Maid With Benefits (Part III)

The Party

By Lauren McAllister

            What with this stupid party I was supposed to serve at and my own personal needs, I’d had a pretty hectic week of masturbating and practicing carrying trays full of drinks with one hand.   I once tried carrying a tray with one hand and wanking with the other but that did not work out very well at all.   Well, you live and learn.

            The night before the big event, I hit the hay early to gird myself for the depressingly long day ahead of me with the torture twins.  Well, maybe just one more wank before lights out.  I set up the video camera and let ‘er rip.  There’s just something sinfully magical about sliding one’s own fingers down in between those tender pink petals and bangin’ out a big one.  Don’t get me wrong, I like sex with other people but when I’m on a randy handy roll, better grab yourself a set of quality earplugs. 

            The morning came about as fast as my last boyfriend.  What a fucking nightmare.  I somehow managed to find my way to the bus stop without really opening my eyelids.  It was as cold as a tit full of ice cream and I was wearing practically nothing under my short coat. The bus seats stuck to my naked ass and it was like, completely gross.  When I got to the Chez Old Folks, I climbed up on the vanity sink and everything “down there” got scrubbed and washed like it was Karen Silkwood. 

            After an initial series of uncomfortable and humiliating experiences, it was time to make their goddamn breakfast.  Today, they wanted French fucking toast!  Needless to say, the morning food menu at my hovel is a little less lofty than items that require actual ingredients and cooking temperatures.  Then I had to pour maple syrup into these stupid little cups and measure out powdered fucking sugar.  The whole thing was out of an “I Love Lucy” episode.  It took forever to clean the kitchen afterwards and by then I was two minutes late to wake them up.  Shit!  “Well, maybe he won’t notice,” I fantasized as I climbed their stairs in my ridiculously high heels.  True to form, the first thing that prick did when he opened his eyes was look over at the clock. 

            “Tut tut.  You know what that means, don’t you Alisha?”

            “Yes, Master Steven.”  I blushed and curtseyed. 

            “At some point today, you must pay a price for your tardiness.  But we’ll have our breakfast first and leave your comeuppance ‘til later.”

            I handed Miss Elsie the numerous recordings of me self-pleasuring and served them their regal spread. When they finished snorting and chewing like demented hyenas I sucked cock and licked snatch while they discussed her cyst operation.  Then, they amused themselves for the next half an hour stuffing random household objects up my ass while they read the paper.  That Macintosh apple hurt like a bastard!… especially when it came back out.  

            After they tired of their anal fun and games, I was dismissed to go rewash my poor violated poop palace and hoohaw.  Cleaning that house was absolutely backbreaking.  I mean, holy shit, that place was so filthy and disgusting you’d have though I lived there. 

At noon, Master Steven decided it was time for his pre-lunch screw and called me into the bedroom.  I took off all my clothes, got down on the bed and immediately started frantically fingering my love nub to loosen up my dick door.  Once he got on top of me, he found any sort of delay in gaining penetration to be highly irritating.  Right now, with a brutal walloping in my very near future, I needed as much good will as I could get from the perverted little troll.  He unzipped his pants and shoved his willy up under my nose.  I took a wild guess as to his intentions and started swirling his “limpy” around with my tongue. Meanwhile, I was still actively tickling my nibblet in a concerted effort to “loosen up the gates.”

“Stop playing with yourself and work my balls, you silly slut.”

“Yesh matter teven,” I replied with a mouth full of cock.

A few seconds of gnawing on his nutsack and scrotum and up it went.  Then up he went.  Dim Juan was sweating like an old piece of cheese and plowing me with extreme prejudice when Miss Elsie wandered into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.  At first I thought she was just going to order her herbal tea again but no, she starts rattling off this whole list of things she wants me to pick up at the store.  I tried to focus on remembering this crap load of groceries (including specific brands) but it wasn’t that easy to stay focused with a grunting baboon on top of me ramming his pant pipe up into my lungs.  “Avocados.  UH!  Carr’s Crackers.  UH!  Brie.  UH!”

“Did you get all that, girl?”

“Uh! Uh!  Yes, Miss. Uh!”

I surely hoped I did.  Two wicked ass-thrashings in one day and I was going to need a butt transplant. 

Then jerk-off lad roars in my ear, nearly deafening me, and gushes an entire lake of cum into my pussy and all over the sheets.  Shit!  More laundry to do.

After he got up, gave my tit a painful jiggle and waltzed out, I washed up the bum and dewy hole and rushed out to serve Miss Elsie her tea and oral sex.  Just as I was reaching the soggy end of to my lady lick fest (she’s a squirter), Master Steven came into the room and ordered me to meet him in the living room when I was finished.  Well, I knew what that meant.  Yikes!  I slowed down my lingual lunch (and that’s all I was ever offered to eat in that house) until that bitch cracked me in the forehead with her saucer and told me to speed the fuck back up again. 

WHAM!  The first one almost took the skin off.  There was no screaming allowed, so I used that Lamaze breathing shit I learned when my sister was having a baby (and that couldn’t have been much more painful than this).  It didn’t really help much.  WHAM!  Jesus Christ!  My eyeballs practically shot into the next room.  This guy was as strong as he was ugly.  WHAM!  By now, the tears are streaming down my face.  After another five or six, I couldn’t think and I couldn’t see.  My ass was throbbing so badly, I could feel it touching the back of my neck. 

There was a small pause while Master Steven looked at his watch and then he pushed me onto the floor.

“You’d better go and get those groceries now.  I’ll finish up your punishment later.”

Finish up!?  This unhinged cunt should be in jail.  I swear, people could see my poor beleaguered cheeks glowing under my tiny skirt as I limped and staggered around the Safeway.  When I returned to Slap Happy Mansions, I received another six or eight teeth-looseners and then got dumped back onto the floor again.  A quick wash of the nether naughties while I cried my eyes out and then it was back to cleaning the entire downstairs.  Vacuuming and dusting and polishing.  Cleaning windows?  WTF?  I had never cleaned a window before in my entire life.  I mean, when your view is as shitty as mine is, why bother?  Four and a half hours I slogged away, doing the grossest things imaginable.  Hey, if I wanted to clean toilets, I wouldn’t pee into a Pyrex jug and pour it off my balcony.

By the time I had completed the housework and the food preparation, there was about 45 minutes to go before the guests arrived.  I was a hot stinky mess. 

“Come with me,” Master Steven commanded, as I placed the last radish mouse onto the crudités plate.  I was told to remove my uniform at the back door.  This didn’t sound good.  It was worse than I imagined.  No sooner had I stripped down than he shoved me out into the back yard.  He tossed me a cheap bar of soap, stolen from an even cheaper motel and informs me that I’m a sweaty, revolting whore, before turning the garden hose on me.  FUUUUUUCK!  This was worse than the spanking.  It was unimaginable, Admiral-Scott-having-a-shower cold.  Plus, they had a chain link fence.  Everyone and their mother was probably gawking at me as I was being frozen alive.  once I was able to catch my breath, I soaped up as quickly as I could.  He continued to me with the icy barrage until I lost all feeling in my fingers (my tits had shrunk to the size of Oxo Cubes.) and then he threw the hose down onto the ground, told me to turn it off and ambled away. 

When I got back inside, I was informed that I had 30 minutes to look like a human being again.  At least I think that’s what he said.  It was hard to hear him over my teeth chattering.

Miss Elsie glared at me sternly.  “You will not speak to any of our guests unless spoken to.  If they make a request, you are to fulfill it instantly.  Do you understand me?”
            “Y-y-y-y-y-y-y-yes M-m-m-m-m-miss.”  Curtsey.  Oh God. 

I did my hair up as well as I could and put my outfit back on just as the doorbell rang.  I think my vulva was still tucked up inside my vaginal canal, hiding from the cold, when I greeted the first to arrive.  They were an unremarkable couple but looked like supermodels compared to the two gorgons I was working for.  I curtseyed and showed them inside.  The wife lifted my skirt from behind. 

“My my, I see someone’s been a naughty girl,” she smirked.  I had gigantic red welts on both cheeks.  Those you can’t wash off.

“I shall try to be better behaved tonight, miss.”  Curtsy.

Things went as well as could be expected for about the first ten minutes.  I served drinks, didn’t talk to anyone and luckily, they didn’t request anything more than another shrimp on a cracker.  That’s when Master Steven turned on his 65 inch flat screen and there I was wanking for the whole room to see and hear.  Why oh why did I have to touch myself so many times?  That video (and it was crystal clear hi-def) was going to last the entire evening! 

You have no idea how mortifying it is serving people you don’t know drinks while a larger-that-life-sized video of you maniacally fingering yourself plays in the background.  Christ!  Did I really have to groan and moan that loud?  Yikes!  My “orgasm face” looks like I just drank big glassful of Sani Flush.  For shame!  Now I’ve got three fingers up inside me and I’m beating on my clit like it was the dinner bell at Kirsty Alley’s house.  

The woman who’d inspected my ass took some celery and cream cheese off my tray and smiled, “Your little performances have gotten my husband all excited.  Suck his cock and put him out of his misery.”

“Yes miss.”

I got onto my knees and unzipped his pants.  She was right, he was already hard but not so’s you’d notice, if you know what I mean.  Master David sipped his drink and talked to another guest as I took him into my mouth and I mean all of him.  No deep throating needed on this chucklehead.  I bobbed up and down on the end of his knob while he stared at the other me on television.

“And don’t spill any of his cum.  Those are new slacks.”

“She’s not much of a cleaner but she’s an adequate slut,” remarked Miss Elsie to the couple as I applied a little more suction and stroked the backside of his balls to hurry the process along.  Pow!  Out it came.  His dick may have been on the diminutive side but his balls were major sperm factories.  Gob after gob of gooey jism filled up the back of my throat as I swallowed and swallowed, trying to stay ahead of the tide.  If I coughed up any of it onto the carpet or his pants, I’d be in for another blistering hiding. 

It was while I was licking his nuts and shaft clean of any trace of spunk that I noticed all the other fellows in the room were peering over at me with that “hungry man” look in their eyes.  Sigh.  This had the makings of a very long night.

I got up off my knees and curtseyed.  “Thank you sir.” 

He zipped up his pants and asked for another whisky sour. 

When the drinks were served, Master Steven told me to take off my uniform.  I blushed bright scarlet with a subtle undertone of crimson as my work duds fell to the floor.

“Bend over the couch and stick that saggy ass of yours up in the air.”

I complied (though, I have a great ass).  The men all gathered behind me and the women made themselves comfortable in front.  I heard the rattle of a belt buckle, a zipper being yanked down and the slap of a palm-full of K-Y between my legs and then apparently, I was open for business.

The first “gentleman caller” jammed his johnson up into my hole.  No condoms in this household.  Everyone else was talking about sports and movies they’d seen while Mr. No. 1 was hammering his hips into my sore butt cheeks.  I was just trying to avoid flying face first over the sofa.

The Wives Club all glowered at me as their husbands took turns doin’ the dog.  And behind the grim-face girls, was “other me” having her fifteenth wank of the evening.

I heard a big moan as my anonymous lover pumped his dump into my fallopian tubes.  “Thank you sir,” I heard myself say as he pulled himself out.  I have absolutely no idea what I was supposed to be grateful for but I didn’t really have much time to mull over my reasoning.  A second idiot had shoved his pecker northward within seconds.  My couchie had become the O’Hare airport of vaginas.  

As he was thrashing away inside my sauce receptacle, one of those delightful gals came up and jiggled my tits.  “What do you know?  They’re real.”  The other old crones giggled with delight. 

Boom.  The second guy spackled my insides.  The third aft applicant was somewhat of pleasant surprise.  He was sporting some serious lap lumber and he knew how to use it.  Could it be?  Was I actually getting a little turned on at this “self-esteem massacre?  Ooh yeah, baby.  I wondered which one of those gloomy bitches was lucky enough to have this piece of beefcake in her boudoir.  Now, I’m grinding back against him, giving him the VIP treatment during his visit.  Perhaps I was a little too responsive.  Just as I was working myself up to a pre-cum clench…BAM!  Big Boy emptied his sack sludge into my girlie gulch and, just like that, it’s all over.  Shit! 

Then it got worse.

Instantly, another schlong made itself at home.  “Who the fuck is left back there?” I wondered.  It was only when I heard “the girls” cheering Master Steven on that the true horror of my situation became apparent.  I was still pretty revved up from my last visitor and dipshit’s dong was bringing me back up to a boil, whether I liked it or not.  The last thing I wanted was to cum in front of all those cheering wrinkled shitbags with him inside me.  I tried thinking about baseball – that seems to work for guys.  Nope.  The clench was back with a vengeance. 

“Fuck her!  Fuck her!  Fuck her!” yelled the crowd.  They started throwing ice cubes at me.  Another couple of thrusts and all was lost.  I couldn’t believe I was actually having a climax around that malignant mutant’s mommy-maker.  As much as I tried to disguise the clitoral storm that was raging between my legs, and everyone could tell.

“Look!  The slut’s cumming!” yells one guffawing old goat.  

“Look at that expression on her face!”

Everyone starts falling over themselves laughing and pointing as I just continue to spasm in my chasm.  It was almost like the shame and disgrace added to the intensity of the orgasm.  The more I wanted it to stop it, the longer it kept on going.  My knees started to wobble.  I was determined not to let out any moans but my heavy breathing caused me make these weird snorting sounds.  Well, didn’t the girls just love that? Harridans!  Finally, mercifully, the staggering waves rippling through me began to ebb and Idiot-Breath fired off his round.  Schluppp!  He was out of me and wiping his dick clean on my thigh before I could even blink.

“Silly bitch.”  He pointed at the floor.  “And clean all this up, you’re leaking.”

I never did get my uniform on again.  I serve them drinks naked and had to eat out every single woman before they all fucked off home.  Well, except for me.  I had to do all the dishes and clean up the trash.  It was 3:30 in the morning before I finished.  They said, if I decided I didn’t want to walk home when I was done, I could sleep on the floor in the vestibule.  Apparently, it was okay for me to get gang-banged on the couch but not to sleep on it.

The only good news to come out of that whole psycho circus is Mr. Big Dick and his wife want me to do maid work at their house twice a week.  I just hope Master Tony doesn’t spank me before my ass bruises heal.

book number one

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