Maid With Benefits (Part II)

By Lauren McAllister

            Over a week had passed since my horrifying, humiliating ordeal and I had heard exactly zippo out of Master Steven and Miss Elsie.  “Thank God!” thought I.  What was going through my tiny brain that I would subject myself to that kind of ill-treatment and degradation?  And for free!  I should’ve reported those two pervs to the police.  Who knows what other kind of sick, twisted shit they’re getting up to when they’re not doing the kind of sick and twisted shit that they were doing to me.  As the days wore on, it only strengthened my self-respect and resolve to put that whole unspeakable episode behind me.

              Damn!  I was on the computer reading some slash porn (Harry Potter had just hit Ron Weasley with a sodomy curse) and up pops an email from you know who.  They wanted me to report for work at their little house of horrors at 7 o’clock on Saturday.  7 o’clock in the fucking morning!  Perhaps they didn’t realize that “Saturday” is part of the goddamn weekend!  I usually don’t even get rid of my Friday one-night-stand until after ten.  Well, fuck them! 

            Luckily, the buses start running at 6 in my area or I would have had to walk.  It was so goddamn early in the AM; I didn’t even have the strength to have a wank before I left the house.  That never happens.  When I got there, I let myself in and immediately washed my lip farm and poo dispenser.  The charm twins were still asleep.  I was informed in a second email that if I woke them up before 8, I’d get one of Master Steven’s ass-buster spankings.  Needless to say, I was as quiet as two dead guys playing checkers while making their pre-ordered meals.  At 8 o’clock, on the dot, I was to awaken them with their breakfasts and stand silently by the bed while they stuffed it down their Mesozoic gullets.  What a noisy attractive treat that was. 

When the last deafening, gurgly swallow was just a faint ringing in my ears, I was to remove their food trays and pleasure the both of them orally while they enjoyed their morning coffee.  After doling out the Nabob, I curtseyed, pulled back the sheet and commenced giving Master Steven big wet knob job.  This was the first time I’d had his pant pet inside my mouth and it was not a particularly pleasant experience.  It was large and strangely shaped (Lumpy and slightly curved like big gray-colored shit log.).  You try sucking on a turd-shaped cock at 8:25 in the morning with no hands while the gentleman you’re blowing is chatting to his wife about needing to pick up some toenail fungus ointment.  Distasteful, doesn’t even come close to describing it.  I was really hoping that he didn’t want to shoot a load because, without using my hands, I’d have been down there till all my teeth fell out.  Master liked my head to bob up and down at a certain velocity and if I did it too fast or slow he would grab a fistful of hair and readjust the rhythm like he was the Arthur fucking Fiedler of dick smoking.  After about ten minutes of knocking my tonsils about with his weird-shaped woody, he flicked me hard in the ear to signal that he’d grown bored with my fellatio and I should go attend to the missus. 

Can a vagina have morning breath?  Don’t get me wrong, I’d eat out a nice looking, shaved jam jar like my own in a second, but Miss Elsie’s looked like Cousin It from the “Adam’s Family”.  Luckily, she flicked me in the ear even quicker than the Master, freeing me from a face-full of damp fur. 

After washing the dishes and then doing the same to my skirt vitals, I was told to crouch down on the bed between them with my bottom up in the air.  For the next half hour, they proceeded to amuse themselves by reading the morning paper and sticking various household items up into my freshly cleaned asshole.

            “Do you diddle yourself child?” Miss Elsie cawed.

            Blush.  “Pardon Miss?”

            Either I didn’t want to answer such an embarrassing question or I was a little distracted by the table spoon stuffed up my rectum at that moment, I don’t remember.

            SLAP.  Ow! 

            “Answer her.  Do you masturbate?”

            Double blush.  “Yes Miss.”


            “Good?”  My mother never used to say that when she caught me going at it with one of her favorite couch cushions.

            “Then you shall record yourself on video every time you perform this repulsive act and you shall hand those recordings over to me when you come into work.  Every one of them, understood?

            “Yes Miss Elsie.”

            “And you are to say ‘now’ a microsecond before you attain climax.  Is that clear?”



            “NOW!  I shall say ‘now’ before I climax, Miss Elsie.  It is very clear.”

            Out came the spoon and in went the stem of a Chianti bottle.  The straw on those things can really be uncomfortable.

            That night, I couldn’t even have a wank on the bus because there was no way to hold my smart phone, hike up my skirt and wallop my lap party without having three hands.  Worse, when I got home it took me almost 45 minutes of trial and error to get the lighting and the camera angle just right.  Luckily, the first wank was amazing.  It was like someone had tasered me between the legs.  I practically jack-hammered myself and the bed into the apartment below me.  I didn’t even bother to hit the pause button to catch my breath; I just went straight into my second finger fix.  I was going to need a much larger memory card.

            Now that I was documenting my self-abuse, I began to realize just what a masturbating maniac I’d become.  I seemed to be at it all the time.  Sliding those two fingers into my pud parlor and pounding the mound insensate had become about as common with me as putting the kettle on!  I got so sick of recharging the camera battery; I just plugged the thing straight into the wall.  Miss Elsie was going to think I was some sort of crazed cum queen but I dutifully fulfilled my task. 

            I think I blushed the color of Santa’s pants when I handed them the USB stick containing my “after-work activities”.  They didn’t thank me, of course.  Master Steven just told me to go into the bedroom, take off my clothes and spread my legs and he’d be along in a few minutes.  I curtseyed, gave myself a thorough wash and did as I was told.  Weirdly, I sort of felt sick to my stomach as I removed my uniform.  As demeaning and horrible as my treatment had been in that house, I’d never actually been totally naked before.  There was something really creepy and dread-inducing about having to remove the last vestiges of my physical privacy and protection (and this from a girl who’d had a frying pan handle rammed up her log lagoon!).  If that wasn’t bad enough, it was as cold as a penguin’s nuts in that house once I was sans attire.  My nipples instantly got as hard and fat as a Kardashian sister but I’d been told what to do so I lay on the bed, spread my legs and waited.

            Master Steven eventually sauntered into the room and peered sourly at my fully-on-display lady parts.  It was almost like he was going to fuck me as a favor and wasn’t happy about it.  There wasn’t even a bulge in his pants.  WTF?  I’m half his age, I’ve got perfect tits and a smokin’ hot bod… I mean, what the hell does it take to get this guy’s gonads going?

            “I’m ready for you Master Steven,” I said, to break the unbearable silence. 

            “I can see that, you silly bitch,” he thanked me.

I guess foreplay wasn’t really his bag.  There wasn’t going to be a lot of tender kissing and setting the romantic mood with Prince Charming.  He unzipped his pants and told me to suck him hard while he squirted about a cup of K-Y into his palm.  As soon as I’d orally coaxed his boink barrel awake, he reached over and slapped the lap-lube straight into my cunt.  YIKES!  Talk about cold and yucky and just plain fucking rude.  

The next thing I knew he was on top of me, jamming his doowanger into my squat pot.  And I do mean jamming.

“I thought you said you were ready for me.  Loosen it up!”

“Sorry Master,” I grunted through the pain and discomfort.  It felt like I was being asked to vaginally swallow a four pound turnip.  Finally, something mercifully gave way and that fucker slid inside me like greased-shit, right up to the hilt.  I believe I actually “Ooofed.”

Then, he started pumping away like I wasn’t even in the room.  There was zero acknowledgement of me down below him, taking one for the team.  It was absolutely the weirdest lay I’d ever had.  I mean, the guy was fully clothed and I was completely naked.  The feeling of all that rough material rubbing against my skin as he banged away and grunted like a Grand Canyon pack mule was bizarre.  The edges of his zipper were rubbing against the inside of my legs as he pummeled me southward.  Should I make any noises and pretend like I was actually enjoying this semen dump?  Would it speed up the ordeal or should I just lie there quietly and let him get on with his business?  Grunt.  Grunt.  He was making so many disgusting, unsettling noises that when Miss Elsie spoke up, I almost crapped a desk lamp.

“When you’re finished in here, I would like some tea in the den,” she sneered.

“Yes, Miss,” I replied from underneath her heaving, sweat-soaked husband.

“Don’t talk, child.  Concentrate on what you’re doing or I’m never going to get my tea.”

With that, she stormed off, leaving me to “concentrate”.  After another couple of minutes of huffing and puffing, Master Steven stuffed his big tobacco-stained tongue into my mouth and shot enough come inside me to fill a fireman’s bucket.  I could feel the icky sludge pouring out of him and filling up my girly soup tureen as his revolting, wriggling, slobber-coated meat flap tried to slither itself down my throat.  He seemed to gush for an eternity and then everything went quiet for about a half minute. 

In the next half of that minute, he was out of me and zipping up his pants.  “Lay there with your legs spread open until I leave the room.  Then you can get dressed and make my wife her tea.”  He looked over at the bed annoyed.  “You’ve created a wet spot and let some of my fluids seep out of you.  Wash all those sheets before you leave.”  Master Steven gave my right tit a thorough jiggling and waltzed off.  I looked down between my legs at the man mess he’d left for me to clean up.  Fuck! 

I didn’t get home till almost 12:30 (those sheets took a hell of a long time to dry).  I was so tired I could barely see straight as I set up the camera to record my pre-sleep wank.  It was definitely only going to be one trip to Happy Hollow, tonight.  I had a blistering orgasm and fell off to Nodland the second the cum spasms stopped.  When I woke up the next morning, my ring finger was still stuck up my cock-oven and the camera had recorded 7 hours of me snoring.   

So next weekend, I not only have to get up and make them breakfast, I have to hang around to serve drinks and shit at a party that evening.  Jesus Christ, I swear I can only be pushed so far.  Perhaps I should go and have a wank to calm down.  I wonder where I put my camera.

book number one

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