I hired Dominique, via Home Help online, at a premium rate since she was a qualified nurse. It was self-indulgent to pay a nurse to act as a housekeeper but I'd always been a bit of a hypochondriac, especially since I'd moved to London. Perhaps I simply missed the country air but I liked the idea of having my own medical practitioner, even if it was for just a few hours a week.
We had agreed that she should come to me once a week for three hours, with the option of her being contracted for additional hours.
Our arrangements had been made by email, so it was a pleasant surprise when I opened the door to a large, well-proportioned black woman. I'd thought, lazily, that she might have had French ancestry but not that she would be West African.
When she removed her long coat I was further surprised, just as agreeably, by the smart blouse and skirt that she was wearing -- stylish, certainly, but there was no more to them than the bare minimum that was required.
She cleaned the house at an easy, sedate pace, yet with impressive thoroughness, sipping from a large bottle of mineral water that she had brought. After about two hours she had finished what I had asked her to do so I I left my computer, made us a pot of tea and we sat down to chat.
She told me about her family in the Ivory Coast and about her six month old son, Ben, being looked after by her cousin in the flat they shared in Ealing. I told her a bit about myself, focusing on my struggle with my first novel, and she roared with laughter and slapped her thigh:
"Your first novel! And you've told me you've hardly started it, and you're thirty six! How many will you write and publish, do you think?"
I had to laugh too at my presumption; this woman was going to be very easy to like. Dominique finished her tea and assumed a professional demeanour.
"Now, I'm cleaning your house and doing your chores but since you're paying me as a nurse I must ask you about your diet. How much fresh food do you eat, especially fruit?"
I replied not as much as I should. She looked at me steadily, as if sizing me up, then smiled innocently, just a hint of mischief in her eyes:
"What about fresh milk, then -- do you want some of mine?"
I hesitated for almost a second, then, lost for words, nodded dumbly. As she had intended I had been admiring her stunning cleavage under her tight, low cut blouse since she arrived, but things were happening more quickly than I could have imagined. Of course they were. Because she was in charge. If it had been left to me it would have taken two months rather than two hours for us to get it on.
She unbuttoned her top and removed her bra, got out her left breast, hitched up her short skirt and sat astride me on the sofa, kicking off her shoes. I drew her enormous tit into my mouth and sucked evenly, then more insistently, and soon the sweet milk began to flow. At last she withdrew and passed me over to her right breast. When I'd drunk my fill I playfully sucked each tit in turn, in admiration and appreciation.
"What do you think?," she asked.
"That it's probably an essential part of my diet now."
Taking my head in her strong hands Dominique ran her tongue over my eyelids, inside my ears, between my teeth, and dribbled copious amounts of her delicious saliva into my mouth:
"That's an old nursing trick. Builds up immunity to infection. Let's see, what else would be useful? Can I borrow a fleece -- not too long, just down to my waist?"
I fetched my best fleece. She slipped off the rest of her clothes and put it on without zipping it up.
"Right, more immune system strengthening."
So saying, she bent right over, leaning on the footstool, and brought her massive, muscular arse up to my face. I knelt down, clasped her thighs, pulled her back slightly and kissed her buttocks, ran my tongue up and down the crack of her arse, inside her cunt, around her anus. As I alternated between her clitoris and deep along the top of her vagina she writhed and pressed back and down on me, finally climaxing with shrieks and screams. Back on the settee she sat slumped heavily in my lap for some time, her head leaning against my chest, as I tenderly stroked her thighs and buttocks, then stood up and announced:
"You should have something to eat."
She returned from the kitchen a few minutes later, carrying a large bowl of chopped fresh fruit and oats.
"Now that," she said, "is quite nutritious, but there's room for improvement. I can make the mixture more varied for you, and add some valuable minerals."
She went to the kitchen again and brought back a glass of wine. Taking a large swig she threw her head back, gargled, and let it all run out of her mouth into the bowl. I mixed it in with the spoon; she added a second large mouthful, squatted, positioned her arse carefully over the bowl and pissed a small amount -- a cupful, maybe -- into it.
It was an unusual dish, full of intriguing flavours and very much to my taste. When I'd finished I congratulated her on her inspired recipe. She kissed me lightly, unzipped me, took out my rock-hard penis, and sucked me enthusiastically, drawing me deep down into her throat. After only a few minutes I erupted and gushed spunk into her beautiful mouth; she swallowed, sighed deeply, and rested her head quietly in my lap for a while, occasionally licking and nibbling my half-erect cock. She looked up:
"Shall I do some overtime?"
"Just what I was thinking."
We stood up, clasped hands, picked up some wine, and headed for my bed. Without anything being said I arranged three firm pillows so that I could lie with my head raised in comfort; my nurse climbed on top of me, sat full on my face, leaned forward and took my cock into her mouth again, as I explored her magnificent arse and cunt with re-invigorated tongue. Several orgasms later we dozed for a while, until Dominique lazily turned around, slid up, and straddled my face with her tremendous thighs, her cunt directly over my mouth.
"It's important that you don't get dehydrated, and it's been a while since you had a drink."
She pulled my head forward gently and pissed down my throat a little, paused for me to gulp it down, pissed some more, waited again, pissed , paused, then gushed the rest into me in one go, so that I had to swallow as her piss was pouring into me like a waterfall.
"I've been saving it for you for hours."
I realised then that, apart from the small amount she had released into my cereal bowl, she had not had a piss since she had arrived but she had drunk a large bottle of water whilst doing the cleaning. Then there was the tea and the two big glasses of wine she had swallowed in the bedroom.
She saw me looking thoughtful and laughed:
"Yes, I had been kind of preparing for this, but don't worry, I wouldn't have let you drown -- although it was touch and go towards the end there! I'm serious about looking after you. Now, I think I should boost your emotional health a bit more."
Swivelling around, she sat heavily on my face, her fabulous arse engulfing me and her cunt completely covering my mouth; and I felt her begin to suck me, warmly, rhythmically. I had just got going with my sucking when she sat up and leaned back, burying my face in her arse; then she leaned forward slightly and, gripping my thighs tightly to stabilise herself, rode up and down on my face, moaning ecstatically, as I pushed my tongue up and round her arse, then her cunt, until she climaxed again with flame and spectacle. Leaning forward she took me back in her mouth, drew me so far back in her throat I feared she would choke, and with a gentle but insistent sucking motion she gradually drew out every last drop of spunk I could produce, swallowing it with evident relish as I experienced the most protracted, intense and serene orgasm that I had ever known.
After another brief rest we finished with her 'therapeutic nurse's massage': she bent me over, grabbed hold of my cock and balls and slapped my buttocks hard, until the skin was red-hot and they were suffused with blood and agonising pleasure.
We lay back down and turned to gaze at one another.
"You've got a young son."
"And a dependent cousin." She paused, then beamed a smile at me: "I like this flat. It's a lot more comfortable than mine."
"You don't hang back, do you? Are you inviting yourself to stay here? With your son and cousin?"
Dominique leaned over and kissed me softly on my lips:
"Since you put it like that, I will, thank you. Amachi, my cousin, can share a room with Ben and I'll share yours."
"Of course." I'd meant it to sound sarcastic but it came out as a flat statement of agreement.
"I'll see my other clients during the day whilst you're writing, Amachi can carry on looking after Ben, who's no trouble at all, a very quiet baby, and anyway she can take him out to the park now it's getting warmer. And we have our evenings and nights together. Okay?"
"How do you know I haven't got a girlfriend, my calculating nurse?"
She laughed again, quietly at first, then with unconstrained mirth, till she was almost shrieking.
"What do you think I was doing with my brain when I spent two hours cleaning your apartment earlier? If there had been any sign of a girlfriend I'd have seen it. No lady has stayed here for months, I could tell that."
I smiled back at her. I was excited and a bit scared. This was one hell of a woman.
"In any case,' she continued, 'I own you. Totally. You couldn't take your eyes off me after I took my coat off. You couldn't have been more mine if you'd signed a bit of paper saying 'Dominique is my mistress for as long as she desires it'."
"You're right. You're very perceptive but there's one thing you've overlooked."
A slight frown creased her brow: "Tell me."
"My arse still feels like it's been branded with red-hot pokers. As my nurse you should have done something about that already."
I eased myself off the bed and stood, a little unsteadily, as Dominique fetched a bottle from the bathroom. She knelt in front of me, poured calamine lotion into her palms and rubbed it thoroughly into my buttocks as she sucked me off with her trademark gentle passion. I came buckets, she swallowed, and we lay back on our bed.
Dominique, Amachi and Ben moved their belongings in over the next few days. The arrangement has worked surprisingly well so far. Dominique leaves mid-morning and returns in the evening, allowing me plenty of time to write and bond with Ben and the sweet Amachi, a younger version of her cousin, in many ways.
Along with Ben I take as much milk from his mother as she can produce; fortunately there's plenty for us both. Dominique still adds her saliva and cunt juices to my meals and makes sure I have a couple of pints of her piss every day. My health has never been better and hers is in full bloom: she has twelve clients but assures me my spunk tastes the best since, thanks to her, I've now got the perfect diet.