This can be read either as Part 3 of the series "The Housepet" or as a standalone story.
If you like slow burn and character development you can go back and read Parts 1 and 2.
Alternatively, if you prefer to dive straight into the action all you really need to know is that Grad Student Zara has agreed to be the freeuse, submissive Housepet of an older man (Jamie) in return for living rent free in his large Victorian Townhouse. Hope you enjoy.
The Housepet: A Day in the Life of a FuckToy
Zara stared at the laptop, blanky. The words had stopped coming. It was almost 4pm, she had been working on this assignment all day and was losing the will to keep going. She was in her final year of an intensive Teacher training Masters with final assessments looming. She felt the pressure building between her shoulder blades. The assignment was not due until Monday but her anxiety and need to impress made it difficult to relax and switch off for the evening.
Her phone buzzed. She saw a series of messages coming in from Jamie, her landlord. Or more accurately, her Master.
Good afternoon Zara. I hope you have had a productive day?
I want to use you tonight. Had a stressful day and need to blow off some steam. Home 6ish. Be ready. You know the drill.
Lingerie only, collar ready. You can choose exactly what set. You know what I like. And just so you know, I plan to be rough with you.
I'll get dinner delivered later. Oh and I have a surprise for you xx
Zara smiled as she read the messages. Between him working late and a night out with his boys; and a night out with her coursemates, she had barely seen Jamie in recent days. And he hadn't used her in four days? Five?
She closed the laptop and told herself she had done enough for one day. Studying was so much easier in the Townhouse compared to before, when she lived with her aunt's family. With none of the chaos of family life around her she had space and peace to work. No nieces and nephews wanting to play when she had to study, no small talk when she needed to think. But it came at a price, and now she had to pay the rent.
Two hours to get ready. Just enough time for her to transform from a stressed out Teaching student in sweats who hadn't washed that day into a darkly glamorous and submissive sex kitten waiting for her Master to use.
She had been surprised how easily and naturally she had adapted to her new life in the Townhouse. She was shocked by how good it felt, how natural, as if this was how she had always wanted to be treated. His generosity disarmed her, with so many gifts of clothes, lingerie and cosmetics she didn't dare ask how much they all cost. But then, Pets don't ask. And she knew he had set something in her free, awoken something deep inside her.
She went upstairs to the bathroom.
Her
bathroom. Jamie used his en-suite, and for the first time in her life she had the indulgence of a bathroom to herself. Her mind wandered, thinking of their relationship, both intimate and distant. They were not a couple. They were not even really friends, even when they were both home they didn't hang out together, far less socialise together.
It felt in many respects like a conventional house-share arrangement. Friendly, but with clear if unwritten boundaries. But it was different from any conventional relationship in one very big respect.
She was his freeuse Toy, his Housepet. Expected to be available for sex at short notice, dressed to his instructions, anytime he wanted, with only a few pragmatic exceptions.
But they fucked like lovers. He kissed well, he made her cum and she loved hearing his groans when she took him in her mouth. There was no clause in their contract that she had to train her throat to take every inch of his cock. But she was trying. And afterwards, when they were both spent, she often fell asleep in his arms.
The sex was good.
No, the sex is fucking fantastic,
she thought.
As she showered her mind drifted, remembering how he had instructed her to make herself cum in front of him when she performed for him the second time they fucked.
Or when he had made her cum with tongue so hard she had to wash the pussy cream from his beard afterward in an intimate shared bath. She smiled at the memory and unhooked the shower head, aiming the powerful jet of water between her legs just long enough to feel enough of a buzz and know she had to stop.
He controlled her orgasms. He expected her to edge at least twice a day, first thing in the morning and last thing at night. There were no restrictions on how often she could play with herself but she could not cum without his permission.
She dried herself with warm, fluffy towels, rubbed rich body lotion all over her body, then applied almond oil, a sensuous indulgence.
What would once have been a treat for a special occasion was now just part of her routine after every shower. He had been explicit in his instructions, she was his Toy and he wanted her body in the best possible condition at all times. Her skin had never been so soft and smooth. And when he asked if she wanted laser sessions rather than waxing she answered
Yes
without thinking.
She applied the oil slowly, working it into her skin with long firm strokes. The twice daily edging sessions and denial had made her body so sensitive. At first her instinctive arousal annoyed her when she rubbed the oil into her breasts, her nipples, her neck, her thighs. Now she embraced the feeling, feeling her body react to her touch. She had almost cum from this alone but had learned how to go at a steady pace that built the glow between her legs without coming too close to cumming.
She started with her feet, worked the oil in between her painted toes, taking longer to massage her calves and work her hands upwards to her thighs with generous amounts of oil. She rubbed around her cunny, taking care not to brush her clit by accident but working the oil into the skin all around.
Then her hands caressed her torso up to her neck but avoiding her breasts. Then the arms, down one arm to the fingertips, then another. She finished with her breasts, and a fresh drizzle of oil. She used both hands and teased her nipples in all the ways she liked. She didn't think she could cum from nipple play alone but to be extra safe she slowed and lightened her touch if she felt the heat building. She didn't pretend any more that this is just a skin care regime. This is self care, self love, a daily routine of pleasuring herself and embracing her sexuality.
This had begun to feel like the threshold moment. Before the oil she was a smart, hard working student; a feminist, respected by her lecturers and peers. She granted the oil transmutative properties, as if the oil was an elixir that helped transform a pretty girl next door into a darkly glamorous siren.
When she was finished Zara admired herself in the full length mirror. Her olive skin shone with the oil, her wet brunette hair fell well past her shoulders. Her nipples were stiff and erect and the outer lips of her pussy had parted with arousal during her self stimulation.
She would never be happy with her body but she had begun to see it through Jamie's eyes. What she had always thought of as an average body he described as a woman's body with hips and curves. She still wished her 34B breasts were larger but he lavished praise and attention on them and loved playing with her large sensitive nipples. He said she was slim enough to throw about, but womanly enough not to worry about breaking her. That sentence had stuck with her. And even before make-up and mascara she knew her big brown eyes and thick lashes were her most captivating features.
