The Shaming of the Shrew - Act 02

It turned out that Conor was going on a golfing holiday in Portugal and he was taking another woman as his partner. I'd seen him with her at the club once. I'd thought she was his niece. Melissa; young, like only 21 or 22, and super-hot.

"Can you take a week off work to babysit the shrew?"

I couldn't take annual leave but ...

"I could work from home?" I suggested.

"That works." He chuckled. "Thanks."

This was to be very different, taking Kat in for a whole week, rather than just her brief visits for purely sexual purposes. So, I was determined to make the most of it. In fact, Conor demanded it.

"You'll be working 16-hour days." I told her.

She was dressed in the housemaid's uniform that I'd specified. "Seven in the morning until eleven at night."

She nodded. "Yes Sir."

My ex got our house when we divorced. So now I live in a modest two-bedroom cottage at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac. And at this stage it was a complete tip. Frankly, I hadn't done more than essential housework for years.

The dust and grime were thick. There were piles of old magazines and papers everywhere. The kitchen was a shambles and the fridge had mould. I won't even try and describe the bathroom. But by the end of the week it was going to look like a show-home.

Conor face-timed me from Portugal once he and Melissa had settled into their room. They were both wearing white robes and had wet hair.

"How's she doing?" he asked.

I turned my phone so they could both see. Kat was on her hands and knees scrubbing my kitchen floor tiles with a toothbrush. Her maid's outfit was one of those cheap, tacky ones women can buy for fancy dress parties; a lowcut top, miniskirt, fishnet stockings and PVC stiletto heels.

Her black skirt was flipped up over the small of her back where I'd left it. Her red buttocks were on show between her suspender belt and stockings.

"Did you need to beat her?"

"Yep. But just 12 strokes. She was working too slow."

Conor laughed. "Let's see her cunt."

I got up and gave them a closeup. "Part your knees."

We all had a good view of her hairless pussy and anal whorl. Her labia were swollen and glistening. She was even hornier than usual.

"Wow!" a female voice exclaimed. "Look at that. Fuck me!"

"Don't worry, darling, I will." Conor replied, laughing.

After we'd ended the call, I summoned Kat to bring me a chilled beer from the fridge. I idly fingered her pouting labia under her short skirt. The scent of her arousal turned me on.

"You like your husband fucking other women, don't you?"

She bit her lower lip. Fuck me, she was pretty. I could still barely believe I was having my wicked way with this gorgeous 35yr old.

"It's hard to ... explain. But kind of. Yes Sir."

I invited her to eat with me. She'd prepared a fish pie while I was busy working. There was enough for two, with peas and broccoli.

"It must hurt though?"

Her smile was part-grimace, part-sigh. She slowly chewed her mouthful and her eyes became moist.

"It hurts a ... lot. But it's a sick, arousing, emotional hurt, if you can understand what I mean. I've been like this for as long as I can remember, since puberty anyway. There's more than one kind of masochism."

I nodded. For the first time I was seeing Kat as a human being and not just a sex toy. Her initial rudeness had just been part of a plan to make me dislike her. And it wasn't her fault that I was older, overweight and losing my hair.

It was a shock to realise that I was starting to like her.

At 11 o'clock, with the downstairs of my house looking spic and span, we went up to bed. I'd been binge-watching a box set while she worked. She hesitated outside the bathroom.

"May I ... sir?"

"Sure."

But I didn't leave the doorway. I'd never seen a woman on the toilet before. My missus used to be very particular about locked doors.

"Pee? Or poop?"

She blushed. "B ... both sir."

I smiled, not budging. Conor had given me carte blanche. I was helping this couple live out their abnormal fetish. So the least I deserved was to tick off my own bucket list.

"Hurry up then."

She spread her knees and squatted low over the bowl. I took my phone out of my pocket and began videoing.

"Raise your skirt."

She used both hands to lift up the hem of her maid's skirt, like she was curtseying, and chewed her lip once again. I already had a title for my little video.

'The shaming of the shrew'

She pissed first. An endless, hissing jet of the water she'd drunk at dinner. But before her stream stopped, I heard her fart. Her cheeks blushed bright crimson.

"Go on then. Be quick."

She'd obviously been holding it all in for a while. There was a secondary explosion and then one, two, three splashes in quick succession. I moved closer and held my phone close, between her splayed thighs. She looked up at me as a single tear bubbled down her cheek.

"Okay?" I checked, pressing pause.

After a moment's hesitation, she nodded. "Yes. It's just he's never done that before. Filmed me like this, I mean."

"He, being ... Master Conor ... your husband."

I found myself using a slightly sarcastic tone when I said the word 'Master'. I'm not that keen on titles myself.

"Yes. I'm just ... no longer used to ... new things."

I held up my phone. "Look, I can delete it. Right now."

She shook her head. Her damp eyes were locked on mine.

"N ... no." she croaked. "I ... like it. I just never thought you'd be much good at all this, you see."

Her comment hurt. I'm not sure why, but it did. I might not be some fit, toned and big-dicked Alpha, but I rather fancied myself as latent Dominant.

I unzipped my fly and eased my cock out while she was still squatting astride the toilet.

"Okay then, slut. So, you're ready to step things up a little, huh?"

Continued in Act Three