When one hears the word "Mistress," the first thing that usually pops into his mind is a tall, slender brunette, clad in tight black leather and high-heeled boots. While I fit the physical description to a tee, the attire has never been my particular fancy. I'm more of a plain-clothes Mistress, thick cotton name-brand sweats to be exact.
I conduct an aerobics class two days each week at a local gym, where I am known by my girls as Coach Pain because I keep the heat cranked and we never stop moving. After an hour with me, each one of my students, as well as myself, is drenched with fresh perspiration. But while they practically crawl to the showers, I, being in top physical shape, hit the treadmill for at least a half-hour, the pace set at 8.5 mph.
I conduct my class on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. Before I get to the main point of my little story, I think a few more preliminary details are in order. First of all, after my shower after Tuesday's workout, I don't bathe again until after Thursday's workout. I put my same pink panties back on after Tuesday's shower. These same pink panties stay on for the next two days. They only come off when I need to use the bathroom or when my slaveboy husband fucks me.
I guess that's another area where I differ from many Mistresses. I don't pick up strange men in bars and bring them home to fuck in front of my husband while he stands in the corner like a sniveling worm. I love my husband. Yes, sometimes he must be punished severely for an infraction or two, and yes, often, I only require him to please me with his mouth. Like many slaves, he goes several days at a time without orgasm. But when I do want a cock inside of me, it is his that I want.
This happens every Wednesday night without fail. We fuck for hours to the point of exhaustion. I lose track of my orgasms. He has at least two, and sometimes three. After we are finished, my panties go back on to absorb the sweat from my bush, my pussy juice, and his cum as it oozes out of my hole. Well, that about does it. Now you have a vivid description of not only what I look like, but what I smell like after my Thursday workout. That's important for the story.
Thursday afternoon. 2:30 PM. As I walk through the door, he is waiting in his assumed position. That would be naked and kneeling, ready to serve his Mistress. I really don't like smelling this raunchy, but I intentionally let myself go for this weekly forty-eight hours as an on-going lesson in servitude for him.
"Hello, washcloth!" I say plainly, unzipping my sweat top and dropping it to the floor. "Good afternoon, Mistress," he cordially returns.
I kneel beside him, raise my right arm, and shove my armpit up to his face. Immediately, he opens his mouth wide, suctions it over my pit, and begins to suck me clean. I don't have to give him orders. My washcloth has been well-trained. Instead I nonchalantly rehash the details of the workout at the gym, how the girls are progressing, etc...I know how crazy this drives him: talking about such trivial things, while he serves me with his mouth. This continues as I reposition myself for my washcloth to clean my other armpit. He licks and sucks and swallows for several minutes on each side, until I am confident every last drop of sweat has been cleaned from me.
Next, I unsnap my black bra and teasingly move my breasts back and forth, almost touching his lips. He does not lick them. He knows better. He knows what a severe paddling he will receive if he even kisses a nipple. I will wash my breasts myself in the shower in a little while. He is a lowly washcloth whose job is to clean the nastier parts of my body that I don't feel like washing myself.
Next I take off my tennis shoes and socks. I sit down on my favorite chair and he crawls to me. I raise my leg, and place the bottom of my right foot up to his face. He licks every square inch of the bottom of my foot thoroughly, over and over, from my heel to the tips of my toes. He sucks each toe, and licks between each. Again, when I feel he has done a perfect job, I offer him the other foot. Meanwhile I am usually talking on the phone with one of my girlfriends, you know, typical girl chat, as if having a human washcloth lick the bottoms of my feet was no more sensual than getting a manicure.
Finally I take off my sweat pants and those awful panties. I hold them up to my nose and take a little whiff. Whew!!! It's enough to make me gag, but then, I am a Mistress, and nothing is beneath my slave when it comes to serving me. I spread my legs wide, bend over, and begin my cool-down stretches. My slave again crawls to me, this time from behind. He knows not to lick the sweet, firm round cheeks of my ass, another part of my body that I will tend to myself momentarily. My washcloth knows exactly what to do.
Up and down the crack of my ass I feel his warm, wet, eager tongue. "Clean the crack of my ass nice, washcloth," I grunt as I stretch. "Two days of sweat and ass! You make sure it smells nice and clean when you're finished." He spends at least five minutes making sure my crack is clean while I stretch from side to side, grabbing my feet and pulling all the pain out of those sore calves and my lower back.
"Okay, wash my asshole now!" I tell him, as I grab both ankles and stretch to the middle. He sucks so wonderfully, sucking up all that smelly moisture, and swallowing every bit. He doesn't spit out a drop. Finally, I raise my torso and reach my hands back to stretch my cheeks. This is kind of awkward, but my only other choice would be to let my slave spread them with his hands, and I can't let that happen. Now my stinky little hole is wide open. "Inside now, washcloth. Stick that tongue in my asshole. Oh, yes. Put it in as deep as it will go."
For the next ten minutes I am in ecstasy, while his tongue cleans the absolute nastiest part of my body. He twirls it around inside, making huge circles. He takes it out, swishes, swallows, then rams it in again. It feels so nice to have him clean my asshole this way. Every few minutes, he presses his nose into my hole and takes a deep whiff. If it still smells even a little nasty, his tongue goes in again.
He stops when he feels he has done a satisfactory job. I have him go to the bathroom and retrieve a cotton swab. I take the cotton swab up and down the crack of my ass and then insert it into my hole. I take it out and sniff. It is usually clean, but if it is not, he endures an excruciating punishment enema, but that is another story.
Now we go to the bedroom. I lay on the bed, while my washcloth goes to brush his teeth and gargle. You know, I don't want any of those ass germs in his mouth while he cleans my pussy. I put on some music and float away while he washes my bush. As trained, every square inch. Sucking all that sweat, all that dry, crusty pussy juice and sperm that has matted my hair. Sucking, swallowing and blowing dry for several songs until my pussy bush is soft and sweet once more.
I sit up. I am so pleased with my washcloth, but so aroused at the same time. I just have to humiliate him a little. It keeps him in his place. I look down at that big, beautiful bulging cock, and as much as I want it, I can't help but pretend I don't.
"Do you want to fuck me?" I ask in mock astonishment.
"No, Mistress," he pleadingly promises, lowering his eyes.
