I was pretty careful to arrive at the house late in the morning. Benjamin was off to school and I was surprised not at all when I knocked and Jacob and Marta both greeted me. She looked stunning in a white, flowing pajama set, the top a loose blouse of silk so sheer I could read a newspaper through it, the pants floor length with wide legs brushing the floor, the legs so wide they looked like a long skirt.
Jacob, however, did surprise me. He was dressed in nothing but a wide leather posture collar, the stainless point under his chin forcing him into a chin-up posture or he would be poking himself with the needle sharp point, and a leather jock-strap-looking contraption with the flat leather triangle obviously pressing his cock tight against his body.
I grinned.
"I see my teaching has paid off," I said, "can I assume that you have a similar outfit," I added to Marta.
She giggled and said, "of course."
Jacob reached past me and took the roll-on suitcase I had.
"Follow me," he said.
As he led us down the hall I couldn't help but notice the tic-tac-toe game laid on his back in welts.
I glanced at Marta, my eyebrows raised in question.
She giggled and said, "well, you're the one who taught us that lessons must be learned."
I smiled and offered a high five.
"More things?" he asked.
I tossed him my keys and said, "a trunk full."
Watching him walk away I realized how much he had trimmed down.
"Is that what you want for Benjamin?" I asked and her eyes got big.
"Oh, God no," she said. "I want him to learn how to make his future wife happy. But then, well," and she giggled, "if SHE wants him in a collar, that's up to them."
"Or if she wants to wear the collar?" I asked and she grinned.
"Well, that IS fun too," she said, depending you your mood.
I shook my head, smiling. "Damn," I said, "I AM a good teacher."
Jacob was back then, the first of my suitcases in his hand.
"Good boy," Marta said.
He smiled and went back for more.
The rest of the morning was pretty straightforward. Jacob brought in the rest of my things and Marta and I got my new room organized, clothes hung and put into drawers as appropriate, and my bathroom things laid out.
Jacob, meanwhile, got dressed, kissed Marta and me both goodbye, and went off to work.
As soon as Jacob walked out the door Marta took me into her arms.
"God, I thought he'd NEVER leave," she breathed after a VERY good kiss. I am a good teacher.
I giggled. "Jake not taking care of business?" I asked, my hands playing with the soft skin at her waist.
"We're," she started and paused, getting her thoughts together, "We're working on our relationship," she finally said.
"Annddd," I asked, "does he like having a Woman of the House?"
"He's not sure," she giggled, "hell, I'm not sure myself."
"And what do you want of me?" I asked.
She grinned at that.
"I want you on your knees, using your mouth as you do so well," she said.
So I gave her what she wanted. I eased to my knees, a motion I had practiced diligently, and used my fingers to pull down her long flowing pants.
Her new style hadn't reached the wax stage yet so I buried my face in that thick, curly black bush. She was aroused and I inhaled deeply, drawing in her womanscent. And I realized, at that almost cellular level of understanding you develop when you're a professional fulfiller of fantasies, that she was enjoying being in charge at least as much as she was enjoying what I was doing.
So I played to her fantasy.
I leaned back and bent my neck so that I could look up and meet her eyes. I slowly moved my head, holding her eyes, to brush both cheeks with that thick pubic hair.
"Do I please you, my darling?" I asked, putting on my best simper.
"Oh my yes," she said, stroking my hair, almost petting me like a cat.
I buried my face in her muff again, inhaling and probing with my tongue, tasting the salty, tangy, oiliness of her excitement. My hands cupped her heavy ass, holding her to me, and her fingers slowly entwined in my hair.
I took my time, bringing her along slowly, feeling her building arousal in the tension in her ass under my hands and in the way her fingers dug into my hair. I enjoy oral sex, both giving and receiving, so what I was doing wasn't a chore. I felt her sudden tension and tasted her salty release.
But I didn't stop there. My fingers dug into the tense muscles I had ahold of and pulled her to me when she tried to arch away from the intensity of what I was doing. She groaned when I squeezed harder, and gasped a harsh, "yessssssssssssssssssss" as a second orgasm took her.
I allowed her to relax then, kissing her belly, low, using my tongue to trace that line of coarse hair that ran up to her belly button before I leaned back, smiled up at her, and said, "I told you I could be a good employee."
She giggled at that and helped me stand.
"Go ahead and shower," she said. "I'd join you but you just never know when someone will drop in around here."
So I did. The shower was big, a free-standing unit, with an oversize garden tub on the other side of the bathroom. I noted what appeared to be Jacuzzi jets in the garden tub and made a mental note to check with Marta about that.
Clean and dry I spent just a few minutes with makeup. I didn't want to go full-on, but in my line of work, even my new line of work, I figured it would be a good idea to always look pretty good. Just some base and blush, very light around the eyes, and a pink lipstick that I hated but was less, well, whorish than the scarlet I normally wore.
I had given a lot of thought to clothes, I thought of them as my "domesticated costumes." Jeans, not tight to emphasize my ass, casual loose fitting, over plain granny panties in white cotton. White socks and white tennis shoes, not new but clean. A plain cotton bra, one of my heavy-duty special order HH cups with wide straps and six hooks. A blue chambray man's work shirt, oversized on me, two buttons open at the neck showing just a hint of cleavage. I added my plain Seiko watch and a necklace with "Sammee" spelled out in gold finished my, well, my uniform.
"Oh. my. God," Marta said when I found her in the kitchen, each word a separate sentence as she just stared.
I laughed.
"You look positively domestic," she said, brushing her hand down my arm.
"Hey," I said, doing a quick turn, "the Family Nanny should look the role."
She laughed. "Okay, I know you're a professional in bed, but can you cook?" she asked.
"Honey," I said, "at my size, you can bet I like to cook."
"Okay then," she said, tilting her head a little, "what's for dinner?"
I laughed at that, surprised, really, at how much I was enjoying the thought of my new domestic role.
"Plain home cookin'," I said, "with Americanized Mexican, Italian, or Chinese for variety. If you have something, is the term 'kosher,' in mind, I'll start studying."
She laughed at that. "Oh, honey, in case you hadn't figured it out, we're pretty fucking far from Kosher around here," she said.
"Well, then," I said, "let's see what I have to work with."
The kitchen wasn't quite restaurant-grade, but it was close. It was big with the biggest refrigerator I had ever seen in a house. There was a pantry that looked like it could stock a small convenience store. Racks of pots and pans hung from the ceiling, and the four-burner stove with a griddle in the middle beckoned.
"Plain American tonight," I said, "meatloaf, mashed potatoes, corn, and a salad."
She looked at me, one eyebrow raised. I matched her with my own and waited.
"You're serious?" she asked.
"Marta," I said, "yes. I will do this job, and play this role, to the absolute best of my ability."
We looked at each other for a few seconds.
"Annddd, I
like
to cook," I finished
