Life, for now at least, has found its equilibrium. I work four shifts at the cafe, and the rest of my time is free for pursuing my artwork and getting together with friends. At home, well, it’s what you might call a turnkey operation. I’m getting a sense of what the lives of 19th century landed gentry might have been like! I don’t cook, I don’t clean, I don’t do laundry. All these duties are happily performed by my houseboy, Duncan. Sweet little Duncan. He is a tireless and meticulous worker.
He is also an avid and devoted oral servant for me, now. He’s a natural, really. He needed some instruction, but most of what I wanted came to him easily. He had already shown a most worshipful attitude toward my anus, as you may recall, so we moved on from there.
My inclination is to have all of my body the object of veneration, and, so, I led Duncan from one part to another, reminding him always of the absolute imperative of honoring each part.
It turns out that this too came naturally to him. My belly, the backs of my knees, my hands. For each of these, Duncan became wholly absorbed, showing tenderness and great respect. That my body is quite nicely shaped - my legs long and smooth, my ass soft and sweetly rounded - helped in the process, no doubt, of bringing Duncan into his present state of unflagging servitude. All was locked in place, and I needed only to put him to use as my whims and desires dictated.
Naturally, we came to focus attention on my pussy. With slaves, a woman’s satisfaction comes from correct and dedicated oral service, and not (the very idea!) from anything involving the male organ. Unless I want to gauge its state of arousal, it is to stay out of sight. All I really need of a slave is his face between my thighs or between my ass cheeks. Believe me, this is all that a slave yearns for, as well!
So, to the task of servicing my cunt. (When I’m instructing him, I use this term because it makes him uncomfortable and it makes him aroused). Once dominance was established over Duncan through introducing him to the rest of my body, we came to that.
I recall well one of the early training sessions.
It was after dinner, and Duncan was busying himself with the dishes. I left the table, slipped out of my shorts and undies, and went to the kitchen. I wore just a halter top. While Duncan went on with his duties, I got a glass from the cabinet, and the cognac from the countertop. I turned to Duncan who, as he knew he must, was carefully avoiding looking at me in my state of undress.
“Duncan.” I said, and he turned to me without stopping his work.
“Yes, Miss Julie?”
“Duncan, once you’re done here, I will teach you how to pleasure my cunt.” I told him bluntly. “Don’t dally, now.” I said, and returned to the main room, sensing Duncan’s eyes furtively glued to my shifting ass cheeks.
I sat in the upholstered armchair, positioning myself so that my heels rested on the edge of the cushion, giving Duncan unfettered access. He wasted no time in coming to me. I ordered him to undress.
“Are you sure everything is as it should be in the kitchen?” I asked, scrutinizing him closely. “I don’t want you dashing in here and leaving things undone.”
“Everything is as it should be, Miss Julie, Ma’am.” he insisted breathlessly. There was a light beading of perspiration on his upper lip.
“I have something for you.” I said, reaching into my shoulder bag and withdrawing an object wrapped in tissue paper.
“Kneel.” I ordered, and Duncan fell to his knees before me. I unfolded the tissue paper, revealing a light pink bowtie that I had bought at a costume store. Its most distinguishing feature was that it was covered in hair from my pubic bush. These were the clippings I’d had Duncan collect when he trimmed me. Using a glue stick, I had attached a covering of my pubic hairs to the tie, though the pink still shone pertly behind them. I had Duncan lean forward, and I attached the tie to his neck.
“You are to wear this tie whenever you are in my home. Understood?”
“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Julie.” Duncan replied, clearly delighted at the unique gift.
“You can look.” I said, indicating my pussy.
I scratched a bit in my pubes, running my fingertips through the hair. I held my fingers out to Duncan.
“Smell them.” I said.
Duncan sniffed delicately at my fingertips the way a felon might smell his first rose after a thirty year stretch. I sat back and watched his rapt expression. Duncan, step by step, was getting to know my cunt, and learning its power over him. All part of Female Worship 101. And wasn’t he just a straight “A” student, I mused, watching his gentle and respectful approach to my extended fingers.
Smell, whether it be pussy or ass, are the building blocks to breaking in a slave. So, I was glad to see Duncan falling so readily and deeply under their thrall. You will recall that Duncan had already assumed his servile position (one that he took to with great relish!) to my anus. Now, we moved on.
I stroked Duncan’s face with my hand, and allowed him to kiss the palm. Even so mundane a gesture as this sent a thrill through me as I noted the glow of adoration on my sweet little Duncan’s face.
At my instruction, Duncan sat back on his heels, his eyes downcast. The sniffing session had left him hard as stone, though much more animated! His penis was jerking spasmodically like a conductor leading at an upbeat tempo. I had to laugh as I watched it. Duncan colored deeply, and this just made me laugh all the more!
“Now, Duncan, did you enjoy smelling my fingers?” I asked playfully as I slowly contained my mirth.
“Yes, Ma’am. I did.” he replied, seeming chagrined at my laughter.
“You don’t mind if I laugh at you, do you?” I said, no longer laughing. I wasn’t going to have a mere slaveboy getting into a pet over anything I did!
Duncan, realizing that he was ‘on the carpet’, so to speak, snapped out of his moodiness.
“No! No! I’m sorry, Miss Julie... I... if I gave the wrong impression. I...”
I interrupted his blathering with several hard slaps across his face, first one side, then the other, til he sat there, red-faced for quite a different reason than before. I sat back and watched as he recovered from the blows. His eyes were watering from the impact, and his lips were quivering.
“don’t ever show me such attitude again. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Miss Julie, Ma’am.” he said, not daring to look at me.
“All right then. We’ll get back to your lesson. But you must show, by how well you perform, just how sorry you are for having offended me. Is that understood?”
“Yes, miss Julie.” came his whispered reply.
“Come closer.” I said.
Duncan moved forward on his knees so that he was at the edge of the chair.
