The Pleasure Giver Chronicles

I had just finished taking a shower after my last session and was shaving my underarms and crotch, which I hadn't done earlier, when I heard the door to my room open. In the mirror over the sink, I could see Mrs. King walk in, carrying a full clothes hanger and a bag. She glanced over at my naked body, frozen in the act of shaving. After hanging the clothes up, she emptied the contents of the bag on the desk. She put down a sheet of paper, walked over to the sink area next to where I was shaving and set down a two pack of enemas. Her scent was subtle but intoxicating.

"How are your supplies, Soma? Do you have enough toothpaste and mouthwash?" I guess Mr. King was the only one calling me PG.

"Yes, Mrs. King. I'm doing fine with supplies." Why did she have to be so close to me? My cock was already responding to her pheromones.

But she ignored my tumescence and returned to the desk chair.

"I know you have another client arriving soon, but his flight has been delayed, so we have some time to talk while you're preparing for him. Go ahead and finish shaving, then administer the enemas. I don't know if he'll want to use your ass, but it never hurts to be prepared."

Her nonchalance would have been shocking with anyone else. However, I was learning the Kings were a very special couple, with a very special take on things. Of course she'd carry on a conversation with me while I was naked and shaving. She'll probably keep on talking right through my douching.

Mrs. King herself was striking in a nondescript manner. If that seems oxymoronic, rest assured, it's not. Mr. and Mrs. King confounded preconceptions at every turn, as I am finding out every day of my tenure. She was short, about 5'3" and, I believe, Korean. She must have been in her late 40s or early 50s, but her skin was that of a 20 year old. Her face was virtually wrinkle free and her eyes...her eyes were always alert and reflected her intelligence. Underneath, however, there were hints of something else I couldn't quite make out. She maintained a placid appearance at all times. Either she was supremely calm or she was even better at building walls than I was. Overall, I found her quite attractive and made a point of focusing on my shaving to keep from having an embarrassing and nonprofessional erection.

She wore the standard blazer of the motel chain, along with a skirt that came just above her knees, showing her smooth legs. I wondered if the smoothness extended all the way to her crotch, but those were thoughts I rapidly shunted aside. She was my employer and I had a feeling I would not want to be on her bad side.

She waited until I finished shaving to speak.

"So, how was your first experience on staff? You seemed to be enjoying yourself."

How did she know....oh, yes, the cameras in the rooms. That was how they had entrapped me into becoming one of their unpaid whores. Hmm...where was that negativity coming from?

"Truthfully, it wasn't what I expected. He wasn't mean or nasty: he simply used me and tossed me aside when he was finished. I guess that's what's it's like being a whore."

"You are not a whore, Soma. You are a Pleasure Giver. You may not appreciate the difference now, but you'll come to understand in time. You acquitted yourself well. You followed your client's requests, you gave him the release he desired and you allowed him to think he was in charge."

"But he

was

in charge, Mrs. King."

"No, Soma, you were in charge. You're always in charge with your clients, though they may not know that. You submit to their whims because you wish to do so. Even when you think you don't, when you thing you're being blackmailed into being the motel whore (

Is she a mind reader?

), you know deep down that you're here, not just because you want to, but because you need to. This is who you are.

"If you're ever in real trouble, you know you have the right to stop any scene, any session. We keep an eye on new clients and ones we think may go too far and won't hesitate to intervene if, in our judgement, there's a risk to you of real harm."

"In your judgement, Ma'am? What about my judgement?"

"That day will come, Soma. But right now, let's be honest: you are not in a position to exercise good judgement when it comes to what you need. You still have a tendency to confuse what you think you need with what you really need. Don't interrupt, please. You are here because you need to become the perfect Pleasure Giver. You've already learned that may involve discomfort and pain for you. I have no doubt about your ability to handle physical pain. It's the emotional pain you must learn to endure. You must give up the expectation of pleasure if you ever hope to arrive at true pleasure. You must expect to be used by your clients without any consideration for your well-being. To them, you are, indeed, the house whore. But to us, you are so much more. You are very special to us. Think about this while you're cleaning out your ass."

This was becoming surreal. I was on my side filling my ass with an enema talking philosophy with Mrs. King. And why was my cock starting to swell? I couldn't wait for the bottle to empty so I could turn away from her.

"I see your cock is starting to understand, Soma, even if you are not. Don't turn away from me: I've seen plenty of cocks and I'm not going to jump your bones. You're not my type.

"But you are many people's type, because you make yourself their type. Your eagerness to serve, to put aside your own desires and pleasure, to submit completely to your client's wishes...those are what make you desirable to your clients and valuable to us. This may seem cold comfort to you, but, rest assured: Mr. King and I value you highly. We are looking forward to seeing the Pleasure Giver emerge from the chrysalis of Soma."

"Thank you for the encouraging words, Mrs. King. I don't want to be ungrateful. I know I chose this path for myself and that I'm learning things about myself I never suspected. It's scary, Ma'am."

"I know it is, Soma. Seeing who you really are is, indeed, a scary experience. But it's one you need to achieve your ultimate dream."

"And what is that, Ma'am?"

"I don't know, Soma, but I do know that your current dream is to expel that enema and load up with the next one. When you finish, clean up and follow the instructions on the desk. And don't sit on the bed: it's a mess. I'll send Housekeeping to straighten up when you go to your client. Oh, and since you're walking up two flights of stairs, you can keep your glasses on." And she was out the door, leaving my head buzzing with wild thoughts and my bowels starting to cramp up on me.

Twenty minutes later, I was clean, with fresh, minty breath and ready to step into the breech yet again. I picked up the paper and read it.

"PG, your next client is John Smith (that's what he wants you to call him). He's a regular traveler to the area and stays with us when he's in town. His tastes are simple: he enjoys a bit of pampering, a foot massage with lots of toe sucking and a good blow job to top it off. You'll wear the uniform on the hanger. When he arrives and checks in, I'll ring you. You'll proceed to Room 305 and announce yourself as Room Service. Be your usual charming self and you'll both have a good time."

I looked on the hanger and saw a pair of black slacks and a black button down shirt, with a name tag affixed: Soma Slave - Hospitality. A pair of black shoes and socks completed the look. As I had come to expect, there were no underpants. I sighed and proceeded to put on the clothes, once more noting how well they knew my sizes. Looking in the mirror, I noted with satisfaction that the cut of the clothes made me look tolerable. I sat down to wait for the call, and to reflect on Mrs. King's comments.

I was lost in my thoughts when the room phone rang. I jumped when I heard the ring, then picked it up.

"Mr. Smith has just checked in to Room 305."

"Thank you," I replied to dead air. Making sure my key card was in my pocket, I took a final look in the mirror, then left for Room 305. It was a warm day, so I kept to the shadows of the building to avoid the heat as much as possible. It wasn't a long walk, but I didn't want to start sweating. I took my time climbing the stairs and found Room 305. I knocked on the door and announced myself.

"Room Service."

The door opened and I saw John Smith. He was about my height and appeared to be in his late 50s. He still had all his hair, which was brown with some telltale patches of grey. He hadn't been to the gym in a while, as his paunch showed. It wasn't a beer belly, but the result of years of sedentary work and long hours. He was wearing the remains of a business suit; the jacket was hanging up and he was in his socks. I could see the dark marks on the underarms of his shirt that told of a long flight in a warm plane.

"Hello, Sir, I'm Soma. Mr. King me to attend to your needs. How may I be of service?"

"Come in out of the heat and let me close that door. It's miserably hot out there."

It was warm, but not overly so for this time of year. By the blare of the air conditioner, I guessed he was from a cool weather state. He closed the door and collapsed onto the love seat. He didn't invite me to join him, so I stood in front of him.

"It appears you've had a tiring trip, Sir."

"Tiring? It was the flight from Hell. Delayed, then three gate changes and finally herded into a full plane with no air conditioning. There was a screaming brat behind me. Ask me how I slept."

"I'm sorry you had a rough trip, Sir. What can I do to relax you?"

"Thanks, anyway, but I've got a meeting this evening. All I want right now is a nap." He stretched his legs out and wriggled his toes. "And, perhaps, a foot rub."

I dropped to my knees and took his foot in my hand. I peeled the sock down and removed it from his foot. I applied my thumbs to the pad of his sole and raised it to my face. While rubbing with my thumbs, I inhaled the scent. It was pungent, but not overpowering. The sole was hard, but not calloused. He sighed as I applied more pressure. After a few minutes of working on his sole, I gave his other foot the same treatment. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Mr. Smith, may I suggest a nice, hot shower to rinse away the stress and sweat of the journey? If I may be so bold, you look like you need some TLC. I would be pleased to give you the pampering you deserve before your meeting."

"Thank you, Soma. I think I'll take you up on that. Please run a shower, not too hot, while I get undressed."

"It will be my pleasure, Sir."

I went into the bathroom and laid the bath mat outside the tub. I unwrapped a bar of soap and put it in the tray. Now to find a washcloth. Hmmm...there's the stack of towels, hand towels...where is the washcloth? How could Housekeeping be so neglectful? That's not at all like them...

...No, it's not like them at all. I couldn't imagine Mrs. King's staff being that careless. It must have been intentional. But, then, how was Mr. Smith supposed to wash himself? And the answer hit me.

I smiled and returned to the main room, where he was hanging up his pants, leaving him clad only in his briefs. His torso and legs were covered with light brown hair. His nipples were small, almost hidden in his chest hair. His navel (an innie) highlighted the roundness of his belly, which was large, but not jiggly. It didn't hang over his underpants. A thoroughly ordinary man, but not at all unattractive.

"Sir, I'm afraid Housekeeping has been remiss in not providing a washcloth."

He sighed deeply. "Great; just what I need: another goof up. Call Housekeeping and get one sent up right away."

"If I may suggest, Sir, instead of waiting for a rough cloth on your skin, I would be happy to clean you personally."

"Do you think you can fit in the shower with me?"

I had been planning on washing him from outside the tub, but I liked where he was going. In fact, I was certain that was why Housekeeping had been so careless. This was probably part of his game. If it was, I was more than happy to go along.

"The tub has plenty of room for two men, Sir. It would be my pleasure to join you and take care of you in every way."

"Very well. Get your clothes off and join me in the shower. I'll get it started." He pulled down his briefs and I got to see his crotch. His cock was hanging out of a mass of hair. It was still limp and seemed to be about three inches long. I wondered how much of a grower he would be. He walked past me to the bathroom, giving me a pat on the tush as he walked by.

I heard the water start running and took off my clothes, methodically but quickly, hanging them over the desk chair. I was already half erect in anticipation of exploring that compact body quite thoroughly with my hands. I licked a drop of precum from my cock, anticipating more to come from Mr. Smith, walked into the bathroom and opened the shower curtain.

He was standing under the spray, clearly enjoying the wet heat. His back was to me, which was perfect. I stepped into the shower behind him and pulled the curtain closed. I picked up the bar of soap, lathered up my hands and started rubbing the bar over his body, from neck to waist, to start cleaning him. He gave a hum of satisfaction and I put down the soap and started working on his body in earnest.

I started with his neck and shoulders, rubbing them firmly to get the tension out. I could feel the tightness in his neck and worked it. He sighed and leaned his hands against the wall with his head bent down. The shower spray was now hitting me in the chest, but didn't keep me from continuing his neck and shoulder massage. Under the matted hair, his skin was soft and pliant under my hands. I lightened my touch and ran my fingers up and down the side of his neck. I leaned over and blew softly over his neck, feeling him tense in reply. My lips hovered there for a moment, wanting to do more, but not daring.

I moved down his back, running my hands in broad strokes, taking in the textures of his skin, from the light feel of his hair, to the minor blemishes that provided a contrast to his overall smoothness (I hadn't realized a hairy body could feel so smooth). My hands went to either side of his chest, rubbing up and down with a greater sense of urgency. My cock was fully erect and starting to touch his back every now and then. I wanted to slide my hands around his belly and pull him tight to me.

What's going on? You're here to pleasure him, not seduce him. Get a grip, Soma.

I pulled my hands away to soap them up again, then knelt in the tub. I ran the soap over his buttocks, admiring their heft and the relative lack of sag. They weren't tight, but they looked tasty to me. I soaped my hands some more and slid them into his ass crack, wiping gently, then parting his buttocks to run my fingers over his anus. He gasped and cried out, "Oh God, yes!" as I slowly inserted one soapy finger in his hole to make sure he was clean for at least the depth I could reach with my tongue. Wait until he was out of the shower...

"I'm glad you like that, Sir. I'll definitely keep it mind."

"Damn, Soma, you're making me feel so good."

"That's what I'm here for, Sir."

My hands slid down his legs, soaping them up and admiring the muscular feel. Like many men his age, his legs were in much better shape than his belly. I had no qualms about running my soapy hands around his legs as I worked my way down. He was moaning now; I hoped his moans drowned out my own soft murmurs of delight. I started to work on his feet, but wanted to see them in person.

"Sir, I need to get in front of you so I can finish cleaning you." His silence gave consent.

I stepped out of the tub so I could move in front of him and let him continue to hold on to the wall for balance. I bent over and slipped in as best I could. He slid his feet back a bit to allow me more room, but the faucet still dug into my back. This was going to be the best I could do for now; a little discomfort wasn't going to hurt me...much. But what was going to hurt was the sight in front of me: his fully erect cock, about six inches long and narrow, pointing upward and slapping against my forehead. I wanted so much to take it into my mouth right then and there, but I forced my head down. First the cleaning, then the pleasure.

I ran the soap over the tops of his feet, then, carefully took one foot and placed it on my knee. He wobbled briefly, but adjusted. I could feel the shower spray falling on my head and knew my hair was going to be soaked. I leaned over more to keep the water from washing all the soap from his foot before I was finished. I pulled the front of his foot up slightly and slid my soapy hands under it, admiring the trimmed and clean toenails. I cleaned the sole, then slipped my fingers between his toes. My cock longed for them to wiggle over it, but that could have caused a balance problem, so I reluctantly lowered his foot and lavished the same care on his other foot.

I reapplied the soap to my hands and spiraled them up his legs toward the treasure trove I sought. I looked up and was mesmerized by the underside of his crotch. His scrotum hung low with balls that were dangling with every twitch of his cock. The cock was pointing at a 45 degree angle and showed a single throbbing vein up the middle. The head was a classic mushroom shape (my favorite). It was dripping, but whether water or precum, I couldn't tell yet.

I ran my hands gently over his scrotum, rubbing each ball carefully and running soapy fingers over his perineum and back toward his ass. I ran my hand around his shaft and squeezed up the vein toward his head, when he stiffened and I saw his cock erupt.

The first spurt landed on the wall. I lifted my head and sucked his cock in my mouth just as the second spurt came out. I was able to capture it in my mouth and savor the slightly bitter thin liquid. I ignored the water on my face as he continued pumping into me and pushing down my throat. Fortunately, his cock was thin and I was able to take it without much gagging. I held my place, suckling the shaft and head and milking it dry. I closed my eyes and hummed happily: I had made my man come.

My man?

"I'm sorry, Soma. I hope I didn't choke you."

"Not at all, Sir. It was delightful. I hope it made you feel more relaxed."

"I'm feeling great now. Thank you."

"Let me finish cleaning you up, Sir, and we'll see about relaxing you some more."

Mr. Smith stood up so I could attend to his chest. We were now face to face, my erect cock touching his deflating one, while I focused on soaping his chest and nipples. I didn't dare look at his face, for fear of doing something really stupid. Snap out of it, Soma, you have a job to do: finish it. Our bellies were touching and I dared to grind them together slightly while I squeezed his nipples softly.

I had left his arms for last. Starting at his shoulder, I took one arm in both hands and slid them up and down, paying special attention to his armpit. I ended my cleaning trip at his hand, rubbing it in both mine and running my fingers through his to get them fully clean. As I finished up, his hand closed around mine, fingers interlaced. He took my other hand in the same manner and squeezed.

He pulled me to him tightly, wrapping my arms around his waist, his cock starting to rise again as it mashed up with mine. I pulled him close, wondering where this was going to go. His head was leaning on my shoulder as I rubbed his back with my hands. Had he looked in my eyes at that moment, I had no doubt our lips would have met. The thought terrified me, mostly because I wanted it to happen.

Where are these urges coming from?

Fortunately, he lowered his arms and stepped away. The moment was gone. But one last temptation remained.