said as he fished out his circumcised penis. It was not yet fully erect when he pushed it at her face. "I get to come, too, Tucker."

Understanding what was expected of her, Tucker began sucking 'Dan.' It had been a long time since she had sucked a cock. Mostly she felt an urge to impress Ketch. How long since he'd had a blow job? Dan filled both hands; she stroked and slurped and sucked with a rising sense of competitiveness. She wanted to make Ketch come quicker than she had. Just when she thought he was close, he pulled out of her mouth. He dragged her to the sofa arm and bent her over. He intended to fuck her. "Time for Lacey to meet Dan," he announced. He lowered her panties to her knees and parted her legs as far as the banded underpants allowed. Grabbing an ass cheek, he entered her pussy part way, pausing to drop some saliva on his cock before pressing it home. She gasped as he bottomed out. "Jesus, Tucker, you're tight. You're a nympho -- don't you ever get laid?"

Lacey was tender following her orgasm, but still slick and aroused. Ketchum enjoyed himself, reaching around to grope her tits and copulating lustily. Lacey was passive but could not deny that Dan felt good -- just...shit...really good. Each stroke jolted her. She hadn't felt it for a long time. Not five minutes later -- such was his ardor -- Ketchum grunted, gave a last emphatic thrust, and pulled out to come on her ass. His cock continued spurting as he stroked it; he came a lot. "You'll be wanting some birth control," he noted dryly. Wiping his spent cock on her dress, he asked, "Ever been sodomized, Tucker?"

Lacey couldn't see him behind her and was struggling to process events. She was being fucked, then she wasn't, then she felt his warm jizz on her skin, and now he was asking...what?! She had imagined anal, of course, but with trepidation. She shook her head. He patted her butt. "Don't worry. We'll get you some plugs to start." Was he serious?

After returning Dan to his pants Ketchum informed her, "Well, the sex part's over, Tucker. Get yourself cleaned up." He pointed to a hallway. "Kitchen's there, or bathroom's down the hall." Lacey pulled up her panties and awkwardly clutched the dress to cover herself as she left the room, still in her heels.

In the bathroom she took some time to breathe and collect herself. Had that really just happened? After mopping up, she pulled her panties back into place. She inspected her pussy with new interest ('Lacey?' Really?). And what the hell does he mean 'grooming?' She straightened her dress, tugging here and there for fit because she no longer had a bra. When she finally returned to the living room, Ketchum was doing something with her phone. She had a strong urge to snatch it away and slap him. Instead, she stood quietly as he finished whatever he was doing.

He looked up at her and nodded his approval at her rehabilitated appearance. Returning his attention to her phone, he remarked, "It has a new passcode, Tucker, but don't worry, your fingerprint will still get you in." Her eyes widened in surprise; he ignored it. "You'll see I've added my credit card to the wallet. Use it to buy whatever you need; I guess you need a new bra thing. Sorry. Hope we didn't hurt the dress. It turns out Amazon sells a lot of bondage stuff -- Etsy too -- who knew?" He paused to chuckle. "Well, maybe you and your lady friend knew. Anyhow, I put some Astroglide and butt plugs in the shopping cart. Add whatever it's going to take to make all your little nympho dreams come true. Check out with the card. It should all be here by Monday." He clicked off the phone and handed it to her. "Questions?"

Lacey walked to the sofa to pick up her coat and dropped the phone in its pocket. "I have a full-time job."

"Yes, you said that. So do I. Lots of people work more than one job, Tucker. Figure it out. Work at night. Or bring it here. I'm giving you weekends off and I'm sure we can find you a personal half-day here and there. We'll be done most days by 5 or 6, except for the nympho business."

"You don't understand..."

"I think I do. If you're not here by 10 on Monday, I'll know you're not coming. No hard feelings -- I'll just return everything -- but don't contact me again." He cocked an eyebrow. "Remember, Tucker, you wanted me to be in charge. It's your decision to come back or not, but that's the last one you get to make."

She put on her coat and turned to leave. Ketch called after her, "Get yourself an Uber, Tucker. Put it on the card." She threw up her hands, shook her head and left without the discarded bra.

Lacey had come in her own car and drove back to her apartment in a daze. She didn't check her phone until she was in the door at home. Then she saw Ketchum had changed the photo on her lock screen. It was now an image of her, bare breasted with her hand in her panties, eyes squeezed shut, having an orgasm. She covered her mouth in shock and quickly put the phone down. Then she stifled a laugh and peeked again. Oh my God, Ketch. And there were more photos. It occurred to her then that this might be what she was looking for, or close enough. Ketchum wasn't looking for attachment; he just wanted some free labor along with the kinky sex. Kinks without strings pretty much described her wish list, too, plus she figured Ketch was safe and she could quit whenever.

It is perhaps surprising that Lacey did not fret or agonize more about whether to go back. Once she looked at her phone and the BDSM collection Ketchum had mentioned, she couldn't help shopping for gear; once she began shopping, her mind was made up. She added many items to the cart; some she was familiar with from Tying Up Tammy, others just piqued her interest. Cuffs, clips, tie downs, lengths of soft, all-purpose rope, a spreader bar, nipple clamps, a blindfold and a ball gag; even a serious-looking paddle, strap, and flogger. Eventually, she took a deep breath and told herself it was enough already (was it?). She debated about adding vibrators; she had a serious weakness for vibrators, but already owned several. In the end, she kept hers at home and ordered a new one for Ketch's.

Finally, she forced herself to stop shopping and turned her attention to work. She needed to get ahead if she was going to juggle another job. On Sunday she emailed her boss to say she'd be working from home for a while, and to please let her know if that was a problem. She knew it wouldn't be, since her boss did the same thing. There might be a few meetings to attend in person, but otherwise no one noticed or cared when or whether she was at the office.

Ketchum saw before he went to bed Saturday that Lacey had indeed placed an order for bondage accessories and he scrolled through it, first with amusement -- there was a lot, and she had ordered quality, not the cheap stuff -- but then with some disquiet. A spreader, Lacey? Nipple clamps...a paddle?! Lace, Lace, Lace, what are we doing, he wondered. Groping, fondling, fucking, sure -- okay. But could he spank her? Flog her? She wants this? Jesus Christ.

Ketchum had trouble concentrating on work Sunday, or even on the Patriots game. What should he be doing about Monday? Anything to fix or prep? He scanned his kitchen and pantry. Did she drink coffee? He couldn't remember. Maybe he should get some tea. What about lunch? They would order out. He planned to set her to work -- there was plenty to do -- but work where? He checked the bathrooms, saw he needed toilet paper -- women used more than men -- and grumpily decided to shop; it was too late to order online. He walked to the nearby mall, which was anchored by a large grocery store. On the way in, he passed a shop for work clothes and uniforms and stopped to check it out. He went in looking for something sexy but left with multiple sets of medical scrubs.

The First Week

Lacey arrived at Ketchum's Monday morning at 9:30 carrying a bag for her wallet, phone, lunch and water bottle, and a backpack for her laptop and files. She rang the bell. Even before he let her in, Ketchum winked and handed her a house key. "Morning, Tucker," he greeted her. "Tomorrow we'll want an earlier start."

"You said 10," she protested.

"That was just a deadline. If we start earlier, we finish earlier."

In the living room, Lacey set down her things and took off her coat. As she looked for a spot to put the coat, Ketchum pointed to a closet. No longer in a slinky dress, Lacey wore jeans and a sweatshirt. Ketchum was glad he had stopped at the uniform store.

They began with a tour of his small, single-story bungalow. First, the eat-in kitchen, where Ketchum had already brewed a pot of coffee. He poured a mug for both of them. Next, the living room in which Lacey's interview and audition had taken place. In addition to standard furniture, it contained books and papers stacked on the floor around the perimeter. Next to it, a well-lit office/library was obviously Ketchum's workspace. It had three walls of bookshelves, a desk, chair, and two tables. Stacked on the horizontal surfaces were books, papers, and folders -- there were no drawers. Unshelved books had accumulated in boxes and piles on the floor. Evidently, the office had once been the dining room -- it had a chandelier. Then there was Ketch's large bedroom -- the master -- with a queen bed, walk-in closet, and en suite bath. Finally, there was a smaller bedroom with an unmade twin bed, a dresser, mirror and chair; on the bed lay a stack of folders and a paper sack. Overall, for a bachelor's place, it wasn't bad. Every room had one or more windows, which Ketchum must have opened from time to time -- there were no stale odors.

"Where do I work?" asked Lacey. She had brought plenty of her own work and hoped to get through a decent amount of it, realizing work might be disrupted if packages started arriving.

"There's the kitchen or the spare bedroom," Ketchum replied. For his part, he usually spread out, wandering between the office and the living room, and among two laptops and a tablet, depending on his mood and what he was working on. "First, let's get you your uniform."

Lacey bristled. "Excuse me? Uniform?" She pictured something risqué and ridiculous, like a French maid's costume. "I am NOT wearing any fucking maid's uniform!" she fumed.

Ketchum shushed her. "First, mind your fucking language, Tucker. Second, you're not in charge, remember? Your uniform's on the bed in the guest room. Pipe down and get dressed."

Lacey tossed her head and left. She returned wearing a set of scrubs, pale blue. The top was V-necked with a fitted bust, the bottom was loose-fitting with pockets and a drawstring. Lacey remained puzzled about the scrubs but mollified by their nondescript modesty and relative comfort. Ketchum had her turn around so he could appraise the fit. He had guessed size correctly. He cheekily pulled both top and bottom open briefly, without permission, to check for bra and panties. "Keeping the underwear, I see. Okay for now," he said and patted her butt. Lacey narrowed her eyes and thought, 'How about I check your underwear, asshole?' but said nothing.

"Now. As to work," Ketch continued. "That's on the bed, too. I expect you saw the folders. I printed out four proposals. Two chapters, outline, bibliographies, blah, blah. The usual. I'm guessing three rejects, one maybe. Let me know what you think: a page or two of notes."

"When?"

Ketchum pursed his lips. "They were promised two weeks ago. See what you can do. Leave your phone here."

She sighed impatiently. "If I'm going to work, duh, I need my phone." It was a fair point. Ketchum nodded and Lacey trudged to the bedroom.

The rest of the day was dull. Ketch was in his office -- she heard him typing and muttering now and then. She had some phone meetings, which she took in the spare bedroom, then spent an hour on email. Before she knew it, Ketch was hollering what did she want for lunch; Lacey hollered back she'd brought her own. She ate in the kitchen, alone, while beginning work on her own deadlines. She noticed Ketchum accepting a food delivery. It was late in the afternoon when she finally picked up one of his proposals. It sucked. Some professor in Texas wanted to write an anthropology book someone else had already written better. She began to make notes that would support a polite but firm rejection.

She had been tired for a while without realizing how late it was. When Ketchum knocked on the doorframe it was nearly six. "Quitting time, Tucker." She glanced at her phone and scowled at the time. "I'm almost done."

"Sorry to say your nympho package isn't here yet. Delivery is still promised by 8 pm." He came over to see what she was working on. It was his project, but he waved it off. "Never mind. It's three weeks late. It can wait a few more days."

"I thought you said it was two weeks late."

"Everyone lies about how late they are. Come on. Let's get something to eat. I'm heading to Scotty's."

Lacey declined dinner at Scotty's, but rather than remain alone, she hustled to pack her things. Without bothering to change back into jeans, she left when he did. "'Night, Tucker. Good start, eh?"

Lacey arrived next day in the same blue scrubs; she had washed them. Ketchum was already in the living room, working, with papers spread all over the coffee table. He rose when he heard her come in. "Morning, Tucker." He glanced at his watch. "Coffee?" She'd already had some and shook her head. "Your kit came." He indicated an open shipping box on the sofa. "Interesting assortment, Tucker." She cringed. He beckoned her over. "Come have a look." She put her things down and approached the sofa as Ketchum began pulling items from the box to show her. He placed each neatly on the sofa, creating an impressive, embarrassing line of BDSM gear. When he got to the cuffs, he told her to try them on.

She hesitated. "Now?" He tossed one to her with an encouraging gesture. She buckled a lined leather cuff onto each wrist as he watched. When she finished he handed her two more. "Ankles, too." She bent over to fasten the cuffs but didn't notice tie downs on the sofa legs. As soon as she stood up, he tugged her drawstring with a smirk and the loose scrub pants fell. Lacey tried to grab them on the way down but missed. "Nope. Leave 'em." Lacey obeyed, blushing in pale pink panties. Ketchum kicked aside the scrubs and nudged her to the back of the sofa. "Hold still." He fastened a tie down to each ankle then tightened them, pulling her legs apart. Ketchum checked his work -- with a hand on her ass -- to make sure she was secure. Then he pushed her torso over the back of the sofa; her chin landed on the cushions in front. Taking his time now, Ketchum clipped each wrist cuff to a front tie down. When he finished, Lacey was spread-eagled, in scrub top and panties, over the large sofa. Ketchum spoke over his shoulder as he walked to the office. "Oh, I forgot to tell you -- bring in some heels, comfortable ones. We might need them some day."

Lacey was eyeing the papers that covered the coffee table, only a couple of feet from her face; they were all in German. She didn't have time to think about it. She heard Ketch returning saying, "But not today, I guess." Without ceremony he scissored off her panties and ran a hand between her bare legs. Lacey started. He chuckled -- he found he enjoyed cutting clothes off her. For good measure he reached under and gave her breast a quick squeeze through the scrub top.

"I unpacked the butt plugs before you got here. We'll start with the small guy." She heard him squirting something that she assumed -- hoped -- was lube. Enjoying her predicament, Ketchum asked, "Do you ever use Astroglide, Tucker? Amazing stuff. Incredibly slippery. Use enough of it and you can fit anything anywhere!"

Lacey knew what was coming and sucked a deep breath. She had little time to imagine it, because it happened immediately. Ketchum spread her cheeks and pushed the plug in. "Shit!!" she cursed. She squirmed reflexively but couldn't move far. Ketchum laughed. "See?" he said. "Right in." Lacey scowled. A moment later she heard buzzing, just before Ketchum applied a vibrator -- a wand -- to her pussy. Where did that come from? She hadn't ordered it. Ketchum explained, "You may not enjoy the plug, Tucker, but we want to make sure Lacey has a good time. By the way, does your lovely bum have a name yet?"

Lacey ignored the question and focused on the vibrator. She knew what it would do to her.

"Ah, okay. Let's call her Lucy." Tucker groaned as the wand began having its predictable effect. Ketchum applied it patiently until he elicited the orgasm they both anticipated. He let her rest, pant, and savor it a bit before undoing the tie downs. "Now to work, Tucker." She was allowed to put her bottoms back on, but the cuffs remained for the rest of the day. That meant, Lacey assumed, that TD&F would become a reality before she went home.

They both went to work. The wrist cuffs proved a nuisance while she was working, but only once did Lacey complain about the plug. Around lunch time she sought out Ketchum with a request. "Can I take this thing out now? It's hard to sit. It feels like a bowling pin." Ketchum rebuffed her. "It stays where it is, Tucker." He arched an eyebrow. "If that comes out, Big Dan goes in. Think about it." Tucker returned to her work. Ketchum didn't see her flip him off.

Late in the afternoon Ketchum summoned her back to the living room. He was twirling a blindfold and beckoned her once again to the sofa. Tucker advanced nervously. Out of the blue, she realized she hadn't peed that afternoon and hoped it wouldn't cause a problem. Ketchum fixed the blindfold over her eyes, then allowed his hands to roam over her body. She did not flinch or resist -- that he would take such liberties was hardly surprising in the circumstances. Ketchum murmured, "Good girl." He slipped a hand inside her V-neck for a quick feel -- God, he loved those tits. Tits, he reflected, were marvelous things. Without warning, he grasped both sides of the V and ripped her top open. That did surprise her, and the suddenness of it nearly caused her to lose her balance. Ketchum chuckled. "Now you see the practical advantages of your uniform." Tucker felt a sudden tug on her bra, and it parted. She realized he had sliced it with a knife. "Tch. More things to replace," he mused. The knife worried her a little.

After that, TD&F was rapidly accomplished. Ketchum secured her to the sofa again -- it seemed a perfect height. This time her legs were splayed farther apart and her breasts swayed inside the ripped top and bra. She fleetingly recalled the German papers she had seen from the same vantage point that morning, except now she was blindfolded. Ketchum gave her no time to think about it. He tapped the buried butt plug matter-of-factly. "When you're ready, Tucker, we'll move up a size." He fingered her vagina as he opened his fly. "Dan's been waiting all afternoon. How about Lacey?" She was moist, but not sopping. However, Ketchum did not intend to wait or indulge in any foreplay. He was already hard and reasoned that she desired, after all, to be forced. Wasn't that the whole point? Nevertheless, he gave her a dollop of Astroglide.