The alarm went of at the usual 1:45 am. He stood and went into the bathroom to shower and shave. She didn't work on Sundays, but she got up, wearing one of his extra large t-shirts, and went into the kitchen to fry some country potatoes and toss together some leftover pork chops and a salad for his lunch. He came through the kitchen on the way to the front door, his security uniform making him look as handsome as ever. He wore a crisp, ironed shirt and a tie. The white shirt contrasted against his black skin. He was whistling. He stopped to give her a kiss and to slap her white ass. Her perky boobs filled out the shirt nicely. His eyes lit up as he gave her the once-over.

"When I get home from work, I want you to be ready to play," he said. He pinched her nipple hard.

She gasped. "Of course. Don't we always?"

"But today, I want you to be ready to play. I mean ready."

"What're you getting at?"

"I want the house clean so you aren't distracted."

"Okay." She didn't have a problem with that.

"I want your ass cleaned out."

She nodded. There were lots of times she did on Sunday mornings just because.

"I want your nails painted and your pussy rinsed."

"Gotcha." None of these orders were any big deal. They both had more fun when everything started out clean.

She turned away to tuck some napkins into his lunch.

"I wasn't finished giving you my orders." He said sternly.

She turned back to give him a look. He usually didn't order anyone around, least of all her. In fact, this whole list of things to do was quite out of character. "I'm sorry..." she said.

He pinched her tit harder. She gritted her teeth.

"I want dinner ready."

"Okay..." she said timidly. This really wasn't like him.

"Vacuum the floor."

She looked at him very strangely. What the hell was this?

"And dust everything. All 100 of those dishes and girly things. There will be a white glove test when I get home."

"What?" She studied the cupboard of tiny knickknacks and curios. She had over a hundred dishes and dolls on the shelves. "How am I supposed to dust all of them if I'm doing all the other things you asked me to do?"

She tried to twist away but he gripped her tit, too roughly this time.

"It takes over an hour alone for me to do the enema. You know that."

"You figure it out."

"And what if I can't do everything?"

"Then you shall be punished."

"Punished? What the hell do you mean?"

He cupped her tit in his hand and bent forward to take her nipple in his mouth through the cotton of her shirt. He bit it. Hard.

She thought she would have found all of this a little offensive. It was too demanding of him. It was too passive for her to stand there and take it. He had her nipple clenched between his teeth, and yes, it was hurting immensely. She tried to back away. He reached between her legs and jammed his fingers invasively, right into her cunt.

Yes, she was seeping wet.

"If you haven't done what I asked, then there is a separate torture for each offense."

"A separate torture for each offense?" She tried to imagine what he was thinking... Hot candle wax? Ramming his hand up her pussy? What exactly were the tortures he had in mind? He usually brainstormed quite inventive ways to force her body to new limits.

She mentally counted the tasks. He'd given her six things to take care of. No, seven. He wanted dinner when he came home.

She nodded, a devious smile playing on her lips. "So, do you want me to accomplish any of the things you asked, or do you want to spend the afternoon doing terrible things to my body?"

He laughed, then quickly caught himself. "You'd better do what I asked." He took his sack lunch and opened the front door. "Lock up. Oh, and after work, as soon as I unlock the door, I want to open it to find your legs spread and see you masturbating on the couch."

"How will I know when you're going to get here?" she asked. He often worked overtime on Sundays.

"You won't. So you'd better start playing at the earliest time you think I'll make it and continue until I arrive."

She giggled. This promised to be an interesting day. She could accomplish most of the things he had asked, but all of them? That was going to take a fair piece of work.

She locked the front door after he left. Where to start? She usually went back to sleep for a bit, but she'd better get her ass in gear (literally!) or he would have to think too hard to decide on eight different ways to torture her. She grinned. What if she lounged around and read a book? Nah. This sounded like too much fun. She didn't mind having a list of tasks to do. She loved a challenge.

She started with the enema. She never really knew how long it would actually take, but she enjoyed herself more if she had a couple hours afterward to recoup and for nature to absorb the extra moisture. She ran hot bath water into the tub, then filled the water bottle, attaching the white hose. She wet her hand and used the bar of soap to suds her asshole before inserting the nozzle. It slid inside, and she clenched against its invasion. She knelt in the tub, the red plastic bottle under her knee and used her weight to express the water through the hose and into her ass. She sighed as the water slowly filled her back cavity. She never held the first bottle very long.

A moment later, she stood to get out of the tub. Water dripped as she squatted on the toilet to push the water-and anything else-out. She flipped through a magazine and let nature take its course. She filled the water bottle again--nice warm water--and climbed back into the tub for round two.

By round three, her body got into it. The water rushed inside, the initial debris flushed out, and she invited the warmth all through her rectum. It flowed forward, expanding her intestine into the front part of her body. Her stomach cramped slightly as she waited for her body to adjust to the expanse of water. She'd found long ago that if she rubbed her clit while she filled herself to capacity with water, she could take more water and hold it longer. She'd also found that she could often climax with the water inside of her, or while she expelled the clean water into the tub. Sometimes she'd take her black dildo into the tub with her, fill the tub about half full, and fuck her cunt with the dildo while she waited to see if all the residue had worked its way out. Sometimes she'd finger fuck herself, using the soap to lubricate her pussy and ass, work the dildo into her asshole to make herself come and force anything left inside into the bathwater. Usually by round five, there wasn't anything left to come out, and the whole rigorous experience left her panting and eager for the ass fuck that was certain to come when her man got home and learned that she was there for the taking. There was something about her asshole that got him going. He really liked her asshole.

Anticipating the day's events made her as horny as ever. She worked her hips into a frenzied pace, jamming the black dildo, trying to take the edge off. The enema felt good. She cleaned the nozzle and stuck it into her cunt. Her vagina didn't hold the water, but she pressed the sides of the bottle to flush out the cavity. The water was cool, and the contrast from the heat of the bathwater was a rush. She pinched her clitoris forward and used her right hand to flick, flick, flick against the enlarged tip. It excited her to see it this way--like a miniature dick, waiting to be sucked.

If only she could suck it herself.

Try as she might, relief did not come. She splashed around in the water and gripped herself several times, trying to force a climax. Nothing. Nada. That wasn't like her! She could usually come on command! She glanced at the clock. Shit! It was already 4:00. She'd been messing with this enema far too long. She'd only finished two things on the list! She'd rinsed her ass and her pussy. What next?

She scrambled for a towel. She dried herself. Her fingers and toes puckered from being in the water so long, so she snatched the nail polish and remover from the cabinet--the next logical chore. She painted her fingernails deftly, then waved them around, blowing on them to dry. She didn't have time!

The house was a mess. He was right. When it was cluttered, it distracted her. She couldn't relax until it was clean. She couldn't cook and leave that mess either. She had to start with the dishes from making his lunch. It was too early to vacuum. The tenant in the next apartment liked to sleep late.

She rushed through the kitchen. It seemed like the more she scrubbed, the more contrast there was to the places she hadn't scrubbed, so she had to work fast and furious to get the job done. She polished the glass above the bathroom sink and sprayed the tub. She swept the floor into the rug. She'd get the crumbs with the vacuum in a bit. She glanced at her hands. She'd chipped her nails! They were as raggedy as ever after using the scrubber and messing with chemicals. She went back to the bathroom to do them again. The bed needed to be made. The vacuuming. Cooking dinner. There was still tons to do.

Inside the freezer there was nothing she wanted to eat. She pulled on some clothes and ran to the store. Thankfully, it was open 24 hours. She filled a blue basket and paid at the register. It was getting to be pretty late. She'd never get the cupboard clean. Never. Dusting her china went quick but not that quick. She liked to take a minute to polish each piece.

Her heart stopped when got back home from the store. His car was parked in the lot. He was home. How was that possible? She glanced at her watch. It wasn't even 9:30!

He was seated on the couch, his erect dick in his hand. "Where were you?" he asked gruffly.

"I had to get some things at the store," she mumbled. "I didn't think you'd be home."

"It was slow. They sent me home early."

That never happened. Not ever. How was she supposed to anticipate that?

He continued, "I had a chance to look over the house." He glanced at her small hands. "Well at least you painted your nails. Otherwise, it looks like you used the whole time to clean out your ass..."