"Honey, you know what would be a great idea? If you wore the lingerie from our wedding night." Mr. Smith said.
With each command came an additional sensation of euphoria as Cheryl carried it out. She understood her role as a trophy wife and the hard work that came with it. By now she had accepted, at least for the day, the loving and cheerful mindset needed to succeed in such a role. It was a thankless job, and her only reward was knowing her husband was satisfied. However, the strange request jarred Cheryl free momentarily. Why was she letting this man boss her around like some slave?
Cheryl's smile disappeared. "I'd rather not."
For a moment the fantasy dropped on both ends. The weight of his feet on her back caught her attention as did the other feelings she hadn't quite noticed just a few minutes earlier. The stickiness and smell of the cum drying on her face. The pains and aches from carrying out housework all day in her unconventional outfit, which she could feel encasing her body like a tightly wrapped cocoon. Mr. Smith tightened up and removed his feet from Cheryl's back. She had been saying yes all along, why was this request any different?
"I want you to put the lingerie on from our wedding night." Mr. Smith said in a hesitant tone. Far softer than the tone he used earlier during dinner.
Cheryl's body relaxed. The good feelings engulfed her again. 'Make the customer's life easier.' How could she deny the man the experience of reliving one of his best nights? Her bright smiled flashed at Mr. Smith.
"Of course, honey." Cheryl said. "I'll be ready for you after the game."
She got up from the ground, kissed Mr. Smith on the cheek and left to prepare for an eventful evening.
Inside Mr. Smith's room were the remnants of a former marriage overpowered by the laziness of a male now living on his own. Clothes were everywhere except one side of the room, which was kept clean and clear. Her former side. Clearly, he was still not over her and Cheryl prancing around wasn't exactly helping, but at least it gave him a positive escape.
The closet was the same story. Half in chaos, half cleared out. The only thing left behind was an old cardboard box sitting on the top shelf. Inside was the gently used red lingerie set complete with garters and stockings. Looking around, amongst the various blue and black clothes, the red heels tucked away with the other shoes stuck out like a sore thumb.
The uniform was all there and in pristine condition. Used once and forever preserved. Cheryl had reservations about going through with it, but the calming feeling she experienced from the other commands guided her through the motions of changing. Each piece gave a boost of positive energy for the next piece until she was fully dressed in her new slutty uniform.
Cheryl caught her reflection in the mirror and blushed at the sexy blonde staring back. The lingerie was a perfect fit. She was almost a carbon copy of Mr. Smith's ex-wife. The only difference was their faces, but even then, it was easy to spot some similarities at certain angles.
After making sure her outfit was in order, Cheryl crawled on the bed and waited on all fours. With a moment of silence to herself, Cheryl's mind raced with other concerns. Kat was off doing a special project for Mr. Wallace and she was stuck doing the grunt work. That was not the best way to run a partnership. She didn't mind taking Kat's clients for a week or two, but the lack of transparency from Kat and Mr. Wallace created a problem. If this arrangement was going to work long-term, all of them had to be on the same page.
The new tasks were also a bit concerning. Instead of just cleaning, they were now offering a wide variety of services including tasks Cheryl would previously have never considered in a million years. Role playing as a wife and giving a blow job to a stranger were crazy to think about. In fact...This whole scenario was crazy. She was dressed in a client's ex wife's lingerie waiting for him to fuck her. Why?
Cheryl got off the bed. Why did she dress in the lingerie? Why was this even an option? It had nothing to do with cleaning or being a maid. She needed to get out of there and have a stern conversation with her business partner. If Kat let Mr. Smith fuck her, that was fine, but that was not how Cheryl conducted her business. She hurried over to the door and opened it. Mr. Smith stared back with an excited grin.
"You look amazing." Mr. Smith said.
He walked forward and slowly forced Cheryl back inside.
"I think I should get going." Cheryl said.
"Get going? But you look so stunning."
Cheryl tried to move, but Mr. Smith blocked her path.
"Please." Cheryl said.
"You know what will put your mind at ease. Masturbating for me."
Anytime Cheryl had anxiety, masturbation was one of the many stress relievers that worked. Maybe it would work in this scenario. It also had the added luxury of making the client happy, something that had slipped Cheryl's mind. This wasn't about her; it was about the client. She didn't like being dressed like his ex, but he did. And that's all that mattered.
Cheryl hopped up on the bed and spread her legs. With one hand holding the thong out of the way, the other fingers teased the opening of her pussy as her seductive gaze drew Mr. Smith in. This is what he wanted. Her fingers dove inside, and a wave of pleasure washed over her. While she reaped the benefits of her one woman show, Mr. Smith quickly discarded his clothes, which disappeared amongst the many piles on the floor.
Mr. Smith was not a patient man, something that likely lead to his separation from his ex-wife. Instead of letting Cheryl finish, he hurried over with his cock out and pushed her onto the bed. There was no foreplay or easing into it. Encouraged by her appearance and clothing, he entered her with reckless abandon. Not wanting to wreck the mood, Cheryl played along as best she could. She made out with him and loosened up as he made love to her. But something wasn't right.
Cheryl had many different experiences with men and their unique idiosyncrasies when it came to sex, but one thing that remained constant was the pleasure of her pussy being filled. Even if the guy ruined the foreplay, the feeling of a cock filling her hole always gave her libido a jumpstart. But with Mr. Smith, Cheryl felt nothing. There was no feeling at all from the constant movement of his body against hers. It was exactly how she always imagined a sex doll would feel.
"You like that." Mr. Smith sputtered between kisses.
"Ya." Cheryl said, doing her best with a sexy voice.
She hated it. He was the first guy that she had ever slept with that couldn't even get her going by doing the one thing that was guaranteed to work. Cheryl tried thinking of other times she had been aroused. Past lovers. Guys with their shirts off. Kat. Cindy fucking Lucas. Nothing triggered any sort of satisfying feeling.
"Come on baby, moan for me." Mr. Smith said as he kissed down her body and then sucked on her nipples.
Cheryl moaned. And then it happened. As soon as he touched her nipples, the feeling of euphoria returned. The world started spinning again. She moaned and screamed and cried at the touch of his tongue assaulting her nipples haphazardly. His concentration clearly reflected in his sporadic thrusts. Despite the inconsistency, the nipples were slathered in saliva and the sensitivity was driving Cheryl closer to orgasm than she realized. As if the unorthodox nature of his thrusts carried over to the rest of sex, he abruptly stopped sucking on her nipples and lifted his body up for better leverage. Cheryl tried to moan to keep in the mood, but Mr. Smith's fingers hooked in her mouth preventing her from doing so.
And like a switch, the good feelings died. Despite being fucked, Cheryl couldn't feel anything. She felt like a sex doll with all the pleasure of the sexual transaction transferred over to Mr. Smith. His grubby fingers in her mouth kept her head steady as he finished his job, using her body to get himself off. Feeling like a human fleshlight, Cheryl kept her mouth shut and didn't complain as he emptied his load inside her. That's what her pussy was there for. To be filled up by customers to make their lives easier.
Mr. Smith's refractory period was evident by the regret, confusion, and satisfaction mixed into one puzzled look. He pulled out and stepped back. Cheryl remained with cum oozing from her pussy onto the bed.
"Ummm...Eat my cum while I go clean up." Mr. Smith said.
