Special Services – Day 4

Special Services – Day 4

It’s incredible how a man you have never seen can possess you as he does. Your mind, your soul. Each and every movement is now dedicated to your looking forward to him. Doing things that you never did before, that you never cared for, it’s now simply part of your life.

A paid pleasure you can’t already live without. A girl, made into a slut that doesn’t provide sexual services, that’s what you feel you are. And strangely, you have no problems with it. Your vision of the world has changed, and in any case, you would have never accepted such a job if you were the scrupulous type.

It’s with this state of mind that you approach your fourth day of work at the mansion. You cleaned yourself – of course – but again, you haven’t shaved your pussy. You hope it’ll be bare at his sight again, today, and you want it to be natural, sexy. The man has that aura, you feel he likes it like that. And in any case, it takes 10 minutes to trim it, days to grow such a nice bush.

When you arrive at the mansion and enter the changing room, though, you realise you did a huge mistake. The bra you bought is too small. It squeezes your tits so much it hurts, and yet you can’t avoid to wear it.

“Good morning, Sir,” you politely say.

“Good Sunday, Lucy. Today you’ll finish the last part of the second line of shelves. You may commence.”

Unfortunately, even climbing the ladder turns out to be a problem, with the iron parts of the bra carving your flesh every time you move your arms. You sigh in pain.

The armchair is already turned towards you, the man is watching you. He must notice something is wrong because he asks:

“Are you feeling well, Lucy? Did you solve yesterday’s problem?”

Sir, about yesterday’s problem, I took the liberty of not wearing any panties today. I hope Sir would not mind,” you say politely. You wanted it to be a surprise, but also you don’t want him to think you do as you want, without telling him.

Mr Black doesn’t say anything, anyway, apart from a slight humming that seems to you to approve your choice.

“But Sir, I made a mistake today,” you say, but soon wonder how to continue.

“Which mistake, Lucy?”

“I… I brought a bra that is too small for me. And it hurts. I think… it may be hurting my flesh as I stretch my arms to clean.”

“And?” he asks, he knows you aren’t finished. You always propose a solution, when you complain about something.

“And I thought… would it be bad, if I remove my bra, too?”

“Go ahead.”

His answer is so quick: he must have imagined what you were going to ask, he must have desired it, maybe. You feel a shiver down your spine when you reach to your back and unlock your bra, letting it slide down your shoulders and on the floor.

You’re naked now, in front of him. Only your scanty maid outfit covering your ass and pussy, containing part of your huge breasts that – otherwise – are completely visible beyond the black transparent fabric.

But he is behind you, he can’t see them. He can’t see how they fall, he can’t see how your already hard nipples – yes, telling him you are panty-less made you horny already – are rubbing against your outfit every time you stretch your hand back and forth to clean the shelf.

Yet, you think he can see at least the side of them when you bend down to pick up the books you previously left on the pile, and your huge bosom falls towards the ground.

Yes, he can definitely see them. But why isn’t he jerking-off, then? You feel disappointed: you came to tease him, but today it doesn’t seem you can get him into the right mood. Even as you climb the ladder up to clean the upper shelves – and you are sure he can see your pussy now, as you stick your ass towards him – there is no trace of the usual sound that accompanies your cleaning session.

“Is anything wrong, Sir?” you ask at some point because you just feel something it’s wrong.

Will it be my last day here? Is he already tired of me? All these questions remain unanswered. He doesn’t speak for a while until you hear him standing up and leaving the room.

“Do the last shelf,” he orders exiting the room.

The shiver you feel now is not pleasant. You have to do everything to fight back the tears that start wetting your eyes, fogging your sight. But you do continue cleaning until the last shelf is almost finished. It’s then – when you are half at re-filling it with the books – that Mr Black returns.

His silhouette enters the room and you instinctively, quickly divert your sight from him. You know it’s forbidden, he doesn’t want you to look at him, and you can’t do it. Even if it’s your last day, you can’t do it. You’re there to clean and to provide him with a nice show, nothing more.

And yet the show doesn’t work today. You feel all the sexiness of the past days leaving you at once, and you’re back to the insecure, ugly, lonely girl you’ve always thought to be.

“Here, take this.”

His voice co close behind you starts you, you almost fall from the ladder, and you almost turn around, what a risk! But you see his extended arm, and a hand in front of your eyes, close to your breast, holding a piece of sterile gauze that seems soaked in pink disinfectant.

You don’t understand. Why is he giving you that? What are you supposed to do with it?

“There, for your breasts,” he adds, waiting for you to grab the gauze.

Only then, when you look at the side of your breast, you see a small rivulet of blood had stained your maid outfit. Your bra hurt you, and you didn’t even realise it.

Suddenly, you realise the reason behind the strange behaviour of the man. Your face turns red in a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. He must have noticed you were bleeding at some point, he must have wondered what to do, before deciding to act.

It’s not easy to fight back the tears of relief that waters your eyes now; eventually, you manage to. But you don’t take the gauze, yet.

Sir…” you begin.

“Yes, Lucy?”

“Would you do it for me?”

Silence.

“May I turn around, Sir?”

“No.”

“If I close my eyes?”

Silence. But it’s already past the point of non-return. You step off the ladder, close your eyes, and don’t wait for an answer to turn around.

Even with your eyes closed, you feel his gaze on you. He must be staring at your breasts, now, almost naked, free in front of his eyes for the first time. And he knows you’re willingly showing them to him. Is he feeling the same goosebumps I feel? You wonder when your skin gets covered in goosebumps that aren’t caused by the cold. Then, you let the straps of your maid outfit fall down your shoulder, until your tits are completely naked, in front of him.

He doesn’t speak, and for a couple of seconds doesn’t act either. Only after a while, here the sound of him preparing the gauze, and then the soft touch of the wet textile on the side of your breast.

“Ouch!” you complain.

“Does it hurt that much?” he asks. You wonder how such a sweet old man ended up being alone.

“It’s ok… it just… burns.”

Then, as he cleans the blood and disinfects the little wound, you begin to feel a light breeze on your breast, too. You smile, realizing the old man is blowing on your wound to ease your burning.

“Mmmm…” you pretend to moan. Fact is, you’re not much excited now, but feel overwhelmed by feelings. This man is treating you like a princess, not like the whore he may think you are. And the touch of his hand mixed with the cold hair of his breath is sending you chills everywhere.

That’s why you moan, to let him hear you feel OK with it, to let him know he can continue.

“Done!” he says, retracting his hand from your body. And this time you feel a wave of disappointment. You want his hands on you, you want him to touch you, to discover you.

Sir,” you call.

“Yes, Lucy?”

“It still burns.”

“It’ll soon stop.”

An awkward silence falls between you two, but he doesn’t move: he stays there, in front of you, and you know he’s looking at your naked body.

Sir…”

“What?”

“Can you give me the gauze?”

“Here it is,” he says, placing the gauze in your hand. At that moment, you act: you take his hand, then his wrist, and you pull it to you, to your chest. Finally, his hand is touching your bare breast. You breathe heavily, aware of that contact, aware of that old, rough skin touching your naughty parts for the first time.

“Lucy, I can’t…”

“Is it written anywhere in the contract?” you ask.

“It is.”

“Oh… fuck… I should read it better next time,” you complain, but don’t release the grip on his hand, that is still touching your chest.

“And what if I say it hurts there, too?”

“We can’t. I’m old, I’m-”

“Shh…” you hush him, tentatively looking to his mouth and placing a finger on his lips.

“Just cure me, Sir.”

You grab his hand and you start fondling your breast, you take his fingers and place them on your hard nipples, you let him enjoy your excitement, moaning louder each time he touches your sensitive spots. And then you feel it, your pussy lips opening, your juices flooding your thighs, and you know you’ve never been so excited in your life.

Sir…” you ask Mr Black. He is now caressing your breasts in silence, but there’s no need for your hand to guide him anymore.

“Lucy…?”

For the first time, you feel uncertainty in his tone.

“I think… I think I may be hurt a little lower, too.”

“Here?” he asks, sliding his hand on your stomach. Your head spins, at the thought of his fingers getting closer to your wetness.

“Lower, Sir…” your voice is broken by the excitement, your body already wriggling in anticipation for what you need the most, now.

“Here?” he asks, his hand a little below your stomach, grazing your mound.

“Here, Sir.”

And again, you take his hand and, this time, you place it between your legs.

Gosh, the pleasure you feel when he tentatively slides a finger between your parted lips, when he starts playing with your exposed pussy and you spread your legs more, to ease his contact, to rub your clit on his palm as he tries to violate you with his old fingers.

“Are you sure, Lucy? You’ve never even seen me.”

“I don’t need to see you, I need you to please me.”

Then you suddenly realize you forgot to address him properly.

“…Sir.

He doesn’t speak anymore. He caresses your lips, your clit, your ass, with such expert fingers you wonder where he learnt to do it. Each touch is a new sensation, each teases a step forward to your approaching orgasm.

“There, yes, Sir… it hurts so much… it needs… your care… please, Sir… take care of me…”

You beg, your legs trembling so much you have to lean your back against the shelves not to fall.

When his fingers enter into you, when he begins pumping them inside your wet cunt, you’re already past your limit, and close to your climax.

“Fuck… fuck… Sir… yes… make love to my pussy… oh god… fuck my horny cunt…”

You hear your dirty words from afar, your mind fogged by the pleasure that is now filling you, by the pressure that is soon going to find a way out of you. It’s not you, talking. And yet – just a second before your orgasm pervades you – you realize it is the real you exposing itself to a man, for the first time ever.

Your muscles tighten, your pussy screams in pleasure, and you moan loudly as the waves of a strong orgasm hit you. Mr Black continues caressing your clit and pussy for a while in what seems, to you, a way to gather your juices in his hands more than a tender after-sex cuddle. But it’s OK: you got your pleasure, you want him to get something for himself, too.

Only then, you decide to try to push it a little further.

Sir…” you ask.

“Lucy?”

“You take care of me so well, please let me exchange the favour,” you say kneeling in front of him, and looking for his crotch with your hand.

When you reach his crotch, you realize his cock is already out, naked. This time, he says nothing as you slide your fingers on his wet tip, as you try to carve in your memories the shape of that cock that you may never see.

You get closer, you feel its scent, the smell of his needy cock. And then you begin stroking it, giving small, tender lick to its tip each time his skin uncovers it. You hear his moans, and you enjoy the powerful feeling of holding a man’s pleasure in your hands.

And then you engulf his cock with your mouth and discover you can’t take it all inside you, because it’s bigger than it felt. But you suck nonetheless, you lick its tip, shaft and balls, and again you suck his dick as passionately as you can.

“Lucy…”

“Mmm…” you just say, sealing your lips around his tip.

“Mmm… Lucy… mgggh…”

He grabs your head trying to pull you away, but you put your hands on his butt and keep his buried deep inside you. When his first spurt of cum arrives, you know what’s coming. You smelled it already, you had small tastes of if on his handkerchief… and now, finally, it’s yours to eat.

Mr Black moans, now pushing his hips to you as he discharges his load of spunk inside your mouth. He cums for long… you think he may have waited for you for days, for the entire week maybe, because it’s so much you can’t handle it. But you’re happy there’s so much to eat, to taste.

When he finally stops pumping your throat, you let his cock out and seal your lips as you swallow everything he gave you.

Then you stand up and turn around. When you open your eyes, the light almost blinds you.

“Finish it, and leave.”

The only words he says before leaving the room, have a tender vein that you have never heard before, from him.

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