Golden Submission

The next day was to be a very busy one. It started as usual with me, dressed in a little satin apron, bringing my wife/Mistress her early morning cup of Earl Grey tea. While she sat sipping her drink, looking utterly beautiful, propped on her satin pillows in the luxurious four-poster bed, she watched me perform my daily duties. To start with I collected from the floor where she had dropped them yesterday's discarded panties and stockings.

"Your stripes from last night still show up very well, slave," she observed, looking at my striped buttocks, "It will take a few days for those marks to go way."

"Yes, Mistress," I replied humbly.

"You had better not give me reason for another caning, had you?"

"No, Mistress,"

"You will still get a caning, if you deserved it, whether you had marks there already or not. Understand?"

"I understand, Mistress."

It is at this point every morning that my Mistress unlocks my penis-restrainer, in order that I may wash myself thoroughly. I have to shower in her personal bathroom with the door left open. She says she would not like her slave to do anything other than just wash himself. She often pops her head round the shower door to make sure that I am just washing and not spending longer than is absolutely necessary while cleaning my penis. Then my restrainer is locked back on.

"Is there anything else you require, Mistress?" I asked, clutching her laundry and hesitating before leaving her presence.

"Nothing else, slave."

I had waited momentarily, because quite often first thing in the morning she has me lick her to orgasm. That service was not required today and I could guess why. Grant, one of her boyfriends, was coming over for the evening. Without doubt she was saving her orgasms for him.

I was dismissed and went to prepare breakfast for my Mistress and to do the hand-laundry of her lingerie. There was an extra item to wash today -- my wife's girlfriend, Tina, had given me a pair of her panties to hand-launder, iron and return to her house today by 3pm.

As usual I squeezed five oranges by hand to make the breakfast drink for my Mistress. Passion fruit had to be sliced and placed neatly in her bowl of muesli. While she ate, I stood to attention beside the breakfast table, in case I might be of service to my Goddess during her breakfast. At first she ate in silence, reading the newspaper I had ironed for her. After a few minutes she looked up from the paper and addressed me.

"What have you got to today, slave?" she asked in a friendly manner.

I replied, "I have to make your bedroom immaculate for Grant's visit this evening, Mistress, with new satin sheets and fresh flowers in the vases. Then there are my usual laundry duties and I need to go shopping for the ingredients of your candle-lit dinner, which I shall be preparing and serving to you this evening. I have also to deliver Madam Tina's ironed panties to her house."

"Yes, you do," said my Mistress, "Tina seemed quite impressed by your oral attentions yesterday. She'll probably want your tongue again today."

"Would that be in order, Mistress?" I enquired nervously.

"No, it would not," replied Belinda, "such things are allowed to happen only under my supervision."

"Yes, Mistress."

She ordered me to lay out her work clothes. It was to be a day at the office for her. Alluringly pulling on her lemon satin panties, she enjoyed doing a sort of reverse striptease for me. She further excited her slave by getting me to adjust her lace-top hold-up stockings, so that their wicked black seams were perfectly straight.

I was changing the bed linen, making sure that the satin sheets were neat and tidy, when I heard her drive away. She had taken the sports coupé as usual. She chooses the big black saloon only when I -- in my chauffeur's uniform -- am driving it for her.

I put some freesias in the vase on the bedside table, cleaned the bath and vacuumed all the carpets in the house. Since her lover was coming for the evening, everything had to be perfect for the woman I worshipped. I knew it was madness, but as a man devoid of religion, I needed a deity and Belinda had become that deity. As my Goddess, she could do as she wished with me. Nothing would stop my fervent adoration of her. And she knew it.

It was two thirty by the time I had finished all my household chores. I hurried to Tina's house and presented my newly-ironed laundry for her inspection.

Immediately on my arrival at her house, she ordered me to strip naked and kneel before her.

"Nicely ironed, slave-boy," was her comment, examining the white satin panties I had presented.

"Your Mistress was not happy yesterday, because that my aroma excited you, didn't it, slave?"

"Yes, Madam," I replied, kneeling before her, as she sprawled in an armchair.

"Do you think her 'aversion therapy' was effective? Do you think the caning she gave you has stopped you being excited by my pheromones?"

"I don't know, Madam."

"Well. We shall have to find out, shan't we?" Tina giggled, easing down her panties and stuffing the crotch of them under my nose. With her other hand she grabbed my cock, which immediately tried to grow within the confines of its restrainer.

"The treatment does not seem to have worked, slave. Does it?" she mocked.

"No, Madam."

"Well, that can be our secret for now. You happen to have arrived at a very convenient time for me. I have arranged to have phone-sex with a boyfriend in the next few minutes. Instead of me having to pleasure myself while I talk to him on the phone, I can have your tongue do the job instead."

"I do not think my Mistress would wish me to do that, Madam," I replied nervously.

"Are you questioning my commands?" she asked, annoyed at my impudence, "You, a mere slave?"

"No, Madam. I just, er, I wasn't quite sure..."

"Well, I command and you obey!" she laughed, "Fetch me the telephone and kneel ready to please me."

A few minutes later I was doing my best to satisfy her orally, while she "talked dirty" to the boyfriend on the other end of the phone line. With her free hand she guided my head, indicating the pressure she wanted from me and where my tongue should go in order to maximise her pleasure.

"Are you rubbing that lovely big cock of yours?" she asked the boyfriend in a husky, panting voice, "Don't you wish your cock was in me? I do. I'm just having to make do with my fingers," she said giving my hair an extra tug, pulling me yet closer into her dripping wet pussy, as I lapped obediently at her glistening lips.

"This is beautiful," she gasped down the phone to her remote lover, "I'm so nearly there. Are you? Make it happen at the same time as for me. Now! Now!"

When she finally came, her juices formed a massive gush. The warm liquid filled my mouth and ran down my chin.

She pushed my head away. She had no further use for me.

She dismissed the boyfriend almost as quickly as hse dismissed me.

"Well done, pantie slave," she told me.

"I think that's a good name for you, 'Pantie Slave'. From now on you will have to take care of the washing and ironing of all my intimate garments. I'm sure Belinda wouldn't mind. Take my laundry home with you."

She flung her worn panties and a pair of stockings at my face.

"Yes, Madam."

By the time my wife/Mistress got back from work, all the housework has been done and I was able to attend to her personal needs. First I had to massage her feet. When I had done this with my fingers for a few minutes, I was ordered to lie on my back on the floor. She placed her feet on my upturned face and I worshipped her toes with my tongue and lips.

When she tired of that, she rose and -- while I still lay on the floor -- she undressed in front of me, dropping her panties on to my face, so that I could inhale her divine aroma.

After a few seconds she pulled the silken garment away from my nose and squatted down over me.

"I think my pussy hair needs a little trim, slave. Do you think my lover would like it a bit shorter?"

"As far as I am concerned, it is perfection to look at as it is, Mistress" I replied.

"We are not talking about what pleases you, slave. We're talking about what will please Grant."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Gaze at it, slave," she whispered, caressing her pussy and - as she did so - she released some drops of her salty piss on to my adoring face, saying:

"Dab me dry, slave. Then run my bath. You will do a little pussy-trim for me after the bath."

Even with the blunt-tipped baby-scissors, trimming the pubic hair of my Mistress was a nerve-racking business. Being so very close to the glory of her sex excited me greatly. A shaky hand could cause an accident. But I completed the task without mishap and she declared herself pleased with the result.

"Just how Grant likes it," she commented, looking in the mirror.

Then she tried on various items of lingerie, before she was happy with her appearance. The rejected items were chucked to the floor and I knew that it would be my task to wash and iron each garment - even though it had been worn for only a few seconds - before placing it back on her lingerie shelves. Finally she settled on a pale peach, satin and lace set, which included a garter-belt -- something she never normally wears.

"Grant likes them," i was told.

I had to roll her stockings very carefully on to the delectable legs of my Mistress and then attach the suspenders to the lace stocking-tops. I was so close to her, that I could catch her sweet natural feminine aroma, as I went about my humble task. I was kneeling in front of her, adjusting the final clip, when she parted her legs and pulled my face into her soft satin-covered crotch.

"Grant and I are going to do some beautiful fucking tonight, slave," she told me.

"Yes, Mistress," was my muffled reply.

Two hours later I opened the front door to admit Grant, my wife's lover.

"Good, evening, sir," I said respectfully.

"Hi, slaveboy. Help me off with coat."

I did as I was bid and told him that my Mistress was waiting for him in the sitting room.

"Get me a white wine."

"Yes, sir."

I brought glasses of chilled Chardonnay on a small silver tray for him and my Mistress.

Grant looked up from his embrace with Belinda and said to her.

"I think your slave is a bit overdressed in that dark suit, isn't he?. Something more humiliating would be more appropriate, don't you agree?"

"Yes, darling," she replied, kissing him on the lips. She turned to me.

"Go to your room and come back dressed only in those purple satin panties I made you buy at the supermarket."

"You should have seen the check-out girl giggle, when he prsented his purchase to her!" she told her boyfriend.

The panties I was made to wear certainly made Grant laugh, when I re-entered the room in those purple satin French knickers with black lace trim.

To their hoots of laughter I was made to strut up and down like a catwalk model.

And that is how I was dressed, as I served their meal and poured their wine, until -- that is - my Mistress ordered me to lower my panties, in order that she could show her lover how inadequate my penis was. She flicked it with a red fingernail that I had so lovingly painted earlier.

"Well! What am I supposed to do with that thing?" he asked Grant, plunging her free hand between his legs, "when I have this as the other option?"

Towards the end of the meal I was ordered upstairs to make the bed ready for their forthcoming love session. I adjusted the flowers in the bedside vase, pulled back the satin top-sheet and adjusted the lighting to an attractive low level.

I opened the bottle of champagne I had brought upstairs and carefully placed it in the silver ice bucket next to the two crystal flute glasses on the bedside table for them to pour as required.

But they did not pour the champagne for themselves. Instead, I was summoned to the bedroom some twenty minutes later to do the pouring for them. I kept my eyes lowered respectfully, as I passed the glasses to them. I then busied myself, collecting their clothes and underwear, which had been scattered over the bedroom floor. While I was doing that my Mistress addressed me.

"Would you like to taste the juices of your Mistress's pussy, slave?" she asked teasingly.

"Of course, Mistress," was my stumbling reply, "it would be an honour."

"Well now, isn't that convenient!" she said. "You'll be able to taste my juices on Grant's cock, when you suck him off. You know it makes me gag, doing that. And Grant is so keen to have a blow-job."

"Yes, Mistress."

Grant pulled back the silken sheet, revealing his huge, glistening erection. I knelt beside the bed.

"Do a good job, boy," he commanded, reaching over to play with Belinda's pussy, while I directed the head of his huge cock into my mouth.

I tried to recreate the actions that I remembered from earlier times, when various girlfriends had sucked my cock. I ran my tongue and lips down the shaft of Grant's cock. I kissed his balls, still glistening with the lovers' combined juices from their recent love-session. His penis was so large, that it did not seem possible for me to take more than its top into my mouth, but Grant was not happy with that. He grabbed my head and forced himself deeper into me.

I felt the head of his cock expand inside my mouth as his acid pre-cum hit my taste-buds. After a few seconds he began to writhe and a jet of his semen shot straight down my throat. There was no option about swallowing. It just happened. He bucked in ecstasy, as -- at the same time - I heard Belinda's excited orgasm shriek - the result of his deft fingering.

The lovers both collapsed back on the bed after their climaxes. I lay down on the carpet beside the bed with tears in my eyes, wondering how what had begun as a 'normal' marriage had reached this degree of degradation for me. But I was addicted to this way of serving and worshipping my Goddess - my incomparable wife.

But they had not finished with me.

I was called upon to refill their glasses with the remains of the champagne. They lay naked and glistening in post-coital repose on the satin sheets, sipping from the crystal flutes.

Belinda looked at me, then at Grant.

"I suppose he has earned a treat," she said to her lover, smiling.

"What sort of treat does he get?", asked Grant.

"Watch this!" was her reply to him. She snapped her finger and thumb.

"Assume the position, slave!" she commanded.

I knew what that meant and arranged myself in the extraordinary pose that was necessary, when my 'treat' was to be received in this way. It meant lying on my back so close to the wall that it was my shoulders which took all my weight, while my buttocks were up the wall with my legs splayed out above them.

When she was satisfied that I was positioned as required, Belinda moved forward, removed my apron and then undid the buckles on my cock-restrainer. Her beautiful, soft hands started to caress and massage my newly-released cock, in a way that only she knew.

It had been several days since I had been allowed an orgasm and my head was filled with the recent experience of sucking Grant's cock, which I had both loved and hated. Loved, because it was the command of my Mistress, and hated, because I was heterosexual.

Wasn't I? I no longer knew. I was just the slave of my Mistress -- there to be of service to her in any way that might be of use to her or might amuse her.

Her hand worked its magic. I was approaching bliss.

"Mouth wide open, slave," She said teasingly. I obeyed. She guided my shaft into what She thought would be the right position.

"Go for bullseye, babe!" shouted Grant from the bed.

Belinda knew how to make me come.

After ten days of abstention, my orgasm was prolific. Belinda had grasped my cock in a way that she thought would direct the cum into my mouth, but her aim was not accurate. Some landed between my eyes and some on my chin.

"Oh. I missed!" she laughed, "What a mess your face is, slave. I think I am going to have to clean you up. Go to the bathroom and lie on your back on the floor. Grant, come and watch how I wash my slave's face!"

She stood over me and gave me a loving smile.

I lived for that smile.

"Anyone would find this hard to believe," she whispered, making sure that Grant would not hear her, "but you are the only man I love."

Then Her golden wine began to fall on to my face.

O, lucky slave.