Washing Dishes

Washing dishes is my favorite, it's the time when I can really prove myself to her, a time when my panties come off and I work under her intense gaze. I'll still be in my short skirt with the apron that I wore while cooking dinner, but when she has finished eating and then has let me eat mine she will tell me when it is time for dishes. That's when I remove my panties and clear the table, trying very hard not to expose myself as I work.

If I am very ladylike in my posture I can clear off the table and carry the dishes to the sink without her seeing under my skirt and as long as I concentrate my bad boy will stay small and she won't see it lifting the hem she will be very happy. Of course when I bend to remove the napkin from her lovely lap she will see me and then reach out grabbing my balls. While she holds then and squeezes I will curtsey, enduring the cramping pain just to please her.

When she finally releases them I make sure I remain the perfect lady as I walk back into the kitchen and begin cleaning the dishes. We have an electric dishwasher but it all looks so cluttered to her so I simply wash the dishes in the sink, careful to exhibit the most pristine in feminine dignity and grace as I scrape her food and cigarette butts from her plate.

There is a special order that I must follow while doing dishes. First the glasses, so the cleanest water is used to remove the water or iced tea from the glasses and to polish out her lipstick stains. Coffee cups and silverware are next, again I use great care to remove the lipstick from them too. It is difficult because the lipstick stains remind me of her lips of how they move when she lets me please her, how they move when she calls me her "cunt boy," "her pretty Tommy," "her gentle tampon" as she comes. That's when she lets me suck her toes and lick her feet as I rub my bad boy and spurt my sticky white into a towel.

But I must be careful now, my bad boy must not get hard, not until she tells me to make it hard. I look deep into the dishwater, picture myself swirling in the filthy grease, feeling the food stick to my hair and it softens, my bad boy shrinks before she sees it. Anyway, after the coffee cups and silverware I wash the plates. When I finish them she will check them, first looking for her reflection in the shine and then holding it down under my skirt, making sure my bad boy is soft and then reaching in as squeezing my balls just a pinch.

The pots and pans follow the plates so the slightly dirty water still easily cleans off the grease and burnt food. I have scrapers to help but I must always be careful to keep my hands from getting rough. Sometimes she wants me to grasp her breasts in my hands, but my hands must be soft and my fingernails properly polished. If I use too harsh of a detergent or work with the steel wool pad too long my fingers get rough.

When I finish washing and drying I put the glasses, silverware, plates and pots and pans away. Once again I must be careful when I reach up so my skirt keeps me modest and then when I bend over I bend at my knees and drop straight down, as graceful and feminine as possible. If I'm not careful she'll sneak up on me and even if I am properly covered she might just reach in and tickle my balls, or grab my bad boy or sometimes simply rub my buttocks.

There are other times when she will run her hand down my legs making sure I have shaved them properly, so all she will feel is my smooth, ladylike skin. I make sure I shave them twice a day, along with my face and the bit of hair on my chest. She loves it when I am ready for her and though she'll squeeze my balls anyway, I'll know I did well.

And now, I've finished the dishes and cleaned out the sink and await her inspection. Nervously I stand near the sink and watch as she looks as the silverware, making sure it is properly stacked, then the plates, all the flower patterns arranged tastefully. The glasses, cleaned of all lipstick and spots, the pots and pans shining in the bright kitchen light.

"You've done very well my pretty Tommy," she says, reaching under my skirt and opening her hand. "Now give me that hard, bad boy."

Released from my fetters I picture her lips whispering cunt boy, gentle tampon and my bad boy immediately grows into her hand. Holding him she leads be back to the bedroom and then removes her clothes, handing them to me one by one as I place them gently in the clothes hamper. Once she is naked, in all her immense beauty I take off my apron and skirt, carefully fold them and place them on the corner of the bed. I then take off my blouse and bra, once again folding them and putting them on the bed.

The last thing I do is step out of my high heels, but leave on my garter belt and stockings. I stand in front of her, motionless except for the throbbing in my bad boy, waiting for her instructions. After about five minutes she looks up and at me and smiles.

"I want your bad boy inside me," she said, moving onto her back and spreading her legs wide enough so I can squeeze in between her legs. I ease my bad boy into her, feeling her warm wetness fold over me, seeing her stomach and enormous breasts begin to jiggle as I push myself to the hilt. Though I start slowly, she wants me to move more quickly, she wants me to bang against her so her flesh quivers with each movement, so the large folds of her labia are pressed out of the way and her clit grinds into me.

I fight the urge to come by biting my lip, or counting the silverware in my head as I keep thrusting into her. When she finally moans, "I'm coming pretty Tommy, I'm coming," and her whole body quakes around me I let myself relax. Soon she will rest a bit and then hold up a foot as I lick between her toes and begin stroking my bad boy, stroking my bad, bad boy until I soil her towel with my sticky white.

Sometimes she will let me sleep with my head between her legs, lapping up any of her juices as they ooze out of her. But not tonight, instead I pick up the soiled towel and her clothes and carry them to the washer. I then return to her room, pick up my blouse, skirt, apron, and under things and carry them to my room. She will drift to sleep and I will be alone until she awakens in the morning.

Morning means breakfast and then breakfast dishes and washing dishes is my favorite.