The Cleaning Lady
Chapter 30

Copyright© 2001 by Janet Dean

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 30 - Carol Hargreaves takes on a whole new career after she inadvertantly kills one of her co-workers one night and this acts as an introduction to a dark world that she never knew existed but where her talents and her enjoyment of the perverse are given free rein...

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Consensual   NonConsensual   Coercion   Lesbian   Heterosexual   TransGender   Cheating   BDSM   MaleDom   Spanking   Light Bond   Humiliation   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Water Sports  

Standing aside to allow his wife/Mistress into the room where he was supposed to be mounting a surveillance from, Ian swept his arm around. "It's not much... but it does for what Max and I need," he apologised.

"And it will do for what I want too. Take your clothes off."

"What? Now?"

His wife's face clouded over with anger. "Are you answering me back, worm?" she demanded.

"No! No, of course not, Mistress! Right away, Mistress!" Swinging the door shut, Ian hurried to obey, much to the amusement of Lydia who deposited the bag she'd been carrying onto the floor as she watched.

Once Ian had stripped naked, his wife instructed him to put his underpants on over his head. "Make sure the bit where your cock sits is over your nose. I want you to smell your own filthy juices. And then hold your arms over your head as far as you can reach, fingers together."

With his y-fronts over his face, Ian could just about see through the legs holes as his wife disrobed, leaving herself wearing only a pair of boots. Then, from the depths of her bag she produced a short cat-o-nine tails, the sight of which had Ian quaking in trepidation and excitement, his cock already rising. Taking up a position to her husband's left, Lydia rather inexpertly swung the whip, the thongs landing across his buttocks without as much force as she would have liked but still with enough to cause him to wince. "Thank me, worm!"

"Thank you Mistress."

"Beg me for another."

"Please, Mistress, may I have another?"

The whip swung again, this time the leather biting into Ian's back, his prick pulling up a few more degrees, a reaction that was matched by a dampening deep inside Lydia's pussy. The third blow caused Ian to come to full erection while the fourth milked him of a full load of spunk which arched across the room before spraying over the floor. "You fifthly pig!" his wife screamed, "How dare you make a mess like that? Get down on your hands and knees and lick it all up!"

Ian turned to face his wife, his hands starting to lower. "Oh, come on, pet... enough's enough. It was fun but you don't seriously expect..."

Lydia's knee making violent contact with Ian's balls caused him to stop speaking while, simultaneously, his eyes popped and then his hands flew to protect his injuries. "How dare you talk to me like that, you piece of shit! This isn't a game - it never was. You've got two choices - you get out of my house and my life... or you remain my slave and do all I tell you. Now, what's it to be?"

Blinking the tears out of his eyes, one hand still cupping his bruised testicles, Ian Smythe silently got down onto his knees before lowing his face to the floor where he started to lick his bodily fluids back up and to swallow them. Deep down inside himself, a small part of his id fought back... but was quickly overcome by his sex drive that had just risen to new heights... not that his reproductive organs were capable of carrying anything out at the moment but that didn't seem to matter right now. Ian had finally found his true vocation - that of a fawning slave...

Smiling in victory, Lydia sat down on one of the chairs and, spreading her legs, she slowly inserted the thick handle of the whip into her pussy before beginning to ease it in and out of herself. The sight of her husband cowering before her had just got to be the most potent aphrodisiac she had ever come across...


(This section kindly written for my by my good friend, soul_jewel_of _lw. If you enjoy her style of writing, be sure to check out here own work here on Stories On Line.)


Apart from the thin strip of sunlight that seemed like a harsh slash across the cold concrete floor, the room was dim. It smelt sourly of stale urine and vomit and was only sparsely furnished with a rickety old chair and a table that leaned decidedly to the left. The single naked globe of a low wattage dusty bulb swung like a pendulum from the ceiling. In the corner of the room, a cheap foam mattress covered with a tatty, dirty sheet seemed to leer at Carol as she was propelled roughly in the by the Lieutenant who, at last, removed his digit from up her arse.

He silently cuffed Carol to the chair, over tightening the metal teeth that held her wrists behind her back as he loved nothing more than seeing her eyes look up to him with that pleading puppy dog expression. The coarse material of her prison uniform did little to hide the lushness of her body and while prison food had knocked off a few pounds from her frame, he didn't mind for, unlike most African males, he preferred his women thin. The metal chain that he looped around her neck held her head in place before he wove it expertly around her waist and down to encircle her ankles.

He sneered at her as he breathed his fetid breath into her face. "Slave," he snarled quietly, his pink tongue wiggled obscenely against the ebony of his face, snaking out between yellowing teeth to lick wetly across her face, smearing his saliva across her cheek. "My little fucking white trash slave," his voice low and menacing as again her licked, leaving rivulets of drool trickling down her cheek.

Carol fought against the chains to free herself from his debased gesture, her struggles only serving to ensnare her tighter. In desperation she fell back upon the one defiant gesture that was left to her - she spat at him, the gob of spittle striking him squarely across his broad flat nose. She never saw the pink palm of his hand coming that slapped her face, her head jerking back at the stinging slap, sending blinding colours exploding into her brain.

Carol awoke slowly with the feel of liquid splashing against her face. Her head spun in a brain numbing whirlwind while she was vaguely aware of his voice, his shrill harsh laughter as again a stream of liquid hit her face. "Open slave," was all she registered as her eyes flew wide to see her tormentor, holding his huge black cock erect and proud, spurting hot jets of piss towards her flushed face. As droplets of his urine dappled at her dull prison uniform, the acrid stench of him rose to her nostrils and Carol began to regret her offer to serve this animal in any way he pleased. As her tears fell silently, mixing with his foul juices, her journey into his depraved mind was only just beginning.

Carol watched through narrowed tear swollen eyes as he zipped up his trousers before patting at his crotch with a lewd wink to her as he noticed her staring. Her mind clicking over wondering how he got all of his huge thick cock tucked into the tight confines of his trousers. "Want more slave?" he asked, grabbing at his genitals suggestively and thrusting his hips against her face. "Wanton little slut, aren't you, whore?" His spittle landing onto her cheek as her laughed before calling her his slave once more. Carol wanted to die, and she cringed inside from what she knew she would be put through, as thoughts of home and a comfortable bed beckoned her, teased her as she felt the sudden tugging of her lanky greasy hair. "Watch my eyes, bitch," tormentor demanded.

 
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