Jessica

Chapter 6

Things returned to "normal" around the office for the next two months after the trip. Both Jessica and Ms. Gruer perfected thier masturbation techniques with a rubber ball, and kept me pumping my stuff on their sneakers on a regular basis. Both women enjoyed the feel of my tongue on their clitoris or feet and each shared in my disciplinary spankings.

Then suddenly, during one Tuesday session, Jessica announced, "Tell your wife you have a business trip this weekend." She filled me in with a complete false itinerary and even arranged a cover story.

The business I had came on Friday afternoon when I wound up going to Jessica's apartment with her and Ms. Gruer. The women wasted no time marching me to the bathroom and ordering me to strip naked. Jessica handed me a lady's razor and pointed to the shower. "Make sure you get every hair off your body. It won't do to have a 5 o'clock shadow when you put on your makeup. I don't believe in the Euopean fashion for furry legs and armpits either. Do I make myself clear?" She did. I knew that even my pubic hair was to go.

When I got out, they sat me down in front of the vanity and commenced my makeover. At first, they showed me how to apply the makeup, then they made me wash my face and do it again myself. I had no trouble with the lipstick, and a little difficulty with the rouge, but putting on eyeshadow and mascara was an impossiblity. I can't see how you can be poking at your eye with something while at the same time trying to keep it open.

The results were less than spectacular. Ms. Gruer and Jessica laughed. "Look at him. He looks like a slutty clown." the bitch commented.

Jessica said, "Makeup is expensive. I don't want you wasting mine. >From now on, you will get your own. I'll tell you what to buy. I can't trust you to make your own decisions on this. You don't even know what your colors are."

Ms. Gruer added, "Ya, and we have no time to waste. Most girls learn how to make themselves up by the time they are twelve. You have a lot of catching up to do."

Nail care came next. Doing the left hand was no trouble at all. Painting my right hand took a skill I didn't possess. I never realized that women had to be ambidexterous. I was beginning to appreciate how much trouble they have just getting out the door in the morning.

"Toes too!" Jessica announced. I had to bend over to paint my toenails. As I was doing this, Jessica remarked. "You know, that looks pretty on you. How about we have you do it every day. Make sure your toenails are perfect with no chips or anything. Agnes or I will inspect your work every day."

We all waited patiently for the polish to dry and continued dressing me in my maid's outfit. The last thing they did was put a wig on me. "That looks nice on you." Jessica commented. "Too bad you're suffering from a little male pattern baldness. We'd like you to grow your own hair if you could."

Except for an occassional Saturday session, I didn't get to get dressed up that often. There simply wasn't time to do it properly. The women had me stand inspection this time and were quite critical about how I was wearing my outfit.

They had me get in and out of it several times before they were satisfied I got things right. They checked everything from the way the cap fit on my head to the way the seams in my stockings aligned with the back of my legs.

At one point in my many dressings and undressings, Jessica remarked, "I think we'll add another item to our daily inspection of you -- panties. You look very cute in them. I'll tell you where to go and what to buy. You'll have a different color panty for each day. You'll have to buy and wash them yourself."

"B-but my wife ..." I objected.

"You can wear hers if you want," Jessica laughed, deliberately not getting my point. "Look, I don't care how you do it. Just do it. Your problem is how you can serve and please Agnes and I. Do it or we will tell your wife and pull the plug on this whole arrangement." I accepted my correction meekly with a simple, "Yes, Mistress Van Belle."

This was also the first time I had spent any significant amount of time actually walking in my heels. I felt like an infant learning how to walk all over again. The women giggled every time I tottered around.

I never realized what torture high heels could be. My calf muscles were permanently knotted. They hurt for days later. My arches hurt. My instep felt like it was being bowed out of position. I thought of the medieval torture of foot binding that Chinese men put their women through. My toes were cramped. My back even hurt.

Every step was agony. In addition to pinching and jaming my foot bones into unnatural positions, the shock of walking was unbearable. In normal shoes, the heel of the foot hits the floor, and the walker rocks forward, distributing the load along the arch and into the toes.

Designers of atheletic footware are very aware of how a foot works. Did you ever see a sneaker with any heel at all? In normal shoes, the foot is allowed to act like a natural shock absorber.

High heels deny that. There are two points of contact: toes and heels -- simultaneously. It's an unnatural way of walking. The shock of the heel hitting the floor was transmitted up the heel of the shoe, though the heel in my foot, up my leg and jarred my lower back.

Obviously, the inventor of high heels never wore them. If the inventor were a man then making me wear them was justafyable payback -- one sex to the other. No woman should have to undergo this routinely. No wonder they can tolerate childbirth!

When they were satisfied with my appearance, they were ready to put me to work.

"I have a list of things for you to do," Jessica informed me, "You can start by cleaning the bathroom." Jessica led me to her kitchen and showed me where all the cleaning supplies were.

I've always taken clean bathrooms for granted. Bathroom cleaning has always been a responsibility of the women in my life. I never realized how many nooks and crannies there were in a bathroom. Jessica had a wonderfully decorated Victorian style bathroom complete with a claw-foot tub and tiled walls and floors.

This meant not only cleaning the tub, but getting down on my knees to clean behind and under the tub. It meant getting on my hands and knees to scrub the floor with an old-fashioned brush. I learned how to fold a towel under my knees so as not to ruin my stockings. Jessica and Ms. Gruer let me work like this for about an hour and then relented.

"OK," Jessica said, "I don't want you to ruin your uniform. You will need it later, and we don't have time to clean it. You may work in only your cap and panties."

It took me several hours just to clean the bathroom, scrubbing the tiles, polishing the brass fixtures, and cleaning the bowl.

My next task was laundry. Jessica taught me how to separate the various clothes by how they were to be washed. Some went to the dry cleaners, some went though the heavy duty cycle, some on permanaent press or delicate, and some were hand-washed. The latter category, included most of Jessica's lengire.

Both women laughed as they watched my penis spring to attention while washing Jessica's panties. Ms. Gruer suggested, "Why don't you smell each one of them first, front and back to see how much you need to clean them?"

I was allowed to vacuum while the clothes were drying and then dusted. By the time I finished this chore, it was time for bed. the women had me give them a quick massage and led me to Jessica's bedroom. I was ordered to strip naked. Jessica put her bathing cap around my cock before Ms. Gruer tied me up. I was put at the foot of Jessica's bed, and that is where I spent the night.

-=o=-

I awoke with a firm hard-on, and the sting of Ms. Gruer's hand on my ass. I was untied, and ushered off to the kitchen where I made breakfast for the three of us.

After breakfast, and my subsequent cleaning up thereafter, I completed my chores. I set up the ironing board in the living room where Jessica and Ms. Gruer were reading magazines. I could see from the covers that they were my favorite type of magazine, featuring femme domme topics.

Once I finished ironing, folding the clothes, and putting them away, I was ordered to use my now well educated tongue to play with their feet, and cunts for the rest of the morning as they traded magazines and discussed what to do with me for the rest of the day. One thing was for sure. There was a lot of housework in my future.

It wasn't until I started to prepare dinner that I realized that they were expecting company. I had dinner ready to heat and serve by 4:30. The women gave be a break at 5:00 and suggested I use the time to "freshen up" and get into my uniform.

The first guest arrived at 6 PM sharp. She smiled devilishly at me as I answered the door, and looked instinctively down at my erected cock sticking out from my short skirt. "Why, Agnes," she exclaimed, "He's absolutely cute! Have you housebroken him yet?"

"We're getting there, Janet," replied mistress Gruer, "He still has a few things to learn, but he's very obedient."

In addition to mistress Janet, three other women arrived in short order: Linda, Charlotte, and Candice. I didn't know Linda and Charlotte who appeared to be friends of Ms. Gruer, but Candice was a summer intern accountant in our finance department. She was much younger than the other women. I later found out she was only 20 and going into her junior year in college. She wasn't much older than my daughter, and I knew that I could never look her in the eye again when we met in the hall at work. I would always be humbled in her presence.

Agnes had arranged the evening's activities. At first, it was a mere social hour with the women lounging in the living room as I fetched their drinks and served hors d'erves. It pained me to see the mess they were making in "my" living room, the one I so painstakingly cleaned over the last two days. No doubt I would be required to clean it again the following day.

After the social hour and many trips for me between the kitchen and living room, dinner was served. I had set the table, served the dinner and waited on my guests' every need during the meal. After dinner, I served coffee and dessert back out in the living room and rapidly cleared the table.

"Come out here, sissy maid!", Jessica called. "You can do the dishes later. Right now, our guests need some after dinner entertainment. Put in that tape we've been working on for the last several months."

Indeed, the tape was nearly full. Ms. Gruer and istress VanBell had caught virtually every moment of their domination of me on tape, and even in its edited version it took over an hour and a half to run.

Charlotte came back from the storage room carrying a chair. I could guess its function the moment I looked at it. It looked exactly like a normal straight back chair except that the seat was replaced with a toilet seat. The seat was like the ones I last saw decades ago in basic training (come to think of it, that was the last time I cleaned toilets too!). It was shaped like a horse shoe. That is, it had an opening in the front.

While the tape was running, the women played "musical chairs" with me. The chair was placed in the center of the room facing the TV. My job was to kneel in front of it, put my face in the slot, and perform cunnilingus on the occupant. The women kept rotating through the seat throughout the entire movie.

"Let's have some live entertainment," shouted Linda. I was placed kneeling on the coffee table facing the seated assembly of frenzied females. They must have all been drunk on wine by this time, since they didn't seem to have much interest in tormenting me. "Get it off, boy. Let's see you come."

"Another grab the pole and pull the foreskin show," I thought. Again I thought wrong. "Here, fuck these for us," said Charlotte, slipping off and holding out her sneakers. I figured she wanted me to stick my cock inside and hump away, so I made a grab for the sneakers. She slapped my hands away. "No shithead," she said, "I'll do that, you just supply the cock."

She held her sneakers together sole to sole and placed the heels under the head of my organ. Slowly she pulled the sneakers towards herself allowing my penis to bump and rub its way along the fluted edges of the outsole. A few strokes like this is all it took to get me fully erected. "Atta girl, Charlotte, tickle him up good," encouraged Ms. Gruer.

Charlotte opened up the top of her "sneaker book" and let my penis drop into the channel. Instinctively, I started humping. She played the opening and closing of the gap as well as the angle at which she tilted the sneakers into my body so as to grab my cock on the backstroke, and push at it during my forward thrusts.

Several minutes later, I erupted in splash of steaming semen to the "ahas" and other delights of my female audience. As usual with rubber masturbation, I came vigorously. I shot my semen all the way to the heels, and had so much come on the soles that it was in danger of dripping over the sides.

"Tilt your head back," ordered Charlotte. One of the women grabbed my hair and pulled it back. Charlotte placed the toe of one of her sneakers to my lips, and slowly tilted the heel up so he ejaculate could slide down into my waiting mouth. She did the same with her other sneaker, and made me lick both of them clean.

The women were pleased with my performance and complimented me as they left. Charlotte mentioned to Ms. Gruer, "Nice workout. Next time, my place. The coven has got to see this."