I was home, alone. Enjoying the solitude of a rainy day, the comfort of my own surroundings, and the secret thrill of wearing a sweater, frilly pink boy short underwear, and thigh high stockings, and nothing else. My hair was messy, my two braids still in place but with many flyaway tendrils.
I moved about my housefrau duties; washing dishes, loading them in the dishwasher, attending to various pet needs, and changing out laundry. The whole time, I was aware of the brisk cold air against my naked skin. I could feel my breasts swaying beneath my sweater, sometimes becoming exposed as I turned, or lifted my arm.
As I was carrying my laundry basket, my messy braid swung over my shoulder and came to rest between my breasts. I sighed, and went to place the basket on the footstool, and began my menial task of folding laundry. My braids swaying each time I leaned over to pluck a garment from the basket.
My mind wandered back to the night before. I had plaited my hair so that my Master, my daddy, could better guide me onto his cock. As I paused, deep in thought, one breast exposed, ass accentuated by my skimpy panties, my pussy got wet as I remembered. Absentmindedly I ran one hand across the skin of my breast.
I recalled kneeling in front of him. Feeling how his fingers had thrust through my hair, how he had yanked my head up, so that I was forced to look at him. He had traced my lips with his other hand, then roughly shoved a finger deep into my mouth; deeper than he knew I could take. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I could feel the gorge rising in my throat. I swallowed, forcing myself to breathe through my nose as he fingered my throat, his other hand still rough in my hair.
As he withdrew his finger, and I gasped for air and shuddered, he had leaned forward to say in my ear, "This mouth is my hole, isn't it? Mine to use whenever I want, however I want."
I had cried out, looking up at him as snot and tears ran down my face, "Yes, daddy, please."
"Good girl." He had said, using that special tone that made my cunt squeeze around nothing. He relaxed the hand fisted in my braid, and brought his other hand to grip my hair, then guided me towards his dick.
I shook my head, clearing the haze of the memory from my mind. 'It's bad enough,' I thought to myself, returning to the task at hand, 'that every time I look in the mirror, I remember how it felt to have him choke me on his cock.'
Folding laundry is just about as tedious as a chore can get... but something about being wet, half naked, and in front of large windows while you remember how you cried, how your mascara was smeared half down your cheek, how you almost threw up, but forced it back, how he looked down at you, smiling, telling you how good you looked on his cock... Well... that made laundry almost fun.
I smirked to myself, wanting so badly to feel his eyes on me again. I loved the way his eyes made me feel, like he was going to attack me. I shivered as I finished with my task, putting the clothes in their rightful places.
All the while, I was aware of the air against me, a cool breeze causing one nipple to come to a point. The way the lace trim of my stockings rubbed together. The way the panties rode up my ass, and the growing dampness in my pussy. I finished the task, and took a moment to study my clean bedroom. I knew that my Master would be pleased that I had done my chores like a good slut.
I smiled, running my hands over my naked skin, closing my eyes and thinking about how he would be especially pleased that I had been thinking about him, and that my pussy was already wet, had been wet, the whole time. I cupped each breast, feeling the weight, the warmth, and the softness of the skin.
With a groan, I opened my eyes, and turned towards the closet, 'I have to go to the store... he told me to, and I need to.' I pulled out a flowy, comfortable dress in bright colors.
I shut the closet, shrug out of my sweater, and pull the dress over my head. I love the way the cloth feels against my naked skin. I smooth the skirt over my thighs, feeling the lace beneath the fabric of the dress, the hint of ruffle, and the cool air against my ass. With a wicked grin, I pranced into the bathroom to look in the mirror.