Throughout that first week, Carrie and Kate lived in a state of bemused bliss. Every morning, a mug of tea with milk but no sugar was delivered to each bedside table at their prescribed time of seven during the week, and eight at weekends. They rose, washed and dressed with an almost extravagant lack of consideration, leaving their bed unmade, splashing water and other liquids across the bathroom, dropping soiled clothes on the floor, rummaging carelessly through wardrobes and drawers to find the clothes they wanted to wear, and leaving toiletries and makeup scattered across the dressing table.
Breakfast was waiting for them on the kitchen table when they came down, with fresh coffee burbling in the percolator and fresh orange juice in a jug next to sparkling glasses, plates and cutlery. Skivvy was in attendance, eager to anticipate the wishes of both ladies and fetch and carry on demand. While eating, they gave their Skivvy his instructions for the day: what clothing needed to be washed or taken to the dry cleaners, what grocery shopping was required, which additional chore in the house and garden needed to be attended to: window cleaning, lawn mowing, and garage tidying were on the agenda for that first week. They then happily left for work with unwashed breakfast things littering the table.
In the evening, they returned to find the house and garden immaculate, laundry ironed and put away, groceries for the evening meal in the cupboards with all necessary peeling and chopping already done, and slippers for their feet ready by the door. Their Skivvy was always in attendance: ready with a foot rub when required; waiting on them at the kitchen table while they ate; cleaning and washing up after they had finished; kneeling patiently in the living room while they eased away the tensions of the day with a drink or two which he had prepared and served to them; and going to bed with their magazines and newspapers scattered across the floor, the television blaring away in the background, the lights blazing, confident that their Skivvy would put everything right before he himself slunk off to his little cell for the night.
They enjoyed performing their part of the bargain they had struck with him, and every evening, before they went in to eat, they would get him to shut the living room windows and draw the curtains. Kate would unclip the buttons on Skivvy's dungarees and help the garment drop to his ankles. Their Skivvy would then be naked from the bottom of his grey sweatshirt to the socks around his ankles, his bare backside at their mercy.
She would then position Skivvy over a convenient footstool, knees on one side, belly on the stool, elbows and nose on the other. Placing an elegant bare foot on the small of his back to keep him in position, she would go to work. She liked using the martinet but was also happy on occasion to select one of the two canes, or her dressage whip. A dozen hard lashes, with thirty second pauses between strokes, would paint vivid weals on their Skivvy's rump, and leave him snorting, snuffling and squealing. Struggling off the footstool, Skivvy would kneel at his mistress's feet, kissing them in gratitude, before offering himself to Carrie.
Carrie preferred the intimacy of the spanking paddle. Draping Skivvy over her lap while she sat in a straight-backed chair, she would proceed to leather the young man's backside with considerable vigour, giving it a volley of twenty swats or more before pausing, and then continuing with another similar volley. She would keep this up for five minutes or so, before pushing him onto the floor for another bout of foot kissing. He scuttled off to the loo to tidy himself, before presenting himself in the kitchen for his duties for the rest of the evening.
The whole process took barely fifteen minutes of the ladies' time, and left with Skivvy with a rump which was too sore to sit on but a sense of fulfilment which only a fellow masochist would be able to comprehend. At night, before he went to bed, Skivvy would stand in front of the bathroom mirror and crane his neck to examine the state of his backside, and take a strange pride in the damage that he saw there.
On Sunday morning, a week after Carrie and Kate had started to enjoy the services of their live-in Skivvy, the ladies were in bed enjoying some quality time together. Carrie lifted her head to observe Skivvy as he entered the room with a tray bearing two mugs of tea. He moved about the room quietly, placing a mug on each bedside table, and was about to leave when Carrie called out: "Here Skivvy."
He paused and waited for the next command.
"I think we should have a special rule for Sunday, Skivvy, and have you serve us naked all day. So strip naked now."
Kate's head popped up from under the bedclothes, and both ladies watched as their Skivvy peeled off his dungarees and sweatshirt.
"What's that for?" Kate asked Carrie.
"Dunno," shrugged Carrie. "Just thought I would liven things up a bit. I've always liked the thought of being waited on hand and foot by a naked man!"
"You are weird!" Kate laughed. "Still, his dangly bits are covered, so he's not a complete eyesore." She pointed to Skivvy's chastity cage, which was locked in place.
"That's not coming off!" Carrie assured her lover firmly. She looked at Skivvy. "Okay, you can go now."
They eyed the naked male as he turned to leave the room.
"That rump looks awfully sore," Kate remarked.
"Inevitable, I suppose, seeing as how he wants us to whip it every day," responded Carrie callously.
"I know, but it was bleeding when I caned him last night, and if we carry on like this it will get very messy."
"You could try not to hit him so hard," Carrie pointed out.
"Or we could beat him less frequently," Kate said thoughtfully. "And get him to treat his bum betweentimes."
"Weird though it sounds, we'll have to get his agreement if we want to cut down how often we spank him," Carrie giggled. "Though we could tell him that we'd spank him a lot harder when we do spank him, to make up for that."
"What can he use to treat his bottom after we've thrashed him?" Kate wondered.
"Don't know," Carrie replied. "But I know a girl who probably does. I'll give Kim a call after we get up."
# # # # #
Since there was no need to get up in a hurry, the two ladies went back to enjoying each other's company, and as Skivvy worked naked on his chores, he could hear the gasps and squeals coming from his mistresses' bedroom which testified to the pleasure they were getting. It was much later, after the ladies had emerged from their room to have a leisurely breakfast and spend some time on their laptops and iPhones that there as a ring on their doorbell.
"Answer that," Carrie ordered Skivvy, who was tidying up the Sunday newspapers which Kate had strewn around the living room floor.
The naked male obeyed, terrified that he would be exposing himself to someone who would be shocked and embarrassed by his appearance. Kim's tall and sturdy figure loomed above him on the threshold. She brushed past him before he could ask who she was and marched into the living room. Kate and Carrie both gave her welcoming hugs before they seated themselves comfortably.
"Come here," Kim ordered Skivvy. He stood before her with his hands on his head, and she turned him around to examine his buttocks.
"My! You certainly have gone to town on the poor bugger, haven't you?" she said mildly as her finger traced the most prominent bruises. "Did he do something to annoy you?"
"It's his daily wages," Kate explained. "It's what we have to do to him if we want him to work for us."
"He'll be in hospital if you carry on doing this to him for another week," Kim said firmly. She patted Skivvy's sore bottom and addressed him. "Do you really want to be crippled for life?"
"I'm honoured to serve my mistresses in whatever they choose to do," Skivvy replied woodenly.
"Well, you can honour them by asking them to thrash you less often," Kim said firmly. "Just as hard, or even harder, but give your arse time to recover before the next dose. How does that sound?"
"If that is what my mistresses would like..."
"I've come to like tanning your backside Skivvy, but I don't like drawing blood," Carrie said kindly. "How often do you think we can do him?" she asked Kim.
Kim rummaged in the capacious handbag she had brought with her. "I'll treat his bum now and leave these ointments with him. If he uses them morning and night, it should sort him out. Bill swears by them, and he should know!"
